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obae-me · 5 years ago

Note

Hi again! If it's not too much trouble, can I request the brothers reacting to an MC who usually bottles up their anger (they have a LOT of patience) until one day they just explode? You are an amazing person, and thank you for everything! I hope you aren't pushing yourself too hard!!

Hi, welcome everyone to another episode of Mara Doesn’t Know When To Stop, this time featuring this lovely request! I had a small idea, which then turned into five whole pages for Lucifer alone, so, I will also be doing this request into parts, I really hope you don’t mind! I get a bit carried away sometimes...I admit it... Anyway, Lucifer’s part is first! I hope you like it! 💜

Warning: Angst, arguing, cussing, It does lead to a happy end though, it’s a bit cheesy but sometimes we love it

We All Get Angry Sometimes

Word Count: 2707

He was fully aware of MC bottling up their true emotions. Being well acquainted with angels, he knew, despite all their holy patience, that even they had their limits. He will admit, he was impressed and proud with how far they had taken it, being human after all. Their control was practically as good as his own. No matter what his brothers did, what they said, how much they pushed them, for weeks MC just smiled and swallowed it. He was pleased. Until they could no longer retain their anger, and turned it all on him.

It had been at dinner, nothing unlike their meals every day, except recently Lucifer’s nerves had been on edge. It had been a few days since he had been blessed with adequate sleep, and his brothers were more bothersome than usual. Little did he know, MC’s mental state was about the same, close to the breaking point. An unhappy MC meant unhappy brothers, which meant it would all lead back up the ladder to Lucifer. There was only so far MC could be shoved around, only so long they could stay calm, and Lucifer had been the last straw. No one can really remember how it started, it hadn’t been important, simply some passing comment from one of the brothers discussing recent school projects. MC had scoffed, explaining their thoughts on how ridiculous the rules of said assignments were. Then it all went downhill from there.

“I’m not sure it’s your place to be making claims like that based on what your grades have been looking like recently,” Lucifer quipped. The rest of the siblings prepared to stand up for the human, knowing that MC was typically passive in nature.

Only, that same human beat them to the punch. “So, you’re saying that because I don’t meet your lofty standards, I’m not entitled to my opinions?” MC set down their fork, sending chills down the other demon’s spines as the room went silent.

Lucifer narrowed his gaze, already annoyed with their tone. “I’m merely explaining that maybe your statement would have more merit if you worked a little more at your studies instead of slacking off. And for the record, no, you haven’t been reaching my standards. I honestly expected more from you.” Every member of the household felt that line deep in their bones.

MC’s jaw clenched, the fire building up in their chest overwhelmed them to the point where if they shoved it down any longer, they felt like they would explode under the pressure. “You expected more from me? What more could you possibly want?! You’ve taken my home, my family, my friends, my culture, my time! You’ve constantly belittled me, ordered me around, expected nothing but perfection from me, and you still want more?! What have you possibly done to deserve more of me?!”

He was stunned at first, yes, but it didn’t last long. The shock factor was quickly replaced with a wave of fervent irritation. There’s no surprise he was already in demon form, doing his best to intimidate MC into submission. His eyes were glowing that deep red of his, looking down at the human as he got to his feet. His siblings slowly raised up from their seats as well, at the ready to intervene at any second. This whole event had them astonished to their core. Mammon and Levi had their jaws open. Asmo had his hand covering his mouth. Satan would have appeared proud of MC if not for the wary frown. Beel was instantly engaged in protection mode, already in a stance to grab onto Lucifer if he needed to. The eldest was barely able to control himself. Somehow MC had gotten deep under his skin, his body prickling with anger. “What have I--I’ve brought you into my home, ensured your protection, done nothing but make sure your experience down here is sufficient for your fragile little life! Do Not speak to me that way. Know your place.”

MC was physically vibrating from rage and frustration, their mind clouded with fury. Logic was far out the window now, they simply were saying whatever came to mind. Profanities were no longer held back. “I’m sick of your pompous holier-than-thou shit! I’m sick of working my ass off for you and not being good enough! You have a serious fucking lack of respect for everyone around you!”

The air was thick with his aura, his wings fully extended from his body. “Not another wor-”

“Fuck you!”

In a quick blur of motion, everyone worked together in tandem. As Lucifer lunged forward, his brothers held him back. Mammon scooped MC up in his arms and raced to the safety of their room before MC could get hurt, although deep in his heart he hoped Lucifer wouldn’t resort to violence. Lucifer growled inhumanly, flinging his brothers off of him in a single swift movement, ready to pursue the person that dared attempt to say such things to his face.

“How pathetic for you to have gotten so riled up over a few words from a human,” Satan shouted at him as he got up from his spot on the floor. Swallowing the small lump in his throat, he hoped this would prove a decent distraction as well as a way to snap his brother back under control.

Lucifer loomed over him. Satan seemed hardly disturbed. “Watch yourself.” But Satan’s words proved efficient, Lucifer’s Pride wounded as he realized how quickly he allowed MC’s words to get to him, how quickly he had lost control. All of his sibling’s eyes were on him, observing how he was acting. His head was pounding, but instead of heading up to MC’s room, he swiftly retired to his private study where he locked the entrance behind him. He paced around the area for a while, magically turning on some soothing music as his wings twitched in vexation.

He had been completely unprepared for MC’s retaliation, for their venom towards him, but perhaps he knew there was only so much a living being could take before they snapped. Had he been pushing them too hard? Expecting too much of them? Mistreating them? Had he gone too far? What if this spat ended up becoming a problem for the program? What if MC relayed this to Diavolo? His image, his reputation, they would be tarnished. Did MC think less of him now? Did he really care what they thought of him? He was better than this. He expected more from himself. He lowered his head as he sat heavily down into the chair behind his desk. He sunk down low, proper posture be damned. As he took a deep breath in, he realized he hadn’t been breathing for a while, lungs aching. He hadn’t meant to rub MC the wrong way. He simply strived to lead them towards the potential he knew they had. All he wanted was for them to feel proud of their accomplishments, to show the world what he knew they were capable of. But perhaps, it was unfair for the same standards he kept for himself to apply to MC as well. He pinched the bridge of his nose as that deep breath turned into a heavy sigh. He had failed in nurturing the success they’d already accomplished. He’d made them feel like they weren’t good enough, and now look at what he had done, in front of his family no less. Humiliating.

Meanwhile, Mammon was in the process of rubbing MC’s back as they lay on their bed, screaming into their pillow as angry tears fell from their eyes. They hadn’t meant to snap at Lucifer, it all...was just so much. They finally had cracked from the pressure. Everyone’s expectations had gotten the best of them. Be a human representative. Don’t let anyone down. Don’t show weakness. They weren’t purposefully slacking off from their studies, they just were burnt out, almost completely. Lucifer demanding even more from them...was the last thing they needed to hear today. Their own words made them feel sick to their stomach. Being angry wasn’t like them, it never sat well, which is why they always attempted to bury it in the first place. Mammon continued to tell them to breathe and calm down, doing his best not to freak out himself. He’d never seen his human act like this before. After some time, they both heard a polite knock on the door. As MC tensed, Mammon got up to answer it on their behalf. Lucifer was waiting, back in his casual clothes as his arms were settled folded across his chest, foot tapping impatiently against the floor.

“You’ve got a lotta nerve coming back here so soon,” Mammon scowled. “I won’t let anything happen to them, ya hear?”

“Nonsense, Mammon, I have no intention of harming them, I just want to talk. Calmly.”

“Yeah? Well I don’t think they’re in the mood for talkin’.” Mammon did his best to let his body block the entrance to the room, his shoulders nearly touching both sides of the door frame as he made his stature appear bigger. Lucifer peered over his younger brother’s figure, spotting MC sitting with their legs crossed on top of the bed, mostly calmed down as well, refusing to look at him. He noted the tear stains on their cheeks, and he resorted to having to clench his own teeth to stop the bubbling guilt rising up in his chest. He would make this right, if he couldn’t do this, how could he possibly call himself the wise and mature older brother?

“It��s...okay, Mammon,” MC assured him. The demon of greed scoffed, stating much too loudly that he would be right outside the door. He threatened his older brother not to even think about laying a single finger on them, unafraid of any punishment when it came to protecting MC. Lucifer waved him away with a single hand, too exhausted to deal with him further. As the door shut, he strode over to MC’s bed, chin high but spirits low. He had no intention of apologizing first, but if he could just persuade MC to start, he might be able to swallow enough pride to follow.

“Have we calmed down now?” He asked, MC simply nodding in response. “Very well.” He paused for a moment, letting an uncomfortable silence settle over the room. He did have many things he wanted to say, things he wanted to rectify, but for the life of him, he couldn’t bring himself to say them. Not yet. “Did you have anything you wanted to say to me?”

He observed them fight back their irritation before slumping their shoulders as they gave in. “I’m sorry, Lucifer.”

“And?” His voice sounded like a parent scolding a child, causing MC to nearly flinch in humiliation.

They bit their lip. “And the things I said to you were uncalled for. I know how much you do for all of us...for me.” They sat up a bit straighter as they stammered over the thoughts they wanted to say, to explain their feelings. They were afraid to be honest and vulnerable, much like he was, but they had the courage and humility to be open. It was a trait he secretly admired. “I just...I’m finding it difficult to--to find the--the energy and motivation to make everyone happy. And...and it hurt when…” They looked down, swallowing their emotions once more as they halted their watery eyes from crying again.

Lucifer let his body unwind ever so slightly. It would be rude of him now to not follow their example. “I...regret my words and my actions. I allowed my emotions to get the best of me, it won’t happen again.” He let the conversation fall once more as he took the time to straighten his coat around his shoulders and his gloves tighter over his fingers. “It was not my intention to invalidate your efforts. You’ve already accomplished more than I originally thought you were capable of, and it was foolish on my part to expect more from a simple human.” His rather backhanded compliment forced MC to rest their face in their hands in shame. The nerves in Lucifer’s spine shot a jolt up his back as he realized how terribly this was going. His temples were pounding, and he finally put his pride aside for the sake of reconciliation. He couldn’t stand to be the cause of their distress. MC stiffened as he sat himself beside them on their bed. A gentle hesitant hand hovered above their body before it settled between their shoulder blades. He glanced at the door where he knew Mammon was behind, probably listening in, and so he spoke softer. “I’m...sorry.” He had to ignore how harshly the words hurt him, but something about it was freeing. “I seem to have pushed you too far. I am thankful and truthfully astonished of what you’ve done during your time here. Not only did I cross a line today but I was blind to the fact that you’ve been overtaxing yourself. I know how hard it is to juggle my siblings and my work.”

He allowed his hand to drift up and down their back in a soothing rhythm, relaxing some himself as their muscles eased at his touch. MC finally raised their head from the confines of their palms and looked him in the eyes. “Do you think I’m a disappointment? A burden?” He found himself stunned for the second time today, and for a while he wondered when it was that he could be so easily swayed by the words and emotions of this human. Here he was, not only apologizing, but expending every effort he had in consoling them. He wanted MC to be happy again, because somehow it seemed to make his days a little brighter, his mood a little softer. Perhaps...he cared more for them than he realized. Their shouts had wounded him deeply at dinner, but somehow these new words hurt him more. Their forlorn face spurred an unfamiliar pain in his chest.

“I’m sure it will be hard to convince you after the unforgivable things I said to you today, but it could not be further from the truth. I suppose the fact that you question yourself is one of my biggest failures. Clearly, we have not been communicating properly. For that I am..s...sor…” The words got caught in his throat. Apologizing once had been difficult enough, a second time seemed impossible. Out of the blue, he felt a tight set of arms wrap around his torso. He held his arms up in the air, his body turning rigid as his little hairs stood up on end. MC had pulled him into a tight hug, burying their face in his side. He felt their nose nestle against his ribs. As soon as he found his breath, his arms slowly lowered, settling around the smaller human. His body felt warm. Allowing himself a small smile, he cleared his throat. “I would prefer a situation like this to never happen again, do you understand?” MC detached from his sides, sitting back up as they nodded silently. “So, for the future, instead of quarreling with me, I expect you to come straight to me to discuss any woes or issues you may have. Fair enough?”

“Yes, Lucifer.”

He gingerly brushed his fingers against MC’s cheeks. “But it would be remiss of me to ignore the faults of my own. Since our meal was interrupted, what do you say to me taking you out to dinner, as my way of making amends?”

MC felt themselves blush a bit. “Sure-”

The door burst open, Mammon leading the charge as the rest of the siblings spilled into the doorway. They’d all been eavesdropping. Mammon came over and tugged MC further away from Lucifer. “Oi, what did I say about touching MC?!”

“And our dinner was interrupted too, I think we deserve something!” Asmo whined.

A loud grumble echoed from Beel’s gut. “I’m starving…”

Lucifer’s eyelid twitched a bit, and he gave MC one last apologetic look before he sighed. “Fine...we’re all going to dinner then.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc

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glimmerglanger · 4 years ago

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For a possible Make Your Bed snippet - reunion with Rex and/or Ahsoka, perhaps??? I also find myself super curious about how things ended up between Mav and Mirrti. Anyway, gorgeous finale, I was having heart palpitations throughout the last two chapters and I thank you dearly for them. ♥

remyblue said:

If you're still taking prompts for Make Your Bed, background Mav/Mirrti? Finding Rex and Ashoka? Also your writing is lovely and every update of Make Your Bed was a highlight/a wonderful gift these past weeks so thank you! >_<

Gooood morning! Since I’ve done Rex and Ahsoka, this one focuses on Mav and Mirrti. Set during Chapter Five. Angst and a lot of feelings. Discussion of mind control.

~~~~~~~

It had only been a handful of days since Mav stepped through the door to Mirrti’s quarters.

It felt like a lot longer.

He looked over the space while Mirrti made her way in, moving over to the small bench that served as a couch and just sinking down. The quarters were tiny, but they were private. He had...a lot of pleasant memories about the bunk along one wall; all the blankets were in order. Usually most of them were on the floor.

Last time he’d been in this room, Mirrti had helped him put his armor on, because they’d indulged, and he was running behind to get down to Utapau. She’d kissed his forehead before he pulled his bucket on.

He reached up, rubbing at his brow, chest and gut tight, and she said, “I’m sorry.”

Mav winced, looking over towards her. She’d bent over her legs, pale hair loose and falling down around her face. Parts of it were stained dark with blood. Not hers. He’d checked. She was still wearing a jumpsuit from the brig. And, when he’d first come around the corner, after she’d commed him, he’d thought--

“I know you must be furious,” she said, voice muffled by her hands, over her face.

Mav considered that. His emotions were all a tangled mess. They felt sharp-edged, in a way he wasn’t used to. Like they’d been sharpened into blades and turned against both him and everyone around him.

He said, “I think I am angry, yes.” He watched her nod, watched her shoulders shake, something simmering up his spine, thinking about the feeling of being trapped in his own head, screaming where no one could hear. Thinking about the nat-borns. Jocobi and Tullop had gloated, and - and gone further, but--

He flexed his fingers in and out, looking down at his own hands, surprised by the itch in his knuckles and the hot boil of emotion in his gut. His voice was sharp when he said, “You just left -- us.”

He heard her make a sound. Her voice cracked when she said, “I didn’t know--what was going on. Admi--Jocobi got a message. Over Utapau. It said - it said the Jedi had attempted a coup. That they were traitors. And that you - you all had received new orders. That you’d--listen better. Follow your orders. I… and then you were. Blank. Empty.”

He stared at the far wall, his jaw aching. He was grinding his teeth together. He tried to make himself stop, with limited success. She said, quietly, “You wouldn’t talk to me.”

Mav swore, and it was easy enough to slam the side of his hand into the closet wall. The wash of pain down his arm felt… grounding. Mirrti made a ragged, startled sound, and-- He’d wanted to talk to her. To beg her for help, at first.

And then to beg her to stop.

The thing in his head hadn’t appreciated her continued attempts to speak with him. It had taken him back to his bunk multiple times and grabbed a pad, opening a form to report behavior that indicated sedition and--

Mav had fought it, as best he could. He’d tried to focus on the fact that she was a junior officer - she had no real power, he’d tried to convince the thing in his head. And - and he’d focused on his memories of their time together. The way they tangled close.

It wasn’t sedition. Just - just a lonely officer, who wanted physical release from his body.

The thing in his head must have believed it. It hadn’t filed any of the reports, anyway.

“I couldn’t talk to you,” he said, finally, his voice in shreds.

She looked up, her hair stuck to her cheeks. “You could have, I would have helped, don’t you know that I--”

“I couldn’t, Mirrti. Physically. There was.” He blew out a breath, gut sour and burning. Cody hadn’t given him orders not to talk about the thing in their heads. But, likely, that was because Cody was barely managing to keep things running. He looked terrible and was furious with the nat-borns. All of them.

Mav had never seen Cody really angry, before. It made him uncomfortable. The way he’d looked at Mirrti, like he wanted to shake her or - or worse, had made something burn in Mav’s throat. He shook those thoughts aside and swallowed. He said, “There was something in my head. In all of our heads.”

Mirrti turned to look at him, finally. Her face was streaked wet, darkened to purple under her eyes. “What?”

Mav grimaced, waving a hand out to the side. It ached, where he’d slammed it into the wall. “Some kind of kriffing chip. I don’t know. The Kaminoans put it there and when they turned it on…” He snorted, an ugly sound. “We got blank. Empty. I couldn’t do anything except watch what was happening. And you - you just stood there. You watched Tullop--”

He trailed off, throat closing around the words, strangling them. Strangling him. Jocobi had been smug and awful, but mostly kept to his own quarters. Tullop had taken inordinate joy from wandering among them, in ordering them to do degrading little tasks, just because he could, and--

“So, yes,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m angry, Mirrti.”

It felt good, naming the emotion. She nodded, head dropping, shackles still around her wrists because Cody had been lenient enough to let her come back here, but there’d been limits to how far he was willing to stretch any magnanimity.

She hadn’t asked to have them removed, anyway.

Mav swallowed, his own eyes burning. He was angry, and didn’t know, really, how to process the swell of it. There was so much. And it hadn’t crept into his chest alone. He panted out, voice cracking all at once, “And scared. I was so - the chip wanted to report you, Mirrti. As a traitor, and you wouldn’t stop coming around. And…”

She looked up at him again, expression frozen into place, fresh tears on her cheeks. And he’d thought Cody was going to throttle her, earlier, after the breakout. After she commed him, told him in stuttering breathes that the other nat-borns had gotten away, and--

She could have run with them. They’d have been able to reach a comm station. The Empire would know. Know what they were doing on the Vigilance. Even if they’d caught the nat-borns after that, it wouldn’t have mattered. A single message could undo all of them.

His heart had lurched when she commed him, going so fast it had hurt. It was still racing. He was angry and he’d been worried and currently he did not know what he was feeling, only that there was too much of it, all crowding together inside his head, tangled with memories of - of being in this room, of Mirrti leaning her arm on his chest, her skin so blue as he trailed fingers through her hair and they discussed taking leave together, her body soft and warm against his, the way she laughed when he got tired of talking--

He blew out a breath, running a hand back over his head, wondering what the kriff they were supposed to do next.

#glimmer replies #ask me anything #make your bed lie in it #mav and mirrti #feelings and trauma about mind control

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elionwriter · 4 years ago

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Since I'm not sure I want to write new, full Fanfictions right now (I'm already working on a Good Omens one) I'm just gonna post some Star Wars/ Dinluke headcanons and prompts and ask you guys if you want me to flesh them out.

PART 1:

Their meeting and the events on board of Moff Gideon's light cruiser change things quite radically for both Din Djarin and Luke Skywalker. On Din's side, without the child actively in his care he is left without a proper goal and without a proper path. He can't go back being a simple bounty hunter, mostly because the ones he did it for are gone...

So what now? He always knew he would do anything to bring Grogu's mission to a proper end but he never actually thought of what would happen after. Nor did he immagine that it would leave him so shattered, broken and lonely.

Is it stubborn denial that his business with the child is over that makes him investigate further about the matter? A part of him wants to believe that yes, yes it is, but something about it just doesn't sit right with him. As Dr. Pershing is brought back as a prisoner to New Republic forces he is thoughtfully interrogated about his work and his part in the operations of the empirial cell. The man doesn't give his interrogators a hard time, answering everything as honestly as he can, but doesn't seem to know much afterall. Din can't help but feel somewhat sorry for him: he was taught cloning engineering by the last Kaminoans alive, apparently another species the Empire had decided were better off exterminated and forgotten after fulfilling their purpose. Except they hadn't, not completely, and now experts on the subject were even more rare than beskar. The Dr. was one of them and his knowledge and capacity was the only thing keeping him alive after the empirials sought him out. Whether or not he had any real sympathy for the imps was rather irrelevant and they were his one remaining shot at doing his actual job (there wasn't really a high demand for clones nowadays). He followed Moff Gideon's orders but he knew that the orders were actually coming from much higher up. Who was pulling the strings and what they ultimately wanted, he didn't know. They didn't trust him with those informations. All he knew was that they needed him to create a body with the kid's life expectancy and his M count. They had kidnapped and experimented on other force sensitive children but none of them seemed to have Grogu's qualities and were disposed of. When the guard told him to stand up to be brought back to his cell, the doctor looked at Din and asked "Is the child safe?" "Yes, he is." Answered the mandalorian and the other nodded exhausted "Good, that's good. Thank you." Din nodded back to him and watched him leave.

The only reason Din had been allowed to follow the interrogation was obviously Cara Dune, which had delivered Dr. Pershing and Gideon to the authorities. Cara was however busy talking with someone he didn't know, another woman, a very elegant and majestic one at that. He couldn't help but notice the friendly and intimate tone the conversation seemed to have. Cara later introduced her to him as senator Leia Organa -Solo, a legend of the Rebellion and the Princess of Aldeeran. Suddenly the two's steadyfast bond became very clear. Apparently, the Senator found the story about the two prisoners extremely distressing and had already "her best man" look into it. She spoke very kindly to Din and, as a true politician, thanked him for his services to the Republic. Din quickly changed subject and asked if Moff Gideon had revealed anything more useful than the doctor.

As expected, Gideon hadn't been as collaborative and hadn't spoken a word since he was brought in. Something in his demeanor, however, had definitely shifted and below the ever guarded and secure facade there was worry. 'That's the face of a man in deep shit! We aren't the ones he's scared of though, one can only guess what makes a guy like him fret like that...' said Cara without bothering to hide her worry.

That was the reason why Din, in the little breakes he stole from the collaboration he had fallen into with Bo-Katan and the other mandalorians, kept searching for answers. The something or someone that scared Gideon had to mean danger. And if there was danger out for Grogu it would ALWAYS be his business.

That's when he realized who the princess' "best man" was. Luke Skywalker had apparently been searching for answers too and it's during one of these occasions that they newly meet. They have a common goal and pupil to protect but very diverse skill sets and areas of expertise. That's why on the hush-hush they agree to meet occasionally when either of them seems to have some new information or lead. Neither of them properly introduces to the other, there's really no need for that, and their partnership remains for some time elusive at best. Din is a naturally secretive and private man, the Jedi on the other hand, seems to have become it, a necessity rather than an inclination. Luke doesn't ever bring Grogu along nor does he mention him, after assuring the other that the child is safe and well. Din doesn't ask. And yet, the most restless one of the two about it is the Jedi. Just like Luke can feel Din's ever present affection and sense of duty toward Grogu, Din can sense that the other is very uneasy on the matter, like two parts of him are constantly battling over something. Again, he doesn't ask.

Despite all this, however, their relationship is far from strained. There is a mutual and instinctive trust and respect between them and it becomes quickly very clear that they work well together. During the nights they have to camp or during the trip in hyperspace the two talk. They discuss about their dying creeds, their principals and beliefs, fighting techniques and recount some of their old adventures. After a while, they open up enough to discuss of their situation and daily challenges and earnestly seek the other's opinion and advice on how to face them.

Din learns that Luke is still a figure on which the New Republic sometimes relies upon, even if only for extremely delicate situations; that he spent the last few years travelling throughout the galaxy looking for lost Jedi artifacts and knowledge, hoping to learn how to best bring the order back to life for new generations of force users (expecially his young nefew); that during said travels he always made a point to help those in need and right wrongs where he saw them; that he still found himself dealing with loose ends of the Empire.

On the other hand, Luke learns of Bo-Katan's quest to reclaim Mandalore; of Din's search for knowledge and history on a culture that should be his own but that he progressively realizes he knows very little about; of his uncertainty on where he stands both with his creed and his peers and the aggravation of the dark saber which he is currently the wielder and protector of.

They feel for each other. No, they understand each other. Even as words completely fail to reveal the most critical parts of these conversations. What they do understand is this: nothing seems to make anymore any fuc****ng sense in their lives! That everything was much more simple when they were just a bounty hunter and a farm boy.

It's not that Din doesn't want to find other Mandalorians and help his people. He and Bo-katan may not always see eye to eye, but they both made extremely clear how loyal they are to their creed. It's just that Din doesn't know anymore if he still has a right to that title and to the armour he wears, if everything he was taught was a lie or not. He broke a lot of rules for the child and can't decide if that is for the best or not.

Luke, on the other hand, can't decide what to make of the Jedi teachings and contradictions he has collected. How can he act like expected and pass on lessons he himself isn't really sold on. It was his family and his ties that kept him alive and safe from the dark when facing the Emperor and his father, but it was also attachments and the Jedi's taboos that had damned his father to begin with. Should he encourage the complete detachment the old texts preached about, should he too talk only of light and cast a shadow on everything that didn't fall in that limited range of the force? But most importantly: should he keep his young apprentice from his beloved father and pointedly ignore the warm flame the mandalorian had effortlessly lit up in him?

Luke can't help but notice that when he slips and gets a bit too close, a bit too intimate and touchy with the other man, the mandalorian doesn't push him away and seems to answer this boldness with an awkward, shy breathlessness. While a part of him knows, Luke doesn't allow himself to hope or acknowledge that flicker in his chest might be mutual.

#dinluke #skydalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian #the child #grogu #din and luke #din and grogu #luke skywalker #star wars #drapple #my prompts #otp #leia organa #cara dune #moff gideon

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youarejesting · 5 years ago

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Femme: 50 Finale

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader, GDragon x Bigbang, Erik Nam, Hyuna x Dawn, Black Pink x Female oc, TXT x robot oc, Got7 x Female oc Rating: Mature themes mentioned but not really explored. Length: 2.8k Announcement: This is the last chapter. I may have cried writing this piece. Beta: @lpayne612

You saw him waiting by the car, eating a donut, and drinking a cold coffee, and you went up to the service counter, “Can I borrow your PA system to tell my husband that he is pregnant?” The man at the counter grinned and handed over the microphone, explaining how to use it.

“Park Jimin,” you said facing the forecourt - grinning watching him lookup, “I took a pregnancy test, we’re pregnant!”

You saw him drop everything before falling to his knees and crying, covering his head with his hands. “I love you.”

He got up and ran inside dodging cars. People were clapping happily, and he grabbed you, kissing you fiercely, his fingers brushing against your neck, and hooking his thumb under your soft collar.

“We did it, princess!” He sniffed.

“We did!”

“Am I going to finally be a dad?’

“You are.”

“I dropped my coffee!” He laughed, his cheeks glistening.

“One coffee for the father to be,” a man smiled. “I remember when my wife said we were pregnant, it is such a good feeling, so this one is on me”

Driving home his hand was in yours, and he would occasionally bring your hand to his face and kiss your knuckles, whispering how much he loved you. You had explained to him you mistook implantation bleeding with a period because you were stressed and tightly strung with thoughts of letting him down.

He told you that he would never want you to stress and that there was nothing you could do that would ever let him down. “Just you breathing, and in my life, means the world to me.

Jimin came home and received a hug and kiss from all the children, a few crying saying they missed him and he cried back. “Where did you go?”

“Well, DaddyJii had to buy mummy a special drink so she could have a baby,” Jimin smiled at the children.

“Don’t be silly, Daddy Goo told us how mummy has babies in her belly,” Jae Eun said.

“Yeah, he says mummy eats a special fish and then the fish swims around in her belly and changes like a tadpole,” Jae Hwa smiled proudly.

“Yes, well the special drink has the fish in it.” You smiled at them, not ready to explain the birds and the bees just yet - wanting to preserve their innocence for just a few more years.

“Does it tickle Ama?” Huimang asked, “The fishy in your belly?”

“Sometimes, but the fishy is too small to feel just yet. When the fish turns into a baby, you will be able to feel the baby move in my tummy.”

There was a big family celebration; you made a huge donation to the Femme rehabilitation organization and, honestly, had a really good pregnancy. The number one hashtag as you entered your ninth month was ‘#SugaTheMusicProducerAndBabyInducer’ which made said man pout and avoid you whenever he heard it in mock fear.

He had written a few songs boasting that any pregnant woman listening to his album may go into labour at the sound of his voice. You went live with your family talking about things and what you all planned to do as a family.

“We have shared our whole world with you and it has been so long. You, have seen our ups and downs, and we want to continue to show you everything until the end. Just recently, with my struggle with fertility, we realized we don’t want to hide all these natural things from the world.” You grimace at the camera, another cramp taking over. You were secretly timing them so as not to finish the livestream early.

“We were lucky to fall pregnant, but not everybody gets that chance, so we are so thankful and are giving a donation to the specific fertility group we went through who was absolutely lovely.” You knew that the contractions were slowly getting closer together, but you would rather stay in the comfort of your own home and keep yourself busy with a livestream than going and sitting in a hospital room bored - and uncomfortable - waiting to go into active labour and dilate.

“Someone asked if we will have any more children?” Seokjin was designated to read the comments.

“No, we are already blessed with so many we won’t be greedy. Plus, I’m getting older and there are more chances of complications the older I get, so I do not wish to push the limits of my health. I want to be around for my family for as many years as I can.”

“Have you thought of any names?” Seokjin genuinely seemed interested by this question.

“Many.” You smiled, “We don’t know the gender of our baby, so we haven’t really settled on one - but a few.”

“Have you had any weird cravings?” Jungkook read some comments over the older man's shoulder, and they all began discussing your weird eating habits.

“Yoongi, if you had to induce a baby what would you do? I am due today, and the baby doesn’t look like they’re coming any time soon.”

“Well, I would lean down and whisper, ‘alright little one, it’s time to get out or you can start paying rent,’” Yoongi laughed at your belly, rubbing it gently.

“No, I am determined to entice my own child out,” Jimin leaned down so he was cupping your belly, his lips almost brushing the fabric of your dress. “Come on now baby, daddy wants to meet you.”

You could laugh at the timing as your water broke, thanking the heavens you were shooting from the waist up. “Did…” Namjoon gasped in shock.

“Did you just pee?” Jungkook shouted

“No my water just broke.” You gripped your tummy, breathing through the pain while trying to stop the laughter.

You had all decided to take the audience with you. It was mostly the camera on the boys and a nervous looking Jimin who was doting on you in the ward. You were having a blast talking and laughing with the audience while Seokjin was texting Erik and Namjoon’s dad, trying to make sure the kids were all fine getting ready for bed.

You were taken up to the VIP labour ward and you were having a great time. Your audience was super supportive, and you said goodbye getting wheeled off to the birthing suite. This labour was the easiest - you were so experienced you knew all the cues, and your body relaxed understanding what you were supposed to do.

A little boy. He was tiny in Jimin’s hands and he kept saying thank you. “Thank you for giving me this opportunity, this miracle who I will cherish everyday, I love you both so much, I love you my princess”

He held him in his arms as they wheeled you back to the private ward where you met the others. Jimin hadn’t stopped crying and Taehyung, Hoseok, and Yoongi engulfed him in a hug. The live stream was still going on with a million-person audience waiting to see the baby.

“It’s a boy,” Jimin said, “and we both agreed his name would be Byul.”

You were happy and the boys grinned. You all looked up at the camera and waved, signing off - spending the time alone together. The nurse came in, “We have to check the baby's hearing and heart and take a full screen of his blood. All routine stuff.”

Jimin nodded, taking the baby in his arms and following the nurse. It wasn’t a long process, but when Jimin didn’t come back you started to get worried. You visibly began stressing the blankets. “What is taking so long?” your laugh was forced and there was little semblance of a joke.

“It’s okay, there are other babies. maybe they are waiting on another?”

Jimin stepped in and he was crying holding his son preciously in his hands, as if holding him too tightly could hurt the newborn. “Byul might be deaf, they will have to um, check him again soon.”

“What do you mean?”

“They said it could just be fluid in his ear, but they will check again in a few hours,” Jimin sniffed.

Upon the second third and fourth hearing test, it was almost clear that Byul was partially deaf. He could hear a little, but the doctor explained it would forever be super muffled. That didn’t mean he couldn’t recognize your voices, though. He still could just hear, and you were fine with that - any hearing was a blessing at that point.

You headed home, and Jimin took leave from work. He spent time caring for his son and even signed up for classes on sign language. Everyone went to the classes together and began learning, as it would be easier if you all learnt early.

Byul was not a typical happy baby spending most of his time crying - it was mostly due to the fact he scared easily. Being unable to hear when you were there, Byul would call for you and you would press your lips to his forehead and against his skin so he knew you were there. The vibrations running through his body.

He loved when you would do this but especially enjoyed Taehyung’s deep rumbling voice, it made him giggle.

He learnt cues differently. Instead of mum and dad, you taught him to touch his cheek in certain ways for these words. He wasn’t a shy baby, but he still only made a few noises. He was quick to learn how to walk and run and play.

Jeongsan was so good at sign language, he was quick to tell you what byul needed and took it upon himself to help his younger brother where he could.

You were still learning, and you had a discussion with the boys about your channel and what you should do. It was a mutual agreement that you would make your final broadcast that evening before a hiatus - which you didn’t know when or if you would come back.

It was a rainy afternoon, and Byul sat on your lap on the back porch, watching the rain and lighting and feeling the thunder shake the sky.

He laid back in your arms, and you sang to him and signed in front of him to sing along. He tried his best, his voice sweet like his father’s, and you did the signs the whole song.

His little gold hearing aids helped him out so much, but he sometimes preferred to not wear them, as he didn’t always like the feeling.

“My son,” you signed with a big bright smile “I love you.”

“Mama love you,” he answered, repeating your gesture as big as he could and you laughed hugging him tightly.

You all had just posted your live stream as a family saying you were going on hiatus. You felt like you wanted to cry, walking towards the kitchen to make yourself a calming cup of tea. When Kyungju asked, “Ate you okay mum?”

Turning, you looked at your family all looking back at you, all your beautiful children smiling at you, and then there were your husbands.

All looking beautiful. Seokjin still with a gentle smile, Yoongi looking impassive and yet now you could see the emotions in his eyes. Jungkook with the same bunny toothed smile, and thirteen years washed away like you were falling in love with them all over again. They stood in front of you just like they had that day, eyes bright and curious and you smiled. Speaking clearly in English while signing so every member of your family knew what you were saying.

“I love you.”

Everything was good, until I completed everything ready to post. I attached the last header for the last time and I just sobbed. Saying goodbye to this story is the hardest thing, I have experienced to this day. It was one of my safe havens a world I created to escape all the bad and well it has reached its happy ending.

Thank you for joining me on this journey.

Ever your Jester.

Femme Media 50

[The End]

Tags: @obeythehemmings @delightfuldela @zxlla @dopefrancistheturd @h5naaa @topthis808 @bubbletae7 @narcissism-iskey @gqmf-bangtanmama @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @kthstrawberryshortcake @latina-nerd-deactivated20200611 @domaindopemancom @rosita7703 @knjkitten @notruercolors @kpopnonous @ladytaja @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @bluehairedotakugem @moments-of-melancholy

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intensitystoner · 5 years ago

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Adjective Challenge 10 – Idiotic Sifki ~ 1100 words

When Father made a decision, not much was to be done about it. Loki knew from experience that the following things didn’t work at changing the King’s mind: reasoning ¤ yelling ¤ begging ¤ emotional blackmailing ¤ vague threats ¤ open threats ¤ illusions ¤ hypnotic spells ¤ memory spells ¤ humble refusal ¤ firm refusal ¤ passive resistance.

All of these led to Odin having his way sooner or later. Thus out of ideas, Loki was currently on his way to unleash the ultimate weapon on him, the one with extremely limited availability, saved for the direst times.

He knocked on the door despite catching the sounds of a chatter from inside; a palace maid could wait while her Prince dealt with his own issues.

“Do come in,” Mother called and smiled at him as he entered. “If you’ve come to discuss your undesired marriage arrangement, your timing couldn’t be better.”

“Indeed I- Sif, Lady Sif, what a- why- I am truly sorry for intruding, I’ll come back when-”

“Oh, shush, sit down, quick,” said the Queen, and there was no going against her word, so Loki moved over to the farthest sofa and lowered himself on it mechanically.

“Where were we?” she turned back to the maiden. “Yes, you were saying why you would have me excuse you from my son’s wedding in Vanaheim.”

“Uh, well, err, I’m, err,” Sif told her diligently.

Frigga smiled, which she hoped came through as encouragement, and not as the delight she felt. Because she was right once again about people, and that always brightened her mood. These two kept trying to murder each other on the training grounds, sometimes in battles as well; everyone believed they despised each other to the core, and wondered how long she’d live after marrying Thor, which was an untrue gossip, according to Thor’s telling, but it was a regular topic on people’s lips nevertheless. Frigga had been looking out for an opportunity to learn more about this peculiar triangle, and this right here seemed just perfect: a place where crude behaviour was not allowed. After the veil of conceit had been swept aside, anyone could have noticed the flustered shyness it was hiding.

“There was something about a wolf pack, as I recall,” Frigga helped the maiden huskily.

“Yes, a woof, a wolf, is, are tormenting my, my great uncle’s,” the Warmaiden faltered as her look strayed towards Loki for a second and darted back at her Queen; “my great uncle’s cattle, fire wolves, you know-”

“Fire wolves,” Frigga hissed in sympathy.

“And, and, I made- it is a matter of my honour to help, imminently.”

“Of course, darling. Every night of delay is another loss. Loki, fire wolves!” she turned towards her son in dismay.

“Yes. Horrendous. You- you- you would not- not accompany my brother, then?” Loki inquired of the young lady while adjusting his sitting like he had swallowed a spear on accident. “To my- to Vanaheim.”

“Yes. No. With your leave, of course. I am deeply sorry. Prince, Your Majesty, Highness.”

“The sorrow is Thor’s,” he pointed out firmly, and then frowned, “not yours, I mean, mine too, but obviously, it’s his. Mostly. Although, he will still- Mother, there is something I came to talk to you about,” he turned to the Queen with a sharp movement with a new surge of determination. “If I may have a word with you in private.”

“Oh, but we just got such a dire issue,” Frigga wailed, taking the Warmaiden’s hands into hers. “We’ve got fire wolves on the borderland. Loki, what are we going to do about it?”

“Well, she, the L-Lady Sif is going to- Am I correct to assume you’ll let her go, Mother?”

“Of course I will, but are we just going to let her go alone?”

That stirred up the Warmaiden.

“I assure you, my Queen, I am fully capable-”

“It is too dangerous to send one of my finest warriors to face those beasts alone,” Frigga pointed out firmly. “And if you think about it, they’re also living beings just trying to get by. Perhaps there is another solution besides slaying them down.”

Sif didn’t usually consider vicious beasts as things worthy of life, so she wasn’t sure what to answer, but Loki had been fidgeting for a while in preparation of speaking up, and now he grabbed the opportunity, clearing his throat.

“In that case, I could- There is no harm in letting some of our finest soldiers go as well. I am travelling to a peaceful realm, so there really is no harm in bringing a smaller entourage. Mother, if you insist on sending my brother with- with the Lady-”

“Or,” Frigga perked up, seemingly at a sudden idea. “Perhaps we’d need someone who knows his way with wolves. A whisperer, or, I don’t know, a shapeshifter? That way, we could find an agreement with the pack and put an end to the nightly massacre without taking further lives unnecessarily. What do you say, my precious young ones?”

They stared at her so wide-eyed that they almost forgot to nod simultaneously, neither venturing to speak up first, or to look at the other. Under the Queen’s heavy gaze, Loki cleared his throat and adjusted the pillows under him until it was all impeccable, and thus cornered with nothing else to do, he spoke.

“In- in fact, I happen to have those qualities. Skills. So, as a sovereign of the realm, I will have to take it up as my duty to- tackle those- the problem.”

“Oh, that was not at all my intention,” Sif quickly replied, “to have you, to have you tackle my problem. I will seek out a wolf whisperer in-”

“I cannot allow that,” Loki interrupted with chin raised but a flustered blush on his cheeks. “My honour, that is, it can’t, I will have to go.”

“But that would delay your wedding-”

“Yes,” he agreed vehemently before he could have thought about it, so he had no other choice than to go through with it, sitting straight like everything was under his control. “It is a sacrifice, it has to be made, done, for the good of the realm. Isn’t that so, Mother?”

The Queen nodded articulately, her smile content behind her fingers that supported her on the table.

“You will depart at dawn,” she declared, her tone like she was dealing the warmest compliments. “For a swift travel, take few things and let no one else accompany you. I will take care of everything else. Now off you go.”

Sif was still agitated as the three of them stood up.

“But my Queen, the wedding-”

“-will be delayed,” Frigga smiled at her, taking her hand. “Vanaheim is my homeland, I know how to appease them. Leave that to me, and you take good care of my son on the journey, will you?”

She all but laughed as the two youngsters quickly said their farewells and skittered out of the room to hide their deepening blush.

#sifki #fanfiction #da orky writing #sifki adjective challenge

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 5 years ago

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20. Sink

Word Count: 3989 Trigger warnings for religion and mentions of child pornography

Lord, if it’s you,” (Simon) Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.” “Come,” he said. Then (Simon) Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”

Matthew 14:28-30

Simon had never been very religious. Scratch that… Simon had never been very mystical about religion. Whenever he was younger, his family went to church and he was quite studious and learned a lot in that time period. His father still believed in God and country or whatever and his grandmother, he imagined was praying over his mom every single day. But, he had never really known what it felt like to have that kind of faith in anyone or anything… until he was given Grace. It wasn’t lost on him the religious implications of being a boy named Simon (like Simon Peter, aka The Apostle Peter - huge name in the Bible world) being granted a savior, being blessed with Grace after a terrible sin, whether intentional or not, of killing Hope… His mind was in a daze right now.

It was the fourth religious dream he had since that interview, and in this one, he was Simon Peter, calling to his Savior in the storm. Grace was just across the water. All he had to do was get to her and she would rescue him from all of this, just like she always used to. But, he looked at the impending storm, instead. He had Grace, but he was focused on the storm, and he sank… He jumped up from his sleep and literally felt like he had been drowning. Ugh. 10 years of church and 4 years of private school could definitely mess with one’s mind. Then again, so could 6 years of Grace and 5 years without it… her…

He had begun to try to stop rationalizing that she wasn’t human. Unfortunately for him, before he considered her the void, she hadn’t been human for him either, then. She had been a deity. He worshipped her. She had been a vessel to save him, to help him, to comfort him. She had been what he built his faith system upon, his religion, his Apex, his lifestyle… Then, she was gone and he tried to continue without her. He tried to rebuild in his own image, in his own name. He tried to walk on water, as he had seen her do, now all he was doing was sinking…

In the aftermath of the interview, Simon noted that his faithful followers went on one of their ravenous attacks in Shana’s comment sections. She could even just post a photo of herself in the newsroom at Spelman as an inspirational post and they appeared in her comments to berate her for speaking about inspiration when she would attack an abuse survivor and have his abuser on her show, trying to make her sympathetic. Shana seemed entertained for some of the comments, replying things like a simple “K” or “Lol” and never addressing the person again, even if they supplied a melee of character attacks at her.

But, on the video link, whenever people started also attacking Grace’s fakeness and the fact that she still gets to abuse Simon indirectly by doing things like this, Shana had enough. She let them know that she had no regrets about the interview with Grace, no regrets about anything that she said about Simon, and none about all of her opinions of him. “Even if he’s a different person today, considering that he never got any backlash for the sex tape from high school, which i firmly STILL believe that he should be held accountable for, which I am convinced that he leaked, and I think that if he’s truly changed, he would have wanted to make that right at some point and free Grace from the uninvited attacks for that CRIME AGAINST HER, committed by him.”

There was an explosion of mixed reactions. Everything from, “This is the first that I’m hearing of this” to “Simon would never have done anything like that to Grace” to “WHERE CAN I FIND A SEX TAPE OF SIMON AND GRACE???” Many people were blocked. Many people were rocked, as Shana went live to address the massive amount of comments coming from her spilling that tea.

She made mention of the facts that while the statute of limitations of revenge porn had been exceeded, they didn’t exist for child porn. “And in case anybody is confused, yes, I am including links to inform you about how what he did is in fact child pornography creation, possession, and distribution, AND what the law says concerning them.” After replying to many of the comments, mostly in an amused fashion, she got bored.

“Listen, I’m getting ready to go chill with my lady and get ready for class tomorrow, but I’ll just say this one more thing, “I’m not taking my foot off of Simon Laurent’s neck. As long as Grace has had to suffer in silence, because she’s no longer the vengeful type or whatever, she’s on right now in her journey, the journalist in me and the enraged victim in me will always come for Simon and the way he used the privilege that he did have - not to say that he didn’t lack in certain areas like money and common decency, but the ones he DID have - his race, his gender, his orientation, his proximity to education, etc, in order to vilify and humble this girl with false accusations of crimes, and get away with unconfessed crimes. Yeah, this IS about my Sassy Strawberry keychain, Simon you bitch! I know you watching. To those of you who can’t be bothered to use your Googles, I don’t know what to tell you, kinfolk. Shady Shana has said all that she needs to say for now. Tata, from the perfect place for shade.”

Then her accusations, the search for the information of said accusations and the buzz from back then resurfacing went even more viral than the things that he had said about Grace whenever he reached notoriety from the stories. Now that the Internet and social media were even bigger and just kept growing with time, Grace still being a huge public persona, despite the few short years that she wasn’t online and the time she had been inside, she made an explosive comeback at least as an Internet personality, and Simon was never as frequent online as he was a short time in the eye of the public to get himself established, but several professors had used his story for various seminars and lectures, his books did pretty well, and he was a very established young mind in his academic circles… So, he was a big deal in his world, but on the grand scale becoming infamous for this new attention.

Shana and Grace’s worlds were very large, and both of those were combining to infiltrate his world with these not necessarily new pieces of information, but things that he thought would have been forgotten or left alone. He had not even considered that Shana would ever… Like… why was SHE so damn upset? Because of a small scuffle? Because of somebody else’s alleged injustice? Somebody that she didn’t even LIKE for most of her life? “Journalist” she was a shit-stirrer! All of her muckraking was making things complicated for simple Simon. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like dreaming about Grace as his savior. He didn’t like the idea of reaching out to her to get her to grab her dog. He didn’t like that he was suffering from nights more sleepless than usual and beginning to become counterproductive in his work.

Worrying about ramifications of the words “child pornography” and “sexual predator” being tossed about in conversations with his name led to nightmares, paranoia, guilt, intrusive thoughts, and mistakes in class and at work. One of them turned out big…

Amelia came up to him in her lab, with her arms folded and her face stern, “Is there anything you think we should discuss, Mr. Laurent?” He frowned and glanced her way, still working on the formula for the next tests in the prosthetics serum they were spending time discussing as one of his potential next big things. She raised her eyebrows and asked, “Not even an acknowledgment of what I’m speaking of?”

“I know what you’re speaking of and I decided that no, we don’t need to discuss it. It’s a personal matter.”

“A personal matter? Simon, you are supposed to be seeing a counsellor once a week, and now I find out that not only did he recommend that you see him twice a week, but that you haven’t seen him in several weeks! It is part of your ability to stay here, and I don’t appreciate that you’ve ducked out on this requirement, especially considering the personal matter you’re referring to.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and set down his supplies. “This is about the shrink? I haven’t been able to see the guy, because I’ve been working on the new formula nonstop. I need a breakthrough, and if I can get the formula right for enhancing the prosthetics, I’ll be famous for that. I’ll be closer to the goal of enriching artificial organs, maybe even organic ones!”

“I know what this work would mean if successful. That isn’t the point. The point is that you are not allowed to be here without the help that you need and you agreed to. I’m going to have to speak to the committee, now that I know you haven’t been…” She turned and he caught her wrist really hard. The woman jerked away. She was stronger than he thought.

“Amelia… Please. I need this. People are out to get me. Out to destroy everything that I’ve built for myself, without parents, without love, without an inheritance. I got here on my own merit, my own mind! I can’t have it be the thing that gets me sent away.”

“You needed to consider that after we gave you another chance! We can’t keep going back and forth with you while you refuse to take the help that you need in order to get to your next rung!” She was loud. He felt like she was yelling at him. He didn’t like people yelling at him, especially women, especially older ones… It made him extremely angry and he yelled right back at her, only to find that she either hadn’t been yelling or she had an even louder yelling setting.

“I’M DOING MY GODDAMN BEST!”

“MAYBE YOUR BEST ISN’T GOOD ENOUGH!”

And in addition to the yelling, the thing yelled was extremely hurtful. But, Simon was an angry hurt type. So, he was hurt, but it manifested in anger, “LIKE YOURS WASN’T! YOU HATE ME BECAUSE I CAN BE A BETTER YOU!” She laughed. That made him even angrier. “ADMIT IT! YOU’RE SO HARD ON ME BECAUSE I AM BETTER THAN YOU!”

“Simon, you’re a child. A foolish, often incorrect child. There are many things that I credit as better than me. You aren’t one of them.” He was breathing hard and clenching his fists. “I advise you to immediately set an appointment with your therapist and I demand that you leave the lab at once. At the very least, you need to take a break. At worse… you broke our agreement, Simon.” She began to touch his research, to put everything away, as he stormed out, trying not to let her see him cry and trying not to explode in the lab and further mess things up for himself. He didn’t get far before there was a different explosion in there. Not an extremely loud one, but loud enough that he turned around as others rushed in.

Simon got on the phone, calling the last counselor that he had spoken to as everyone else scurried about trying to get help and rushing in various directions. “She was just arguing with Laurent, he rushed out and then this happened,” he heard someone say and he watched the three students who had been talking stop and look right at him. “Are you calling 911?” One of them asked. He shook his head, because he hadn’t been. Once again, it wasn’t his first thought when he witnessed an emergency. One of them grabbed their phone out, presumably to do so and he… left. He probably should have stayed, but he couldn’t breathe and needed some space and needed to rage.

It didn’t take others long to start whispering. Simon had found a dumpster to kick for a while before returning to the scene and seeing them rushing Amelia into an ambulance. Police were there and wanted to talk with him. He knew that people would talk. They had been talking. He also knew that sometimes he imagined that people were talking more than they actually were and he hoped that perhaps, this would be one of those times that he imagined the criticism. It was not.

On top of the internet’s allegations of child pornography, learning that the state of California might be investigating these allegations, for the Monroe Estate, and being questioned about his chemical engineering “mistake” with the formula that became unstable as Professor Hughes attempted to put it away…

Simon was whatever the opposite of numb was. He felt all things, everything, anything, all at once and at a peak. He hadn’t felt this way in a really long time and the only times he had, he had Grace to think of and settle him. After that, he had his own greatness to reflect upon… but that was slipping away from him and Grace had slipped away… No… He had shoved her away, and he needed her so much right now. Because he didn’t know if he could pull himself up from sinking. “Lord save me!” He heard himself yelling from the water in the storm… But Grace couldn’t hear him. She was too far away, and she wasn’t his savior anymore. He looked up for something to latch onto, but all there was, was the Void.

Its big black, form, with an aura of fluid black smoke, and hovered over him and charged at him, its face stopping just short of his own and he looked up to see it. It was nothing but a pale mask, much like one of the ones that Grace used to wear. Maybe… Maybe she was still inside of the void somewhere. Maybe she would rescue him after all. “Grace?” he called, “Is that you?” It had nothing in it’s face. No feeling, no warmth. There was no way that Grace was there. It had no reply. He blinked it away and looked at the police. They had just released him… so… something had saved him… for now. Probably just dumb luck, or lack of evidence. There had to be a lack of evidence, because he knew that he had done nothing wrong.

Despite having done nothing wrong, he had apparently made some type of mistake with the formula, but he figured it was more likely that Amelia had made some mistake in putting it away. It was too soon to voice that opinion. Students were upset, like she was some lovable figure. She was a bitch. He didn’t feel bad at all that she was hurt and he hoped that nobody expected him to act like he did. But, they were talking again. He felt like whenever he was a freshman at the academy and the staff and students didn’t appreciate him because they hadn’t seen his value yet… but these people knew him. He was important! He was significant now! He had done everything to become valuable and honored, including giving up Grace when she was holding him back!

“Simon, it sounds like you’re just blaming everyone else for your problems again.”

“I’m only saying what happened. I matter, and they treat me like I don’t. They look at me like I’m a criminal. They’re handling me like I haven’t done great things! Like they haven’t heard of me or something! Who do they think they are?”

“To not value you? Maybe they’re just strangers, Simon. You’ve spoken to me a few times, and I don’t know you, either. That doesn’t take away from anything that you might have done, but it doesn’t give me the insight that you have of yourself. The same can be said about any of the people here,” the counsellor said. Simon resumed his meetings, but it was too little too late, as he was called back to the committee.

Grace was really just trying to enjoy her life. She only did the interview with Shana because Shana had REALLY come through in finding Hazel for her. She explained to the people keeping Hazel how she knew her and how she found her (not mentioning Shana’s name, but that she “hired an investigator”) mainly because she just wanted to see how Hazel was doing. The short answer was “not great,” but the long answer was Grace hated the fact that everyone that she talked to about Hazel didn’t seem to really know her or how to deal with her. That made her afraid that Hazel would continue to get bounced around, and eventually be lost to her again. After being approved as someone who could visit and spend time with Hazel (a longer process than she would have liked, and one that she knew could have been shortened if she just went crawling back to her parents), but one that was worth the work, because not only was she able to see Hazel and talk to her, but she also got her a phone, in case they were separated again and Hazel needed to reach out to her.

The last thing that Grace wanted to do was be dragged into Simon’s situation. So, whenever people asked her about him, sent her messages, intruded into her comments, @ her in posts… she declined from responding. She made a statement on her linked social media accounts, reminding everyone that 1. She doesn’t speak about Simon. 2. She said everything that she intended to say to people outside of the situation to Shana in the interview. 3. She is not responsible for Shana’s feelings about the incident in question (the recording and sharing of the recording) 4. She has never spoken to anyone but Simon about the incident in question and doesn’t plan on going much more in depth with anybody about it any time soon.

Whenever asked about the recording, since she did say in the statement that she had spoken with Simon about it, and it was presumed that meant that maybe they had made it together and it got leaked, as those things tend to do, she confirmed that she didn’t know anything about the recording until after everyone else had seen it, that she doesn’t like to think about it or that time in her life because it was one of her most embarrassing and painful experiences and she doesn’t want to have to relive it simply because people are curious about these details that don’t affect them one way or another…

People were relentless and dedicated to being in other people’s business. What about Simon? It affects Simon! Why aren’t you helping clear Simon’s name? Why are you still hurting Simon? What about affecting Simon? She’d punch every last one of these people in the mouth, just like she did Simon when she found out, if they were in front of her. Even, now, being someone trying very hard to be peaceful and patient… “Simon already knows everything about that time that I would be able to say, so telling anyone else anything wouldn’t help him or me. If I was silent about it whenever it might have actually changed my trajectory in a favorable way, I’m certainly not going to begin going off about it now that I’ve been given another chance at a positive life, despite the things that caused me pain. Simon knows more than I do and more than you. Perhaps you should ask him, if you want someone who doesn’t seem to mind speaking about these subjects.”

That was what did it. Simon watched in a panic as former Apex members, arose to defend Grace and admit that during the time, Simon was open with certain people about having orchestrated the recording and using it to oust Grace from her throne. “We were mean kids, and I don’t know if we thought far ahead enough to really see what something like that could do to somebody. We all found it either funny or scary and weren’t brave enough to stand up for her back then, but Grace did nothing wrong and people should let her live her life instead of bringing this back up and hurting her again.” They basically all said some variation of that.

He became immediately notorious as #GraceDidNothingWrong began trending and multiple Apex members, former nonessentials, declared nulls, and actual victims of some of Simon’s direct attacks come forward, opening up about their experiences with Simon’s Apex, the Apex in general, including anecdotes, quotes, confessions, etc to further prove Simon’s guilt. To top it off Simon was put on academic probation as everything unfolded including the way he had been handling his psychiatric deal with the committee being unmet and the negligence that led to Professor Hughes’ accident. When he began losing various deals, gets major backlash for the accident, on top of the allegations of child pornography being investigated, he began to spiral as he considered possible charges from CA to MA. He deleted all of his social media accounts and shadow cyberstalked Grace, only to see that she really wasn’t participating in all of this.

He was SO CLOSE to his first Master’s degree. He couldn’t let all of this throw away his future! He was young and stupid and maybe he was wrong, but he wasn’t going to say that and he definitely didn’t feel like he deserved to be punished for it right now!

He had been trying not to think about that interview, but the more he tried not to think about it, the more he obsessed over it - over her wondering how he was doing, over the potential for her to actually still care. It was so stupid. It was foolish. There was no way that she really felt like that, but all of his distraction had caused him to possibly make some type of stupid mistake. The police were investigating, but he was the main one working in the lab, so whatever happened was most likely due to some type of misstep on his part. He certainly had not rigged anything to explode in Professor Hughes’ face, like some seemed to be trying to suggest!

The fact that they did not get along wasn’t very helpful to him. The argument right before it happened made it even more suspicious, and where they should have been able to speak with his psychiatrist to ensure that he was doing fine… he hadn’t been consistent with any long enough for them to know that he was doing fine… which brought attention back on him from the committee, which he guessed felt like he was jumping through loopholes in their deal. He saw the Void again, it's voice like a chorus of succubi singing, “I’ve come to take everything from you. It’s what you deserve.”

He rushed to the airport. He didn’t even have a place to stay. He rushed to the Monroe’s, snuck into their gate and beat on the door. It was 2 am, but he couldn’t wait. The Void was after him, and he NEEDED his Grace.

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics

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zukuthehero · 5 years ago

Text

Lessons and Torture

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || AO3

## Izuku POV ##

I nervously entered the Principal’s office.

Rescue theory hadn’t been hard, we’d gone over the basics of what disasters happened the most and discussed what we would be learning in the future.

But now I had private lessons.

With the Principal.

I was nervous.

“Hello Midoriya-san.”

I swallowed, “Hello Principal Nedzu.”

He waved a paw at me, motioning to the couch. He perched in the chair across from it.

I moved to sit down.

“Now then, lets discuss One for All.”

I paled, “ah, One for All? What’s that?”

The bear/rat/dog smiled at me, “I know about your quirk Midoriya-san, All Might himself told me.”

I relaxed, oh good, thank goodness I hadn’t screwed up.

“Let’s discuss it, and your cover for it shall we?”

I nodded.

He wants to discuss my quirk, okay, I can do that. Oh wait, then he knows I lied ‘about having a mental enhancement, am I going to be in trouble? Did I only get my classes changed because he’s covering for me? Did I not-‘

“Oh no Midoriya-san! You absolutely did well enough to get your classes changed on your own. Have no fear of that.”

I flushed, I’d been mumbling again.

“And I wasn’t certain if you’d lied about the mental enhancement or not, your analysis abilities certainly are skilled enough to have some sort of enhancement.”

I shook my head, “No, I was quirkless.” I looked away, my gut twisting.

“I see.” There was a long moment of silence, “Would you like some tea?”

I blinked, breathing in and noticing the scent of Jasmine as I peered at the Principal, who had a teapot and two delicate teacups in front of him.

“Oh, um, s-sure.”

He smiled brightly and poured me a cup. I took a small sip when he passed it to me.

“Now then, the tests you completed showed that you were above the basics of our curriculum. You’re easily skilled enough in Math, English, and Strategy. On the other hand, you’re lacking in the sciences, or perhaps only some of them?” He looked at me expectantly.

I shifted, “My dad sends me books on subjects I like, or he thinks are important. He works overseas,” That’s what we’re always supposed to say, and he might be overseas, his job is top secret, “and knowing different languages is important, so I’ve focused on them a lot. And strategy is a lot of fun. Math is really useful to so…”

He nodded, “What Languages can you speak? And how fluent are you in them?”

“I’m fluent enough in English to hold a conversation and write with it. Um, I can- I can speak Mandarin pretty well, writing Mandarin isn’t, uh, it isn’t hard for me either, so I mostly have it down. I can also speak some Russian…. Just like, important phrases and basic conversational speech mainly, and I can read most of what I can speak, um, plus a fe- a few random words.” I hesitated.

“That’s impressive, any other languages?”

I chewed my lip, I wasn’t sure if it counted but, “I know French in theory? I can’t… I can’t really speak it well, the sounds are hard to make. Writing it is hard to, it’s spelling is difficult. But I can read the most important stuff that would be on signs, and I know how to ask for directions and stuff… I’m not good at pronunciation though.”

He nodded, sipping his tea. “French is a hard language, it took me some time to get learn it. I’ll give you some instruction on the languages if you’d like, it is a very useful skill to have.”

I straightened, “That would- that would- that would be great!”

I groaned mentally at my stutter, I need to stop doing that.

“Surprisingly your scores at your old school, Aldera? Didn’t show your knowledge of math or English. Your scores were fairly average?”

I shifted, “Ah, well….”

I really couldn’t think of a response.

“I know you do not have a mental enhancement quirk,” He sipped his tea, gaze locked on me, “But…” He hummed tilting his head, “You are extremely smart. I don’t quite understand why you wouldn’t showcase your skills?”

I clutched the tea cup, this was just the beginning of the lesson, we’d barely begun and we were already onto hard subjects.

“People don’t like being outdone by a useless quirkless person.”

I didn’t look up in the ensuing silence.

I heard the sharp clink of his cup being placed back on the saucer.

I clutched my cup tighter.

“I see.”

I breathed in slowly, one, two, three, four.

“Well, that will not be the case here. I expect you to showcase your full potential at UA.”

I peaked up, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

“Yes sir,” I breathed.

The principal smiled brightly, “If you have any trouble with any of the students because of your knowledge, inform me please.”

I nodded, hiding my smile by taking a sip of tea.

I like UA.

“Now then!”

I jolted.

“Let’s continue with the subjects you’re best at. Math?”

“Uh, dad said it was really important to be good at math, just for life in general. Plus, it helps me calculate stuff for my analysis.”

He nodded, “Of course of course, math is very useful. And your analysis, how long have you been doing that?”

I brightened, “Oh for a long time! My dad used to sit with me and watch hero fights and would help me break down their quirks and fighting styles. I think I still have some old notebooks I wrote in crayon.” I laughed, those notebooks were so old, but mom kept them right where dad put them.

“Oh? What does your dad do? His file is very sparse.”

“Ah, he works overseas…” I’m not supposed to talk about dad’s work, really not supposed to know either but I’d considered going into the same career as him.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, does private work…”

“I see.”

I’m glad he didn’t continue that questioning.

“Now then, have you studied any sciences?”

“Um, some physics, it’s pretty hard but I’ve studied it some.”

“An excellent science to study! If you continue studying it now then perhaps you’ll be able to test out of it by your third year.”

I brightened, that would be nice.

“Now then, are there any other subjects you’ve studied? Anything that might not be taught at the school as well?”

“I studied a lot of quirk history, for my analysis, and some pre-quirk era history. It’s all really interesting.” I forced myself to stop there, I could go on for hours about the history of quirks and how they worked and how they had changed with time.

“An wonderful area to study, you can learn a lot from the past.” He offered the tea pot, then refilled my cup.

“Now then, what are your plans for the future? To be a hero obviously, but there’s so much more than that.”

I chewed my lip, “I uh, I want to help people?”

He looked at me expectantly.

I took a deep breath and paused to consider the question.

What do I want for the future?

I want to help people, whether as the number one hero like All Might is, or as an underground hero that works from the shadows.

I want to make sure people aren’t hurt like I was for something they can’t control, I want people to feel safe and content.

Isn’t that basically just being a hero?

No, I suppose it’s more. I don’t have to be a hero to help people. But it would give me a platform that would let me help them more. I could do campaigns and I could make a lot of money, that I could give to charities. I could do a lot more to help people as a hero, beyond just being a hero.

I nodded, “I want to be a hero, so that I can help people, not just… not just as a hero, but also by making sure that people know and understand that hurting people isn’t right. I want to be someone that can help everyone, someone that people can look to and know if they need me I’ll come. I want to be available to anyone that might need help. I want to be able to help everyone.”

Nedzu smiled, “Well, that’s certainly a very large goal.” He placed his teacup down, “Now, let’s talk about how I can help you do that.”

## Aizawa POV ##

I eyed the problem child as he left the building, he was clearly thinking very hard. I fear what Nedzu is going to turn him into, one Nedzu is bad enough.

I shook my head. The poor kids don’t know what’s coming.

Hopefully Nedzu would keep the mischief away from his class at least… hopefully.

But now, I turned to head home myself. I have to finalize the training schedule for my students. They don’t really need the afterschool time, right? They’ll be fine.

“Aizawa!”

I bit back a groan, what now? Did All Might have nothing better to do than constantly follow me around and make sure I’m not “overdoing it”?

“How are you feeling?”

Like killing the number one hero.

“Fine.”

“Do you need a ride home?” He stared down at me, dumb tall hero, looking worried.

“No, I drove.”

“Do you need help grading? Oh, let me get that.” He hurried forward and opened the door for me.

Ugh.

“Here.” I shoved some papers into his hands, “These need to be graded by tomorrow, they’re from my communications class. Here’s the syllabus,” he shoved another paper into All Might’s hands, “I have to go.”

He turned and hurried as fast as he could with the bandages limiting him.

“Oh, well, Okay! Be safe Aizawa!”

Aizawa sighed.

Now then, he had some friends to call to help him train his kids. They need all the help they can get. Maybe Ingenium? He owed Aizawa a favor…

Maybe Aizawa could call Memory Bank? She was a good underground hero. And he knew she was on leave for another week.

He’d have to see what heroes would be willing to come in from the daylight heroes too, a lot of his kids were going into the daylight hero area. Best if they could get some advice from those heroes.

Hmm, he heard Gang Orca was going to some training events, maybe he could get him to come?

Well, he had some final phone calls to make but otherwise he had a good outline for his kids training schedule.

He wouldn’t let anything happen to them again.

He wouldn’t fail them again.

## Tomura POV ##

I studied the bedroom I set up.

There was a soft bed, lots of pillows and blankets, I even got them in *shudder* All Might colors.

That was the biggest concession I was willing to give.

The TV was set up with the gaming console, and of course a few hand-helds. There was a box with the games we bought, and a comfy sitting area in front of it.

The shelves were filled with empty notebooks and theory books and books on the history of quirks and heroes.

The desk had the new laptop, lots of pens and pencils, and plenty of light.

The room had some gear for underground heroes and a few of the more tolerable daylight heroes, plus some vigilante merch.

I hummed, did I get everything?

“Shigaraki Tomura, do you need anything else?”

I turned to Kurogiri, he’d done a lot of warping today to get everything back.

“No, I think I’m good.”

I should tell Sensei!

I hurried downstairs to do just that. Now Otouto’s room is all set up, he’ll be nice and comfy when we finally bring him home.

“Sensei I finished setting up his room. Can we go get him now?”

I stared at the screen, back to audio only.

“Patience Tomura, It’s only a few weeks till the Sports Festival. I need the data on his quirk to decide how to help him. And besides don’t you want to see how he does?”

I huffed, of course I want to see how Otouto does. But I’d rather him be here, safe and sound, away from those filthy heroes that were surrounding him.

“Yes Sensei…” I glared at the wall.

“Perhaps you could gather more data on the teachers at the school?”

I considered that, I knew the main one’s, like Eraserhead and Thirteen and All Might. The other’s didn’t seem so important. But then again… They had interfered with the attack.

I nodded, I’ll do that. I should know who’s influencing Otouto as well, if some of them are particularly bad I may have to get rid of them.

I grinned, yes, I should learn about them so I could be sure that they wouldn’t be an even worse influence on Otouto than them just being heroes makes them.

“Okay Sensei!”

I hurried off, I’d need some info from Giran, he has the best sources.

## Tokoyami’s POV ##

I settled into my seat, waiting for class to start.

Watching the other classmates was interesting, we were all still mourning Mineta.

Not me.

Except Dark Shadow.

We were all waiting for Aizawa-sensei, he had promised that we would finally get our schedules of doom today.

Maybe we’ll be able to play!

I sighed, we cannot play Dark Shadow, we need to get more powerful.

I’m plenty powerful if you’d let me have some fun.

I shook my head, we cannot bring harm to our classmates.

Ugh, so boring Fumi.

I turned my attention back to the class as Midoriya slipped into his seat. I did worry for him, him and Asui. The two of them had not been prepared for the banquet of darkness that losing Mineta brought upon them.

He seemed alright though, I was glad. He is a very bright presence, but not overwhelming, even Dark Shadow enjoys him.

Ooh, Midori is here. He’s muttering again! Get closer, I like hearing him talk about everyone’s weaknesses.

Okay so maybe Dark Shadow liked him for a different reason.

“Settle down,” called the muffled voice of Aizawa-sensei. I must’ve missed him coming in.

Aww, but Midori mutters…

Hush, you can listen to his thoughts later.

“All right, I have a few announcements for today.”

I listened attentively, this must be our schedules of doom!

“You all will be adding another hour onto your school day three days a week. On Monday, Thursday, and Saturday. So they don’t interfere with your active days.”

I considered that, I would need to be sure that it doesn’t interfere with my schedule, but I think it would be okay.

“If this does not work for you then you may come early instead, but you won’t be able to get as much work in, and it would be better if you could stay in the afternoon. I understand that you would be staying till five thirty then, but the extra work will be worth it.”

He studied us his gaze intent.

“What a mad banquet of darkness,” I muttered.

“I have called in some favors and some heroes have agreed to come some days and give advice. The heroes will only be coming in the afternoon though, so you will have to consider that if you don’t want to stay late.”

I nodded, that seems interesting. Assorted heroes would give us a better idea of what we would be doing and be able to teach us a lot of different things.

I wanna go, Fumi I wanna go!

Well, it did seem interesting. I suppose we would go.

“Aizawa-sensei!”

I turned to see Iida with his hand raised.

“Yes Iida?”

“Are we able to come to both morning and afternoon training?”

“You are, in fact I would prefer it. Regardless, any extra training you come to will count as extra credit for your Hero Combat Training class, and your Hero Fundamentals class. Some will also give extra credit for Rescue Theory or Combat Theory, depending on the hero that is helping out that day.”

That got a lot of excited murmuring.

I can appreciate that, it wouldn’t just be extra work, we’d get extra points too. I would definitely be trying to go to as many as possible then.

“Now then, the Sports Festival date has been confirmed. It will be three weeks from next Monday. While all of you voted to have the Festival, it is up to you individually if you want to participate. You need to decide a week before the Festival, so take the time to consider carefully.”

We’re definitely participating.

I smiled, yes, me and Dark Shadow would most certainly be participating. It would be very exciting.

“Are there any questions?”

His gaze swept over the class once, “No? Alright, you have the rest of homeroom to yourselves, do whatever.”

He promptly curled up in his sleeping bag.

Dark Shadow snickered, then perked up, Go over to Midori! He’s muttering! I want to hear weaknesses!

I sighed, Dark Shadow…

## Doctor POV ##

I finished adjusting the tank of my grandson, or the Nomu that was left of him.

It had been an interesting experiment and using him for it had helped me figure out how to adjust mutation quirks to work with the other quirks All for One gives them.

I hummed, moving on to the next tank.

I was still annoyed that they had lost the other Nomu. I spent awhile working on that one. It had the best regeneration yet! Though I was working on a few other’s that would hopefully have similar level, if not higher, regeneration.

I adjusted the concentration slightly before moving on again.

I’m extremely curious about how All for One’s son got a quirk so late. I hadn’t had a chance to read through the file the Shigaraki brat retrieved.

I’d have to do that soon. Late appearing quirks were rare, and it could be useful to study it and see what might have made it come in late.

But nooo, All for One wouldn’t let me so much as touch his precious son without supervision. He valued his son a lot it seemed.

It’s annoying, but it does mean that I have a fun project, so I suppose I can’t complain too much.

Speaking of, I moved to check on the special project.

It was a difficult one, to keep the integrity of the quirks in a different kind of form. I studied the project.

It was looking good, I should adjust the nutrients just to be safe.

The regeneration quirk had taken well, and the fire breathing quirk was settled perfectly now.

It still looked as it should, that’s the hardest thing to make work. He doesn’t want it to look like the other Nomu’s at all. He want’s a very specific form for it, while still insuring it’s able to accomplish its job.

Next up was the tracking quirk, I would be adding that in a few days I think. Let the empath quirk settle a little more. It was the newest after all.

“How is it coming doctor?”

I straightened, “All for One.” I nodded politely, “It’s coming well. It still holds it’s form well. I should be able to add the tracking quirk in a few days, and then it will likely need another week to settle. The intelligence quirk would be the next best one to add I believe.”

He nodded, stepping closer to the tank despite his inability to see.

“And you’re certain that it looks correct? Will it’s attitude be correct? Will it be able to pass as simply an animal with a quirk?”

“It should, I’m unable to test how it acts until we finish adding the quirks, I don’t want to take it out and risk destabilizing it.”

“Indeed.

All for One seemed to consider it for a moment.

“I may need it sooner than originally planned. The tracking and empath quirks are a necessity, but the other quirks I’ll need to decide about.”

“I think the gigantification quirk is a priority, and possibly the strength quirk.”

He hummed, “I agree with the gigantification quirk. How long will that to settle? That kind of quirk usually takes longer.”

I nodded, that was true, prioritizing it would delay the project by at least two weeks.

“Perhaps we add that as soon as the tracking and empath settle? Than move on any other quirks you think should be prioritized?”

He nodded, “I’ll decide which are most necessary. Inform me when the next quirk can be added.”

He left through one of Kurogiri’s portals.

I grinned, this project was so much fun. I would be sad to complete it but interested to see how it completes its job.

Ah well, time to get back to work. The Nomu’s wouldn’t make themselves.

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linebreaker · 6 years ago

Text

Birthmark

Also on AO3.

Warnings: light angst; brief mentions of past violence; mentions of past discorporation; discussions of historical anti-Semitism and violence against Jewish people.

=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=

Aziraphale first noticed the mark one morning when Crowley was puttering around the kitchen. The buttery sunlight was filtering through the herbs in the cottage window and fat bees were bumbling about outside, bumping against the glass in their search for flowers.

Crowley had just awoken from one of his week-long naps and stumbled out into the kitchen. Aziraphale regarded him over his reading glasses. He looked soft and sleep-worn, red hair flattened charmingly on one side. His yellow eyes were half-lidded and he was rubbing at one of them with his knuckles.

“Coffee?” he grunted.

“Afraid there’s nothing fresh, dear, but I can—” Crowley flapped his hands at him when Aziraphale went to snap his fingers.

“No, no, no. No. I can get it,” he muttered and then promptly banged his hip against the table corner as he made for the kettle. “Shit!”

Aziraphale huffed out a breath of laughter. “If you insist. That’s what you get for doing it the hard way.”

“It doesn’t taste the same when it’s miracled.”

Looking no more alert—but decidedly more aggravated—than he had before, Crowley went about preparing the kettle. Aziraphale’s morning paper was open in front of him, but it was mostly for show now. He enjoyed watching the demon do mundane things like cook and tend to his garden, so he took ample time to glance up and observe between each line he read.

—carry out services themselves rather than employ private firms, the chancellor has said. John McDonnell said he—

Crowley was still in his sleep clothes. He normally kept to his waistcoats and jackets and sinful trousers, but he’d been noticeably more lax in his apparel over the last few months of their retirement. Aziraphale didn’t mind.

—wants to limit the outsourcing of services such as bin collections by obliging councils to run them—

His loose-fitting pyjama bottoms were slung low on his hips. The long-sleeved grey shirt he wore looked soft, its collar wide enough to drape aside and expose a portion of the demon’s shoulder. Aziraphale let his eyes trace along his skin, forming constellations out of the freckles there.

—when existing private contracts expire. Cleaning and school dinners could also be taken back under the plans. The government—

Crowley was barefoot. As he filled the kettle, Aziraphale watched his toes curl against the tile. He rocked up onto the pads of his feet, exposing their delicate arches briefly, before settling again.

—said decisions should be left with local councils. The Confederation of British Industry said Labour’s proposal was “an extreme move devoid of evidence yet—

He managed to get the kettle on without further incident and turned to rest against the counter. With his back to the window, the morning light streamed in around like a halo, silhouetting him. Dust motes drifted lazily through the beams of sunlight.

—dripping in dogma.” In a speech on Saturday, Mr. McDonnell said outsourced contracts were costly and lacked accountability as decisions—

“What’re you looking at, angel?” Crowley asked when he glanced up again. The sunlight made it hard to see his face, but Aziraphale thought he sounded amused.

He smiled and, heart stuttering, answered, “You.”

Crowley froze momentarily. Aziraphale watched as his entire frame went rigid, his edges rippling like a mirage in the desert, before he relaxed again. He scoffed and grumbled something incomprehensible, then turned away again.

Something small and fragile unfurled in Aziraphale’s chest like a blooming flower. He smiled to himself and went back to his paper.

It wasn’t much longer before the kettle started whistling. Crowley moved to take it off the flame and go about preparing his coffee. It was while he was reaching to retrieve (see: steal) Aziraphale’s novelty angel mug off of the top shelf that his shirt rode up to reveal a band of skin. Aziraphale’s eyes were drawn briefly to the divots at the base of the demon’s spine, a little thrill running through him at the sight of them.

Then he noticed the mark.

It was a swath of skin—paler than that which surrounded it, a small swirl of white—that sat just above the jut of Crowley’s hip. Aziraphale squinted, but the shirt fell down and obscured it from view before he could get a decent look.

“Crowley, what is that?”

“Hm?” He was distracted adding heaps of instant coffee to his mug. Personally, Aziraphale detested the stuff, but Crowley was unaccountably attached. Probably because he’d had a hand in inventing it. “What’s what?”

“That mark—there, on your side.”

Crowley finished his preparations and took a sip, smacking his lips in satisfaction. Then he seemed to take in Aziraphale’s question. He paused, rim of the mug pressed against his mouth, and blinked his reptilian eyes at him. “Huh?”

Aziraphale scowled at him as he made his way over to the table—he had a feeling that the demon was being deliberately obtuse. “What is that mark? I don’t think I’ve seen that before.”

Crowley looked bemused as he took his seat across from Aziraphale, mug firmly clutched between his palms. “Never seen it before? You’ve seen me without my clothes on, angel.”

He lifted one eyebrow suggestively and Aziraphale felt his face go hot. Images flashed through his mind—Crowley beneath him, his sweat-slicked thighs up around Aziraphale’s hips, his body arching up like a bow and his slitted pupils blown wide as he came—and he quickly looked away.

“Yes, well.” He cleared his throat and focused on folding his paper for a moment. “I was rather preoccupied at the time.”

When he glanced up again, he noticed that Crowley was sporting a lopsided grin and there was a rather fetching shade of pink staining his cheeks. “Yeah?”

Aziraphale huffed and rolled his eyes. “You know perfectly well that I was, you wicked thing, so stop trying to distract me. What is that mark?” he asked again, pulling off his reading glasses and pointing them at the demon. He knew he sounded petulant, but he was terribly curious.

Crowley’s grin faded slowly, an ember burning out until it curled black and lifeless at the corner of his mouth. He shrugged and the wide neck of his shirt draped further down his shoulder. “That mark’s the reason I hate the 14th century.”

Aziraphale, whose gaze had been inextricably drawn to the gentle slope of demonic clavicle that was now on display, blinked and looked back up into his eyes. “What?”

“Well,” Crowley quickly amended, “it’s the main reason, anyway.”

“I thought you once told me that you hated the 14th century because of the Papal Schism?” Aziraphale asked.

“That was certainly part of it, yes,” he confirmed and took a sip of coffee. He looked more alert now. The soft, sleep-mussed air that hung around him after his naps was quickly dissipating. “As well as that Hundred Year War thing and The Plague.”

“As I recall, those were both terrible things that you took credit for,” Aziraphale reminded him with a quirked eyebrow. As much as Crowley seemed to despise the 14th century, it hadn’t been all fun-and-games for Aziraphale, either. Three simultaneous popes, millions dead, revolts and uprisings—it was all enough to make an angel crazy.

“Yes,” Crowley whined, slumping forward in his seat dramatically. “It was full of terrible things and I was terribly busy.”

“Oh, well, you poor dear.”

Crowley scoffed. “Angel, I get the distinct impression that your sympathy is not entirely genuine.”

“My sympathy for devils—you or otherwise—is limited, but I do genuinely adore you, so do with that as you will.”

“I shall,” Crowley said with an absurd waggle of his eyebrows. Aziraphale’s stomach swooped and he rolled his eyes with a fond tolerance.

“Crowley,” he said mildly and tried again. “The mark on your side?”

The demon’s bright yellow eyes regarded him over the top of his mug and, for the first time, Aziraphale could see weary resignation in them. It suddenly struck him how difficult Crowley was making this. A frisson of worry ran down his spine.

“Is—is there something you don’t want me to know? I mean, if so—” he hastened to say when Crowley’s mouth opened. “—that’s perfectly fine. We don’t have to tell each other everything. I just—Well, I just thought—”

“It was an exorcist.”

The rest of Aziraphale’s sentence died in his throat. He felt it whither and turn to dust, coating his tongue with bitter ash. He coughed and asked, “I, uh—beg pardon?”

“An exorcist gave me this mark,” Crowley repeated calmly and gestured towards his left side with a nod of his head. He’d put his mug down and was now focused on Aziraphale. “Back in 1349.”

Aziraphale’s mind began to race. 1349? Where did this happen? Italy? It must have been. Wasn’t I in Italy around that time? Why didn’t he call me for help? Unless—no, we still weren’t really considered acquaintances then, were we? Let alone friends. I don’t think The Arrangement was even in place for another few hundred years—

“Stop.”

The gentle command cut through his increasingly distressed train of thought and Aziraphale jerked in his seat. He sucked in a breath through his teeth and blinked up at Crowley. At some point, he had gotten up and come around to stand beside Aziraphale’s chair, half-sitting on the edge of the table.

“W-what?” he asked, thrown by the demon’s sudden proximity and still reeling from his confession. An exorcist. Why would—

“I said stop.”

Aziraphale blinked. Crowley crossed his arms with a beleaguered sigh and stared down at him. He’d pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and Aziraphale’s heart gave a squeeze at the dusting of light freckles he could see across his skin.

“I know your brain,” Crowley said. “I know it’s going hell for leather right now trying to figure everything out and I’m sure you’ve somehow managed to blame yourself.”

Aziraphale swallowed and looked away, his eyes lowering to study the wood grain of the table.

“Angel, we weren’t even friends back then,” Crowley said in exasperation, echoing his earlier thoughts. Aziraphale looked back up at him. “You thinking that you were in some way responsible for a run of bad luck I had nearly 700 years ago is just your—” He stammered briefly, jostling his shoulders like he was trying to knock the right words loose. “—angelic guilt or whatever.”

“You saved me more times than I can count and I couldn’t even—”

“I saved myself,” Crowley insisted.

Aziraphale swallowed around the lump in his throat. “You shouldn’t have had to,” he said softly, heart fluttering like a wounded bird within the cage of his ribs.

Crowley made one of his incoherent little noises and then turned away, casting his angular features into profile. The corner of his mouth was pulled down in a frown, jaw grinding back and forth. Aziraphale wanted to reach out to him—to press love in the shape of fingerprints into his warm skin. However, he didn’t think his touch would be well-received at the moment.

Instead, he asked, “Will you tell me about it?”

Crowley looked at him out of the corner of his eye, seeming to consider him. “I think it’ll just upset you,” he finally said.

“I’m afraid that ship has sailed, my dear,” Aziraphale told him. His throat squeezed around the words as he spoke them, rasping against them until they were little more than a whisper. “Please tell me.”

The sigh that passed Crowley’s lips was an ancient thing—something he’d been carrying around for nearly a millennium in his chest. He rolled his neck back and forth. Then he said, “It was in Basel.”

“Switzerland?” Aziraphale asked, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t Switzerland at the time, but the sentiment is the same. That’s where it happened. Y-you remember how, after The Black Plague, there were—well, um, there was a lot of hatred towards the Jewish community?”

Aziraphale nodded once, a grim set to his mouth. “I remember,” he said. “The pogroms.”

The Jewish Black Death massacres. They’d started up in 1348 as a result of the plague sweeping across Europe and had lasted for a few years. Christians killing Jews because they thought they were somehow responsible for the disease that had ravaged the continent—that they had invoked the wrath of God or were poisoning the well water. Ridiculous, Aziraphale thought viciously.

Crowley uncrossed his arms so that he could gesticulate while he spoke. “Right. It was a crazy time; everyone was dying and people wanted someone to blame.”

“They usually do,” Aziraphale said without humor. He reached across the table for Crowley’s abandoned coffee, brushing his arm against the demon’s hip. “Human nature.”

“There’s nothing natural about wanting to wipe out an entire race or religion.”

“I don’t disagree.” He took a tentative sip of the coffee and grimaced, quickly holding it out to Crowley. “That is terrible,” he coughed, smacking his lips to try ridding himself of the burnt flavor.

“You just don’t have my exquisite taste,” Crowley sighed, taking the mug out of his hand. His fingertips slid across Aziraphale’s knuckles and an involuntary shiver ran up the angel’s spine. “Anyway, that’s what I was doing in Basel. My people had sent me there a few days before the massacre—I didn’t want to be there and I didn’t have anything to do with the previous pogroms in Savoy or Erfurt or Toulon, really. I think they just assumed I had.”

Aziraphale believed him. Though Crowley had definitely softened during the course of their 6000 year acquaintance, he had never seemed the type to tempt people into mass-slaughter. He was more the inconvenience-people-into-sinning kind of demon. He’d said so himself that, many times, the humans basically took care of the big stuff themselves. No tempting needed.

“And Basel is where you met the, uh, exorcist?” Aziraphale asked.

“Mm-hm,” Crowley mumbled, staring down into his mug with pursed lips. “And, really, I use the term exorcist extremely loosely. He wasn’t what I would consider a professional by any means. I think he just got lucky.”

What Aziraphale wanted to say was that, if the man had truly been an amateur, maybe it was Crowley who had gotten lucky. He bit his tongue, though. Crowley’s posture was hunched, defensive—his shoulders curled forward and his back bowed. His eyes had a distant, vaguely haunted look to them. So Aziraphale swallowed down his anxiety and waited.

Eventually, Crowley blinked like he was coming out of a trance and looked over at him. His yellow irises were blown out, encompassing his eyes. “He got me the day after the riot. There was still ash in the air from, um—from where the townspeople had locked the adults up and set the building on fire. There were kids that the Christians were forcibly converting and I was—I had been drinking. I just, uh—” Crowley paused. Took a breath. “I just don’t like it when they get kids involved.”

“I know,” Aziraphale said, infinitely gentle.

“Anyway, I think my—my glasses slipped and he saw my eyes or—I dunno, he smelled sulphur on me or something—”

You don’t smell like sulphur, Aziraphale thought, but didn’t dare interrupt. You smell like frankincense.

“—but I p-passed out or he knocked me out and the next thing I remember is that I was strung up somewhere. It was dark and smelled like—like hay and shit. Probably a barn. He, uh . . .”

Crowley trailed off, looking away again. He was running his nails along the rim of his mug, filling the silence with a low, chittering resonance that set Aziraphale’s teeth on edge. He longed to reach out and lay his hands over Crowley’s—to still them and imbibe some comfort. He linked his fingers together on the tabletop instead.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked in an even tone, trying to sound as though he wasn’t crawling out of his skin.

Crowley’s eyes skittered back over to him. Tension was evident in the set of his jaw and the stark whiteness of his knuckles where he gripped his mug. “Do you want to hear about it?”

Aziraphale frowned, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. He’d been present at an exorcism before. Rome, around the turn of the 19th century. He’d stood back and observed as two Catholic priests attempted to drive the demon Leraje from the body of a young woman.

It had laughed and snarled threats, and Aziraphale had felt its opalescent eyes rake over him. Then Father Cancio had begun chanting his Latin phrases and Father D’Agostino had thrown blessed oils and holy water in its face. The demon’s skin had split and steamed, blisters forming over blisters as Leraje writhed and shrieked. Its dirty fingers had gouged marks into the arms of the chair it was tied to, blood pooling along its cuticles as the nails snapped off, its joints buckling. It bit off the woman’s tongue—spat it onto the floor at their feet—and blood had boiled in its mouth as it shouted obscenities at them.

It had lasted for hours. In the end, Leraje had been exorcised and the woman had died in the chair. Aziraphale could still smell the blood; could still hear her skin sizzling under the holy water.

Then he imagined Crowley in Leraje’s place and his stomach turned so violently that he nearly threw up.

“I never want to hear about you getting hurt, my dear,” he eventually whispered. “But I am here if you want to—”

Crowley waved a hand, cutting him off. “No, I, uh—I’d rather not discuss the details of that, if it’s all the same to you, angel.”

Aziraphale’s breath left him in a messy rush and he felt lightheaded with relief. He had asked Crowley to tell him. He would listen if the demon wanted to explain what had happened to him during his own exorcism attempt, but Aziraphale would rather peel his own skin off than have those images in his head.

“Of course,” he said, voice weak.

Crowley set his mug down on the table behind him, then folded his arms across his midsection, hands grasping loosely at his own elbows. “In any case, after—after everything, I managed to get loose and kill the silly bugger.”

Good, Aziraphale thought viciously.

“I was in pretty bad shape,” Crowley continued, staring blankly off into the middle distance. There was a fine sheen of sweat glistening at his temple and Aziraphale watched his throat move with a swallow. “I got out of Basel and only just managed to make it to the next town before I collapsed. The exorcist—he didn’t have any holy water, thank Somebody, but he did have this, uh, I dunno—a coin or a pendant. I didn’t get a good look at it. It must’ve been a holy relic or something, because it burned like a blessed sonofabitch; left welts all over that I couldn’t heal.”

Crowley reached down absentmindedly and touched his side where Aziraphale knew the mark to be. “This one was the worst. It got infected and I got a fever. I’m sure you can imagine what that looked like back in 1349.”

A lump of dread settled in the pit of Aziraphale’s stomach, poisonous apprehension seeping out into the rest of his body like lead into drinking water. “Like you had the plague.”

Crowley clicked his tongue and said cheerlessly, “Got it in one, angel.”

“What happened?” Aziraphale asked and Crowley sighed wearily.

“The fever wiped me out—put me into a coma, most likely. The townspeople thought I had died, so they buried me in a mass grave with other plague victims—”

“What?” Aziraphale gasped, horrified.

“—and I don’t remember much after that. I discorporated at some point; wound up back in Hell. After lots of paperwork and whatnot, I got back topside around 1378.”

“Y-you discorporated? How—how did I not know that? You, erm—” Aziraphale stopped. Drew a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to center himself. When he opened them again, he found Crowley’s gaze on him. The yellow of his irises had retreated back to their centers. “You don’t look any different,” he told the demon. “You got—what? A-a copy of your body?”

“Did I mention: lots of paperwork,” Crowley said and Aziraphale was relieved to hear humor in his voice.

“1378?” he asked, then sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Just in time for the Papal Schism, I see.”

“Three popes are three too many, angel.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he said lightly, letting a small smile pull at his mouth. Then he amended, “In this case.”

Crowley chuckled and the pressure seemed to ease off of his shoulders, the tension that had gathered around him like graveyard mist breaking apart and abating. The soft morning sun had transformed his hair into a coppery halo; it caressed his face, highlighting the delicate lines around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth.

Aziraphale watched him for a few moments, then asked hesitantly, “And, um—the mark was, uh, still there when you—when you came back?”

“Yeah,” Crowley said. “It was the only one. Everything else hadn’t left so much as a scar, but this one—it stayed. Dunno why. Maybe because it was the deepest wound or maybe because it was the one that eventually discorporated me. Or maybe Hell just left it there as a reminder when they remade my body.”

“A reminder?”

Crowley shrugged, the loose nonchalance he was trying to affect ruined by the way his eyes flitted away from Aziraphale’s face. “A reminder that I’m weak or—or maybe reliant on them?”

Aziraphale ached for him. His heart was a crushing weight in his chest. You aren’t weak, he thought.

He swallowed and lifted a hand towards Crowley, hovering just shy of touching him. “May I see?” he asked in a quiet voice.

There was a moment when he thought that Crowley would refuse; would push himself away from the table and disappear into the bedroom; would hole himself away and sleep for a hundred years. But then Crowley sighed, resigned. He reached down and lifted the edge of his shirt, pivoting slightly so that Aziraphale could view the back of his hip.

The mark was obvious, but Aziraphale let his eyes drag over the rest of Crowley’s golden skin before he examined it. He ran his gaze along the shallow dips between each rib, counted the lumps of his spine. Patches of freckles stood out like tiny galaxies.

“You’re beautiful,” he said absentmindedly. Then he blushed.

Crowley huffed out a laugh, relaxing. “Thank you, angel. You’re not so bad yourself.” Aziraphale looked up at him just in time to catch a cheeky wink. He rolled his eyes.

“You’re also ridiculous.”

“You like me.”

“I certainly do not,” Aziraphale said airily and his heart gave a little flutter when Crowley chuckled. With a smile, he returned to his perusal of the warm skin before him, finally letting himself look at the white mark on Crowley’s side.

It was smaller than Aziraphale had initially thought—no bigger than a two pence—and was almost perfectly round. He suspected that whatever had made the mark had been intricately decorated, but the curving lines it left behind were now blurred and he couldn’t make out any details.

“You didn’t try to miracle this away?” he asked.

“Oh, I did,” Crowley said, sounding resigned. “No good. It’s one scar that I can’t make go away.”

It doesn’t really look like a scar. More like a patch of vitiligo, he thought, reaching up unthinkingly to touch the mark. He laid his fingertips against its edge and Crowley hissed out a shocked breath.

Aziraphale jerked his hand back, distraught. “Oh, I’m sorry!” he stammered. “I-I didn’t—”

“You’re fine,” Crowley said, a slight tremble in his voice. His shirt was still pulled up, but he’d reached down to cover the mark with his own hand, rubbing at it. “Just startled me is all.”

Aziraphale watched him run his fingers along the skin, worry gnawing at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You can touch me, if you want.”

“Well, dear, I always want to touch you,” he said without thinking and with far more levity than he felt. Crowley lifted his eyebrows at him and Aziraphale huffed. “Oh, hush. You’re hardly scandalized.”

Crowley grinned. “Here,” he said with a little sigh and reached over to take ahold of Aziraphale’s hand. His grip was a loose circle around his wrist, fingertips stroking over his pulse point and sending frissons of pleasure up his arm. Crowley pulled and Aziraphale went willingly, his heart in his throat. He let the demon press his palm against the mark, his own fingers smoothing over the back of Aziraphale’s hand before he let go.

His skin was warm and pliant, and Aziraphale let himself enjoy having it beneath his fingers once again before he really focused on the mark. He ran a thumb along its edge. It was smooth, not raised like he expected a scar to be—more like a birthmark.

And then it struck Aziraphale. That’s exactly what it was: a birthmark. Crowley had been tortured, branded, killed, and then had carried the mark into his new body after his resurrection. A reminder of his failings.

Before he could think about what he was doing, Aziraphale leaned forward. He placed his lips over the mark, sucking a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the white skin. Above him, he heard Crowley hiss in a startled breath. Fingers wove through his hair, caressing his scalp.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley asked, sounding breathless.

He kept his mouth where it was. Using his tongue and teeth and lips, he pressed love and reassurance down into the skin, marking Crowley’s side. The demon’s ragged breaths filled the kitchen and his fingers dragged through Aziraphale’s curls when he pulled back to examine his handiwork. Where the white birthmark had once been, the skin now stood out red and blotchy.

“Did you just give me a hickey?” Crowley asked, sounding equal parts offended and impressed.

“Not really,” Aziraphale said and passed a thumb over the red mark. Angelic power tingled like a static charge as he miracled the erythema away and Crowley gave a little jolt.

“Hey! What did you do?” he huffed and craned his neck to take a look.

Then he froze.

Aziraphale watched him, his pulse thrumming like hummingbird wings in his throat as Crowley touched the skin where the mark had once been. In its place, a mass of dark freckles now stood.

An angel’s kiss.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Aziraphale told him, his voice reedy. “I just—I adore you. I worship every inch of you. And if there is a part of you that causes you pain—a mark that reminded you of an event so traumatic you would despise an entire millennium because of it—Well, if I could take that mark away . . .”

Crowley looked up at him, his eyes wide, but said nothing. Aziraphale swallowed down the worry that threatened to choke him and continued.

“You aren’t weak,” he told Crowley. “You are wily and resilient and you care so much. I know that you’re a demon and you don’t want to hear it, but I see so much good in you that naming everything I love would be like counting the stars. I can’t do it. You are made of starlight. I wish that I was half as strong as—”

He didn’t get to finish. Crowley swooped down and caught his mouth in a bruising kiss. Aziraphale gasped into it and reached up to catch ahold of Crowley’s shoulders, hanging on. The demon’s fingers traced over the tops of his ears and down along his jawline as he kissed him, eliciting tiny shivers from Aziraphale.

It lasted only for a few seconds before Crowley retreated, playfully nipping at Aziraphale’s bottom lip as he went, but the angel was left winded. Crowley smiled at him, looking beautifully rumpled, and said, “Thank you, angel.”

It sounded remarkably like I love you, too.

Aziraphale grinned back, relief and happiness pouring out of his bones like sunlight and warming the garden blooming in his chest. His heart pounded. “You’re quite welcome, my dear.”

They spent a few moments quietly regarding one another, Crowley absentmindedly touching his side through his shirt. Then he reached out to Aziraphale, laying a hand against his cheek.

“I,” he said in a gentle voice, drawing out the syllable as he swept a thumb across the skin just beneath Aziraphale’s eye, “am going to take a shower.”

Aziraphale blinked. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Been asleep for a week,” Crowley said by way of explanation. He dropped his hand and pushed himself away from the table. Aziraphale watched him go, eyes drawn to the sway of his hips, and tried not to feel disappointment that Crowley was walking away instead of kissing him.

He sighed and mumbled, “Well then, I suppose I’ll make some tea.”

“Or you could join me?”

Aziraphale looked over at Crowley. He was standing in the kitchen entrance, leaning heavily against the doorframe. There was a smile on his face, and he looked soft and vulnerable in his too-big shirt and bare feet. Then his eyelids fluttered and his smile morphed into a predatory grin, lips curling up to reveal his straight, white teeth. Arousal dropped into Aziraphale’s stomach like a lead weight; his breath shuddered out of his lungs.

“C’mon, angel,” Crowley said, his voice a deep rumble like the beginnings of a summer storm. “I’ll put marks all over your skin this time.”

Then he disappeared through the doorway, leaving Aziraphale gaping in his wake. The angel sat there for a moment, listening as Crowley moved about on the other side of the small cottage. The shower started up.

Aziraphale thought about Crowley’s naked skin; about steam curling up around his legs and hips and back; about water beading along freckles instead of white birthmarks. He smiled and stood.

The tea could wait.

=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=

Based on the prompt: “Why does Crowley hate the 14th century?” Requested by @needscaffeine. This took FOREVER, as I had to wrestle it to the ground and get it back on track several times.

#good omens #good omens fic #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #fic prompt #fic request #crowley #aziraphale #angst #light angst #fanfiction #fic #fanfic #oneshot #this turned out a longer than i thought it would #holy jeebus it's a monster

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hurtcomfortetc · 5 years ago

Photo

A fill for Setting a Broken Bone featuring Jim Kirk and Nyota Uhura!

Uhura had volunteered for this mission, but the poor newly-recruited science officer had not. It felt unfair that the young man had been plucked onto his first ever away party into an Enterprise-grade shit show.

Although, at the moment, Uhura wasn't even sure he'd made it down to the planet's surface. The moment that'd materialized, it was immediately apparent that they were in for trouble.

“Where the hell is Ensign Roberts?” Kirk's voice came from somewhere close to her.

To Uhura's eyes, she was on a flat, desolate landscape. It appeared to be made up mostly of packed brown dirt, oddly reminiscent of the quarries in Iowa where the Enterprise had docked when she'd met Kirk. The air was filled with glistening particles that looked like crystal dust particles. Uhura took in a cautious breath, expecting to choke on a breath of sand, but it felt smooth as butter.

She spun around, searching frantically. There was not a single, solitary figure on the horizon.

“Captain?” She said, trying desperately to keep her voice level.

“I'm right here-” Kirk replied. After what must have been a subtle shift in position, he appeared beside her like a mirage. She grabbed his upper arm like a life preserver. He took a look at her expression and pulled up his communicator with stormy eyes.

“Sorry, Captain, there was a glitch in the transporter and we delayed his arrival.”

“Good,” Kirk cut in, curtly. “No one else is coming down here until we figure out what's happening.”

“Sir, from our readings, you should be in the center of the civilization, as planned.”

“I know where we were supposed to be, what I need to know now is where we actually are.”

“We're on it. But, Captain, we're also detecting a frequency from the planet's surface that seems to be contributing to the misfire in location. We can't beam you and Lieutenant Uhura back until it's resolved or we risk-”

“Send Chekov to the transporter room. If he can't figure it out, then we're in trouble. Let me know once you have news. We're going to see if we can find anything on our end.”

“Understood.”

“Kirk out.”

Kirk took a long, surveying look at the planet's surface.

“Reminds me of that summer I got sent to work in the salt mines,” he said, smiling wryly.

“Is that some type of backwards Midwest expression for 'oh, shit'?” Uhura countered. She was only marginally steadied by his attempt to lighten the mood. There was something sinister about the desolate horizon, the 360 degree optical illusion of it, the silence.

“Ladies pick the direction,” Kirk offered. Uhura rolled her eyes, and pointed straight ahead, towards the descending orange sun. He nodded.

“Weird, that was exactly the direction I was thinking,” he said. He started walking forward, his steady steps portraying a nonchalance in the face of their surroundings that almost seemed natural.

Nyota followed her captain, but couldn't help staring out into the mysterious swirling horizon, trying to make a semblance of visual sense out of it.

They had just settled into a rhythm when Uhura heard a strangled yelp from Kirk, and then scraping sound followed by a low thud. She spun around, heart pounding.

By all appearances, she was alone.

“Captain!” She yelled.

“Down here!” Kirk's voice came, sounding both further away than she expected, and very near.

“Down where?” She called.

“Right in front of you,” he replied, voice strained. Uhura took a step forward, peering around and wondering if this was all an elaborate hoax.

“Wait, careful! You're right on the edge,” Kirk cautioned. Uhura inspected the surface in front of her carefully. It looked like a shiny, mineral covered pathway, not a cliff's edge in sight. Still, and possibly only because no one was there to witness it, Uhura lowered herself gingerly onto her butt and tentatively pushed herself forward, prodding the ground in front of herself with her feet.

Sure enough, just as she was about to be overwhelmed by the ridiculousness of her position, her foot dropped out. Uhura took in a sharp breath of air, horrified to see her foot seemingly disappear in the swirling mineral ground. Her stomach swooped, but she crept further forward until the illusion dissipated, and she spotted her captain lying on the ground about eight feet below. He was gripping his arm near his elbow and his face was milk white.

“There you are,” she breathed, still working to shake the ambient unease from the optical illusion.

“No shit,” he grit out. Uhura set her face against a grimace, deciding to allow the slip-up in light of the clear pain Kirk was in.

“How badly are you hurt?” She asked. Kirk looked dismally at his crooked arm, and then back up at her.

“I'm fine-”

Uhura shot him a warning look.

“-just this arm is for sure broken,” Kirk continued, wisely.

Uhura took out her comm.

“McCoy here.”

“Doctor McCoy, Captain Kirk just fell about eight feet off of a ledge. Other than a broken arm, he seems fine, but I don't know what to do.”

There was a heavy pause during which Uhura was sure she could hear McCoy pull his most lethal “disappointed but not surprised” face.

“Dammit, Jim. Are you with him?”

“Yes.”

“Dammit, Jim!” McCoy repeated. “Are you physically incapable of not -”

“Thanks for the concern, Bones. Can we skip the lecture and get some actual medical advice?”

“What type of fracture is it?”

Uhura peered down at Kirk's mangled limb, but couldn't manage to make decipher anything about it other than “gross.”

“I'm not a doctor, Bones.”

“Come on, Jim. You're practically an expert at broken bones.”

Kirk rolled his eyes.

“Fine. It's closed, probably displaced.”

McCoy sighed heavily on the other end of the line.

“Uhura, how much do you remember from your field medicine training?”

“Enough,” she replied, without hesitation. It wasn't exactly true, but Uhura figured she would be better than nothing in a pinch. God, she'd hated medical training...

“Good, you're going to have to set and stabilize it. You two need to be mobile on that godforsaken rock.”

Kirk's face managed to lose even more color, which Uhura hadn't thought was possible.

“Ugh.”

“I heard that. Sack up, Jim. This is what you get for being more danger prone than a fucking medieval princess. Now hang tight, I'm filling Spock in on the situation. McCoy out.”

For what it was worth, McCoy's ribbing seemed to restore some of the vitality to Kirk. He now looked more delicately pissed off than immediately corpse-like.

“Sorry about this, Lieutenant,” Kirk said. Uhura felt a flare of anxiety. She much preferred her Captain unrepentant, demanding.

“No need,” she stated.

There was a moment of heavy silence.

“So, you and Spock.” Kirk said, plainly.

Uhura started, and then briefly wondered if he'd hit his head, after all.

“What?” Her sharp tone made Kirk shift nervously, then attempt to stifle a wince when he jarred his broken arm.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, but forged on.

“Look, we have some free time here, and I would love a distraction.”

“It would be unprofessional to discuss my personal, romantic life -”

“Actually, this is a professional question.”

“What?” Uhura was just about to reach her maximum limit for surreal experiences for the day.

“I'm actually supposed to write a report on interpersonal relationships between crew men. In the event of a possible need for intervention.”

Uhura felt like she'd been clubbed over the head. Of course James T. Kirk would find a regulation to follow in order to gossip.

Kirk seemed to recognize her tacit assessment of his thought process.

“Look, I've been putting it off for a while now, since you guys have seemed fine. But I need something to write, officially,” he explained, and at least had the courtesy to seem genuinely apologetic.

Uhura might have told him to stick it where the sun don't shine, but the thin lines of pain around his eyes were a powerful incentive to speak.

“We're both entirely capable of working together. It ended amicably.”

“You're still friends.” He didn't phrase it as a question.

Uhura actually thought about it. Friends didn't fully encompass how she felt, but it wasn't incorrect. Not exactly.

“Yes.”

Kirk didn't miss her hesitation, but he looked away, unable to conjure a follow up question that might not provoke her more.

“We grew apart,” she found herself saying. At the same time, she realized that she hadn't really spoken to anyone about her relationship with Spock. Everyone on the Enterprise kept a careful distance from the topic, as he was her commanding officer. While no one had ever been rude or spoken against her, Uhura had convinced herself that she appreciated the privacy, the way that their feelings were so personal and covert.

For the first time, she wanted desperately to talk about it. It felt like a physical urge, like hunger or exhaustion.

“He was always bound by his duty, to his people and to the Enterprise. I wanted something else,” she said. Her skin was crawling with the bold honesty of the statement. She forced herself to look at Kirk, to regain some sense of casual calm.

Kirk's lips quirked up from some private sense of irony. Then he caught her shooting him a questioning look.

“Sorry, I just – I get it. Spock has an interesting set of priorities.”

Uhura wondered whether Kirk was marveling at Spock's undying need to put his job before his chance at meaningful relationships, or if he was relating to it.

“Is that enough for your report?” Uhura asked, wryly.

“I can paraphrase if I need to.” Kirk matched her tone.

Uhura opened her mouth to attempt to say something meaningful when her communicator signaled her.

“McCoy here. You guys ready for this?”

#star trek #hcetfic #badthingshappenbingo #bingo

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leavyes-a · 5 years ago

Text

meta on media consumption as beholding, and the creation of the conservator role, based on conversations with @hdtvtits. content warning, as always, for addiction, compulsive / obsessive behavior, aggressive hoarding, and implied terminal illness, all of the eldritch variety. also allusions to real-life hollywood dramas, though nothing remotely specific is discussed in this post.

foreword: this is just the first part of a bunch of meta i’ll likely end up posting on why levi is what they are and why their beholding manifests the way it does, because like... for secrets and the underbelly of film production i have a lot to say but a lot to source as well. but there are a few things i want to address in this post, namely: what the eye feeds off of, whether or not levi is feeding the eye in their media consumption ( and how ), and how it ultimately serves the eye’s purposes to have this be levi’s method of feeding. this probably won’t even be my last post on the subject as i keep sort of logicking out the way that beholding works and how it can manifest. it’s important to me though that it exist and function outside of just what happens in the institute ( which is proven in the statements ), mostly because fear entities are global and primal and jonny said that the story really is britain-centric. now, media consumption isn’t particularly groundbreaking; it addresses a more american culture, but that’s still western-centric and sort of ‘typical’ of europe and america, though i will say that european filmmaking as an institution is... different. it has its own history and quirks. hollywood is its own beast. someday i’ll make a post on levi’s judaism and how that interacts with beholding and manifests as more than their aesthetic, because they haven’t even used their ayin hara on this blog yet though it’s a ( minor ) power they possess, but that deserves its own post. ANYWAYS. with that said.

what does the eye feed off of? the eye doesn’t just function based off a primal fear, it has a drive that it imbues its servants with: “it is the manifestation of the fear of being watched, exposed, followed, of having secrets known, but also the drive to know and understand, even if your discoveries might destroy you.” i think that most of the entities function in a similar way, with the things they inspire and feed off of on the one hand, and avatars with a desire to evoke that fear in the other; i.e., avatars create food to feed their entity, and if they don’t, the entity devours them instead. that’s pretty basic knowledge. ( i also have stuff to say about entities consuming themselves because every time claire says autocannibalism i go absolutely hog wild about it but that’s for another day. ) there are, then, multiple ways that an avatar can go about gathering fear for its entity, but what sets the eye apart from others, i believe, is that it doesn’t need to directly cause the fear it consumes -- though i think that it finds the fear of being watched more filling than just watching other people be afraid, it can still ‘survive’ off of that. this is where eye shit starts to get confusing and it’s why these posts are so longwinded and involve me talking myself in circles, because the eye both has a specific fear that it’s linked to and can devour other people’s experiences of fear that it did not cause, yes even before the apocalypse. that’s just how jon feeds for the majority of the series. for a good long while, he’s not going out and getting statements himself; and even when he does, he’s double dipping on both the fear they convey to him about their experiences ( knowledge gained ) and the fear that this man is pulling information out of them ( secrets exposed ).

but that’s jon and we’re not talking about jon, we’re talking about levi, and my ever-evolving thesis on voyeurism in / and media.

so what does an eye avatar need to do, exactly, to eat? it needs to accumulate knowledge, that’s the baseline that it can survive off of -- knowledge of the other entities is best, but i don’t know that it’s a requirement... and i don’t know if it’s not! i am going to make the call that eye avatars can survive off of just hoarding information because the eye isn’t super picky and wants to know everything anyways, but not feeding off of fear for a long time is going to leave the avatar really weak. and for an eye avatar to develop its powers and grow, it needs to take statements directly, or else give other people the distinct feeling of being observed against their will. the more people it feeds off of as a result of its own actions, the more powerful it becomes. that said, i don’t think this is common, which is why watchers ( heads of institutes ) have set up these systems where they’re generating food for themselves on two axes simultaneously: fear of people who give statements, and fear of people who have to work at their institutes ( either taking statements or working directly under the eye ). that just sort of accumulates power upwards within eye bureaucracies, though the archivists who take and sort the statements are also going to become remarkably powerful if they lean into their role.

( also side note: these systems work for the english, american, and chinese institutes, but there are ways for beholding avatars to thrive outside of them, and again someday i’m going to post about oral traditions and the ability to craft stories in different regions of beholding that feed the eye. but i need to do research first and we’re talking about levi! )

here’s the thing... levi is not an archivist. levi is not powerful. levi does not have a strong connection to beholding. they worship it, but fanaticism does not equal feeding, sadly, and the role they’ve been given is not one that pushes them to go and gather statements for themselves. they have taken read and statements at afi, because wyatt was raising them into an avatar, but, though conservators and archivists can overlap in the real world, they ( in my word of god for this blog’s canon and the monster i made up ) are two very different things under the eye. essentially, conservators serve archivists ( and watchers ) by witnessing, recording, and playing back statements that archivists can then maneuver through. the more experienced the conservator, the more they can shift the camera, allowing the archivist to comb through statements in detail and pull the knowledge that they want from them. remember that the beholding grants knowledge, not understanding, and while that may be fine for the eye, sometimes its ‘human’ servants need to put the pieces together in order to advance its plans.

the conservator is a relatively new position within beholding, because it does function like a film camera. i think that, in other times, places, and cultures, there were similar avatars who filled a similar role, but it wasn’t the same. the conservator really is a miskatonic / american experiment to help the institute delve into the information it already possessed. for one example of how conservators are useful, consider what happened with sasha: the archivist had his voice recordings of her, because it can’t effect magnetic tape, but jon the person still had her wiped completely from his memory. that wouldn’t happen to a conservator, because all of their memories are converted into (meta)physical tape stock. they are a lockbox that cannot be opened or altered unless you’re a more powerful beholding avatar. ( the limitation here is that they only have so much storage space, they will need to expunge some memories to store more; though those memories can be kept in physical containers, film stock obviously degrades and is a very unstable and extremely flammable medium; their body will also internally decompose to make room for more data and that is a painful process that eventually renders the conservator just a storage without any ability to function beyond sitting still and replaying witnessed / read events. )

we’ve established that levi feeds normally. they take statements, they are present in an archive, they’re hearing the scary stories. finally, finally on to why levi consumes media and how levi consumes media, because the one is intrinsically linked to the other. let me start by saying that just watching television or films does not a beholding avatar make. yes you are watching, but the distinction is in whether you are passively or actively viewing. and the power that is drawn from someone zoning out and being addicted to passively consuming media does not go to the eye. that is neither a fear of being observed ( for the one watching or for the actors / writers, because nobody is going to care about an audience that doesn’t form an opinion at all beyond basic emotional reactions; uncritical consumers are milk and honey to them ) nor a pursuit of knowledge ( passively accepting knowledge is, according to elias, far less effective in raising up eye avatars than letting them learn to ‘see’ on their own ). all that power goes to mx media ( @hdtvtits ) or, if you don’t like crossovers, Just Definitely Not the Eye. it’s when you start performing analysis that the eye takes interest -- which is why the eye continues to thrive in academia ( au where i write meta on just how bad that gets, historically, but again there are things we don’t get into until we research thoroughly ). the more you lose yourself in compiling information, to the exclusion of everything else, the more you appeal to beholding. and when you start unveiling secrets, which there are plenty of in film and film production, things kept private from the audience, ‘movie magic’, then feeding can begin.

this may come as a surprise, but levi does not have a response to whether or not they ‘like’ movies. if you ask them, ‘did you enjoy that movie?’ they will not say ‘yes’ or ‘no’, they will just start launching into ripping it apart. levi probably started out enjoying movies recreationally, but at some point, they became not just unwilling to but incapable of watching films without analyzing -- and what separates this from normal people who are conscientious and engaged viewers is that this is a mania that spans hours. their ‘digestion’ of a film is obsessive and has a physical component because it is eldritch in nature. i can’t stress enough that levi isn’t just a pretentious film buff who says ‘oh i can’t consume media for pleasure or uncritically’, though they may have been at some point in their college career! they have a physical and metaphysical makeup that drives them to frenzy over what they watch. the instant they finish a film, they’ll begin a rapid accumulation of knowledge of anything they can dig up: the who, what, when, where, why, how. if they do have an emotional response, it’s incredibly removed, and their way of processing it is to drill into how and why the film made them feel that way.

if they try to avoid this step in the process -- if they just watch a movie, turn it off, and attempt to go to bed -- they will start to weaken immediately. watching the movie isn’t enough for feeding. if it was, the eye wouldn’t take any interest at all. it’s the genuinely out-of-control driving impulse to keep researching and researching until there is nothing left about a piece of media that isn’t known, shredding through academic papers and script drafts and director’s notes and interviews and everything they can get their hands on, that stems from and feeds beholding. they do not settle for what is put on the screen. they will even cold call creators in a fit and try to get them to talk about the production ( which is, yes, invasive -- beholding is an eldritch entity, it is not healthy or good and does not inspire healthy or good habits! ).

they may not even be capable of enjoying a piece on its own merits; it’s all about the world it opens up to them, it’s about stuffing themselves with information until they can’t breathe and overstimulate and pass out. then recovery from that can take days as they process what they learned and sort it all out in their mind. they don’t really do much with this information; just knowing it is enough. if an archivist or watcher wants to take action about it, they can ask levi to spit it back up for them. but ultimately, despite the impact that this has on their health, this is still low-level feeding for a low-level avatar. unless it’s a truly gruesome movie or has an exceptionally shady production background, it’s not really the fear that the eye is looking for. levi is feeding one half of beholding, the half that wants them to consume knowledge and secrets. if levi didn’t take / read statements as well, or go out and witness live horrific events, they would probably starve -- their body would eat itself processing knowledge.

and i will talk about the component of parasocial relationships, anxiety that stems from being an actor / director / content creator in general and having your work and your image spiral out of control as it’s ripped apart and dissected by consumers, because that is beholding territory as well. it’s just not actually what levi does, but because it relates to the media-beholding relationship, i’ll have it on this blog.

#➢ photoplay expresses the action of the mind! ( headcanon. )

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thorscock-y · 7 years ago

Text

Out of character (NSFW)

Request: Can you do one Steve and the reader (his girlfriend) are not that experienced but she always saw things about being blindfolded and always wanna to try? And she's a little shy while asking to Steve? She talks about being blindfolded and tie up? But Steve totally get on board and teases her every time by not letting her come (we all know Steve would do that), and goes completely slowly and is all about pleasing her? Smut one

Warnings: Smut, Dom Steve, Bondage kink, Captain Kink, Just a teeny tiny little spanking, oral, female receiving, fingering, Steve being a freaking tease, NSFW IMAGES, 18+

Author’s Note: I’m sorry if this is bad, this was slightly rushed. My requests are currently over flowed and I just want to share that after going out and watching infinity war for like the fifth time to get inspiration I got pretty excited to write this.

Disclaimer: No gifs belong to me, rightful credit to owners :)

Masterlist

“Y/N, stop getting excited over there. It’s weird.” Natasha said.

She had noticed the way you were squeezing your thighs together every sex scene of the movie and biting your lip while paying extra attention. Not only did she notice but so did Wanda. She laughed at Natasha’s comment while looking at you.

“I am not getting excited.” You scoff, attempting to lie. “What are you talking about?”

You, Natasha and Wanda were having a fun girl’s movie night with ice cream, candy, and a lot of movies. Movies that consisted of hot guys with their shirts off. Right now Fifty Shades of Grey was on and you were getting slightly turned on at the sex scenes.

“Yeah, okay then let your legs separate and breathe.” She said in a challenging manner.

“No, I’m cold.” You lied and grabbed the blanket off the bed, throwing it over your body.

“Cold or horny?” Wanda asked with a raise of her eyebrows.

You widened your eyes then playfully threw a pillow at her which she stopped with her power and threw right back at you.

“For the love of Jesus, I am not horny.” You tried once again to fool them but they both knew it was a lie.

“You know I can read minds right?” She asked you, cocking her head to the side.

Oh shit, you had been caught and your cheeks flamed slightly.

“You know it’s okay to want to try a little fifty shades of grey action with Steve? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Natasha said.

“Are you kidding me? Are we thinking about the same Steve Rogers? Captain America? Tall guy with blonde hair, beautiful blue eyes?” Sarcasm was evident in your voice though you couldn’t help it. It was just apart of your personality.

“Okay look all I’m saying is it wouldn’t be a bad idea to speak up and present the idea to him.”

“How do you even know I’m interested in that kind of stuff? Okay, I may just be thinking about it right now and forget all about it later.” Another lie.

“Lies, I’ve been seeing the articles you’ve been reading about being blindfolded with your partner. And also being tied up.” Natasha chuckles digging in her ice cream with her spoon. “Yeah, stop leaving your laptop open on the dining room table so the whole tower can see your sexual interests.”

“Not to mention the receipt you dropped last night.” Wanda added, giving you a mischievous grin.

A confusing look spreads across your face. “What receipt?”

“You purchased a blindfold and bondage rope.” As soon as the words leave her mouth, the two of your best friends began to laugh horrendously while you sit there, bewildered that you had made such a little mistake as to dropping a receipt.

“Did anyone else see it or find it?” You ask in panic.

“Well only me, but Vision knows but that’s only because I tell him everything.” Wanda replies.

“Vision knows?! Oh my gosh, he probably thinks I’m some kind of sex freak.”

“Who cares what other people think, Y/N? If you want to do that with Steve, then go for it.” Natasha says, urging you on.

“Well the thing is we’re not experienced guys, I mean neither one of us have much sex with other people. I know he and Sharon had a little thing going on before him and I began to date and I maybe have dealt with one other guy? And the sex wasn’t even amazing so I’m just not sure about trying something like this when I’m not experienced.”

It was true. And because the two of you had very limited knowledge of how sex really went it was very gentle, full of passion and love and yes it felt good. But that’s how every sex session went and after a while it got pretty plain. You hated to think that way about Steve because you loved him so much but you couldn’t help it. You wanted more so when you were reading through a catalog and found a little passage of how to spice things up in the bedroom, one certain kink caught your attention. You couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“Hell, do you think Bruce and I were experienced? No, and we still do it when we roleplay.” Natasha says, casually popping a sour patch in her mouth while looking at the TV.

“Wait, Bruce blindfolds you and ties you up and-“

“Yep,” She nods, smirking to herself. “Almost every now and then we like to try something different but that was one of our first trial runs and let me tell you sister.” She turns towards you and holds up three fingers. “Three words. Mind. Blowing. Orgasm.”

Wanda covers her ears, shaking her head.

“Okay, I think I’ve heard enough.” She says, her cheeks forming a little red.

Ignoring Wanda you become interested in Natasha’s topic. You’re also surprised Bruce would do something like that, you honestly saw him as more of a vanilla guy like Steve. The inner hulk must come out and turn him into a huge freak in the sheets.

“Would you be willing to tell me how it goes?” You ask shyly. It’s uncommon of you to share your sexual desires with anyone other than yourself because no one even suspected Steve and you had sex. Everyone saw you as an innocent flower and everyone saw Steve as a church boy.

“Wanda, you might want to exit the room for the night.” Natasha said but kept her eyes on you, preparing herself for this outlandish conversation.

“Alright and that is my cue,” Wanda stood up, grabbing her pint of ice cream. Before leaving she leaned over, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Be safe if you decide to go through with your plan, Y/N.”

“You know I always am, love ya.”

“Love ya too.”

After Wanda is gone, you turn to Natasha, the both of you have that same knowing look of what’s about to go down.

To put it long story short, Natasha booked a small cute condo for you and Steve so your first time experiencing this could be more private and you could be as loud as you wanted. Because God knows the whole team would be on your ass about your loud moaning. To be honest you weren’t so sure about this plan, you were actually on the verge of calling it quits.

You were just soooo nervous and shy to ask of such a thing from Steve. Mostly your biggest fear is that he would reject you and maybe even leave you, thinking you were weird. Natasha ordered you not to think that way but how could you not? Steve never gave off that type of vibe that he was a dominant man in the bedroom whatsoever. Just hope for the best, the worst he can do is say no.

The next night you were dressed in a large black coat with nothing but some black lace panties underneath. Natasha had instructed you that that was the best way to do it so you decided why the heck not. Packed away in a suitcase under the bed was a whole pajama outfit, just in case he turned you down you wouldn’t have to stick around in just panties.

You sat on the bed, heart beating like crazy, nerves going like crazy as well. Your phone rang and you picked it up, putting it to your ear.

“Hello?” You said.

“He’s on his way. He just left the tower. You all dressed and ready?” Natasha asked.

The plan was for Natasha to tell Steve that you wanted to get away from the tower for a little bit so you were staying in a condo and wanted him to come along with. He had just come home from a mission so of course he would come and see you, he always missed you after missions.

“Umm, yeah. I’m ready. Nat I don’t think I can do this, maybe we should just forget this whole thing.” You say, chewing on your bottom lip nervously.

“Y/N, everything is going to be fine. Just calm down okay, I can practically feel your anxiety through the phone.”

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna have an anxiety attack, I can’t stop shaking.”

“Listen to me. If there is one thing I know about Steve Rogers it’s that he is incurably in love with you. When he was with Sharon he never even talked about her half as much as he’s talked about you, scratch that he barely even talked about her unless she was brought up. With you, you’re always the topic of discussion and even Wanda says you’re always on his mind so what I’m trying to say is even if he does say no, which he won’t,” You giggled. “He will still be your loving boyfriend that adores you and loves you so stop putting too much thought into it.”

Natasha honestly knew how to lighten things, and this is the exact reason why you love her so much and she’s your best friend.

“Thanks Nat, I really needed that. “ Your spirits were lifted by just a bit.

“Of course, now get up, stop being nauseous and have fun tonight. I expect a text by the end of night saying “it happened”

“Alright, we’ll see. But I gotta go, love you bitch.”

“Love you too bitch.”

And with that you hung up the phone then put it on the bedside table. The condo is a ten minute drive from the tower so he would most likely be here pretty soon. To calm yourself down you take deep breaths and then breathe out. It’s not really doing much but it’s helping just a little.

About seven minutes later you hear the front door of the condo open making your heart leap in your chest.

“Y/N, honey?” His sweet voice rings all through the condo. Okay good, he’s in a good mood.

“In here.” You say, your voice cracking a bit. Right now you’re nervous more than ever because it’s happening now and there’s no going back afterwards.

You hear his footsteps striding over into the bedroom and then he appears. Fuck he looks hot. A white tight shirt that’s hugging his bulging muscles and khakis to wear as pants. He makes khakis look so good, he actually made anything look good. His hotness was so distracting.

“Hey doll,” He says smiling sweetly at you. He leans down and pecks your forehead then plops down on the bed, sitting right beside you. “Are you cold? Why do you have that coat on?”

Heart still palpitating, you stand up in front of him. Gathering all your courage you decide that this is it. As badly as you want to wiss out, you don’t knowing you also want this man to dominate you more than anything.

“Um, well, that’s kind of why I invited you here tonight.” That shy feeling crept over you and you couldn’t help but look down at the ground, avoiding his eyes. “I wanted to try something new tonight. L-Like where you maybe blindfold me and tie me up, and j-just do anything you want to me.”

Finally you felt the boldness to glance up at him to see he has an enigmatic look on his face. You look back down, fumbling with your nails.

“I understand if you don’t want to and-“

“I can do anything I want to you?” His question causes you to snap your head up and look at him, this time he’s smirking while biting his lip. The shy feeling slowly slips away and is replaced with excitement.

“Yes.” You reply, your voice soft and shallow.

He stands up, his body towering over yours. He looks down at you, a hard look now on his face.

“Anything?”

You nod, looking into his eyes. You trusted Steve not to do anything you couldn’t handle or didn’t like so you were giving him full control. He came closer to you so now there was no space between the two of you. Slowly he slid his hand down the curve of your waist, the other hand on the other side and then he gripped your body towards his with such force. That was so unlike him.

Before you could react to it, he leaned down, his lips colliding with yours. This kiss was so different from the other ones you usually have. This was rough and hard. Needless to say you liked it and were enjoying yourself. You wrapped your hands around his neck, causing the kiss to go deeper but as soon as you do that he pulls away. He looks into your eyes before untying the ties of your coat and letting it fall down on the floor so now you’re bare naked in front of you soldier boyfriend who is turned on even more to see you in nothing but panties.

Your nipples perk up in response to the cold feeling.

Steve leans back down, kissing you once again. His hands move to your ass, gripping it with need. He pulls away from the kiss then moves over to your ear.

“Did my naughty kinky girl, provide a blindfold and bondage for this occasion?” He asks his voice deeper than usual.

You’re still in shock at his new behavior so when you don’t respond right away, his hand comes up then comes back down against your ass giving it a hard smack. You yelp in surprise but answer.

“In the gore of the bedside desk.” You say quickly.

“Good, now I would like you to lie down on the bed. Can you do that for Captain?” He comes back in front of your face so he can see you.

“Yes, Captain.” You respond, knowing that that is what he would like to be called.

“Now do it.” He demands.

You walk around him then go and lie, back down on the bed while he goes to the gore that you said the items were in. He gets them out then decides he’ll blindfold you first. You lie there, staring up at the ceiling, afraid to look at him after his tone of voice earlier. You were more turned on than scared to be honest. It drove you crazy how dominant he was being with you and the best part hadn’t even begun.

Steve crawled in between your legs, blindfold in his hand. He looks down at you darkly before placing the blindfold over your eyes and tying it to the back of your head as well but not too tight. He didn’t want to hurt you. He grabbed the bondage ropes and took your arms, placing them over your head. He tied your wrists to the headboard, once again making sure that it wasn’t too tight but just tight enough so that you wouldn’t be able to break free.

He stood back up, admiring his work and admiring how beautiful your body looked, all laid out and ready for him. You didn’t know what was going on or what he was doing for it was pitch black and you couldn’t see anything. Nothing at all. It just made the moment even more exciting.

“I’ll be right back.” He said and then you hear his footsteps walking away out of the bedroom.

Where was he going? You wondered. Your body was ready, heat flooding your face, stomach, and especially between your legs but he had walked out? Did you do something wrong? You wondered. You decide to let the anxiety pass through you and trust that Steve knows what he’s doing.

Five minutes later, you’re still lying there and as you’re about to call out his name, you suddenly feel the warm touch of something sliding up your thigh. Your body jumps at the sudden touch of Steve’s tongue gliding up your thigh, slowly. How had he came back and you hadn’t even heard him? He was very quiet, you guess.

He plants soft like kisses all the way up your stomach, licking over your navel causing your hips to jerk up in response. He moves his kisses painfully back down to your already soaked clothed folds and licks over your panties before capturing it into a kiss. Your breath hitches in your throat as your body is now in flames.

Instead of continuing to eat you out he decides to tease you. He firmly kisses your clothed clit and you wish he would just take off your panties so you can feel his mouth. But you said he could do anything he wanted so you stick to your words.

You then don’t feel his lips at all and instead you feel the bed lowering beneath you as he’s crawling in between your legs. Lowering his head, he moves his mouth close to your breasts so you can feel the heat of his hot breath against you causing your nipples to harden in response. He teases your nipple with the tip of his tongue then sucks it into his mouth, earning a soft moan from you.

Pulling away, he looks up at you briefly before going to the other nipple, teasing it just the same then sucking it into his mouth, this time a bit more rough.

He grips your breasts, one in each hand before ravishing them, every now and then nipping with his teeth making you jump and gasp. When he sees you can no longer take it, he kisses up your neck, sucking at your pulse point where he knows is one of your weakest points.

After making a few hickey’s to show you are his, he moves his face in front of yours. He kisses your cheek then licks the side of your face right next to your mouth then kisses you roughly.

Without hesitation you kiss him back, craving his lips against yours, swallowing your moans and biting on your lip.

“You like that don’t you, huh?” He asked then didn’t let you reply as he yet again pulled you into another hard kiss. “You like it rough?” He says against your lips.

“Yes, Cap-“ You’re interrupted by the feeling of his fingers on your pussy, rubbing you making you moan against his mouth.

He looks down at you, loving how beautiful you look beneath him. Even if he can’t fully see your face , hearing you is enough.

“Damn doll, already soaked through your panties and I’ve barely started.” He kisses you hungrily one more time before pulling away. He stands up next to the bed. “We’re going to play a little game, okay? No coming until I allow it, do you understand?”

“Yes.” You say with a nod.

You feel Steve grab your breasts rather harshly and you jump in surprise.

“Yes what?”

“Yes Captain.” You quickly correct yourself.

“Mmm, good girl.” He rubs his thumb over your nipple then leans down kissing your neck for a few seconds before moving away from you completely leaving you wanting more.

You hear the movement of something, not sure of what it is but it left you impatient. Once you hear the zipper of his pants, you know he’s taking his clothes off and that’s gets you excited to feel your strong soldier above you. But then you remember your hands are tied above you so you won’t be able to touch him.

Out of nowhere you feel him kissing along your inner thighs, placing a kiss everywhere, except where you needed him the most. He was such a tease and he enjoyed watching you squirm in anticipation, tugging on the ropes uselessly.

Finally after a little bit of teasing, he grabbed the hem of your panties then pulled them off, throwing them somewhere in the room.

And just like an animal leaping towards its prey, Steve’s mouth went straight to your pussy, greedily licking in between your labia. Clenching your fists against the rope, you moan loudly. He licks along your mound before he nibbles on your pussy lips, testing the waters to see if you like it. Steve isn’t one to eat you out much, like you said it’s just basic sex.

So you’re surprised that he’s so well at this certain task. It feels so fucking good. He licks his tongue over your clit causing your back to arch. He quickly puts his arm over your waist to hold you down then continues on eating you out as if you’re his last meal on earth. Wanting to take special care of your entrance he darts his tongue inside of you, glancing up at you to see your head thrown back, moaning breathlessly. Just the reaction he wanted.

And as soon as you feel the ting in your stomach, preparing you to come he stops eating you.

“What the-“

Your words are stopped. His index finger slowly slides into your slick pussy and it’s a second later when another finger joins in. He pumps them slowly inside of you, purposely to tease you.

He licks over your clit before stopping immediately causing you to whine. He was teasing the fuck out of you and it had you sexually frustrated as hell. He pumps his fingers inside of you and out of you, keeping the slow pace up, every now and then he’d speed up causing your orgasm to arrive but then he’d stop just as soon as you were about to come. It was the most painful pleasure you’d ever experienced.

Soon enough you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Captain, please let me come. Please.” You begged, sounding so desperate but you were too in the moment to care.

Steve almost fucked you right there because you sounded so beautiful begging but he fought off the urge knowing it would be better to tease you first.

“Not until I say.” He attached his mouth back to your clit, licking figure eights while his two digits sped up and by this rate you were for sure to come. If he pulled away, you’d lose your mind. “Come for me, princess.” He spoke darkly and then watched as you released yourself all over your fingers and he couldn’t help himself as he leaned down and lapped up all your juices, drinking down every drop making your high more enjoyable for you.

“Good girl.” He murmurs placing one more kiss on your heat. You smile to yourself. You liked being his good girl. “But we’re not done yet, darling.”

You hear movement of the bed and wonder what he could possibly be doing now. You feel his hands on your legs, spreading them apart and you know he’s going to fuck you.

“Same rules apply, don’t come until allowed to. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Captain.”

He rubs his cock over your soaking folds then over your slit, coating his shaft with your wetness. You moan at the contact and roll your hips over his cock, eager to have him inside of you.

“Did I say you could move?”

Like a good girl, you stop your movements and lay there even though you’re dying for him.

He chuckles and under the blindfold you roll your eyes.

He’s such a fucking tease, you think to yourself.

He flicks his cock over your clit and your breath hitches. He wasn’t gonna fuck you that easy without an agonizing amount of teasing.

For a moment he doesn’t do anything. He does this on purpose to keep you thinking of what’s gonna happen next. And all you’re thinking is this is the most impatient you’ve ever been in your life yet it felt so exciting not knowing what was going to happen next.

Without any warning Steve thrusts into you, roughly, stretching you and filling you to your fullest. No matter how many times you and Steve had sex, you were never used to his huge cock. The serum definitely made him gifted under the belt. Moaning out, your mouth fell open as he didn’t give you time to adjust and just kept fucking you.

“You like that doll? Like my cock buried inside of you?” He asked and smirked at how you moaned “captain” in contentment. You loved his out of character words, it was a major turn on.

One hand gripped your waist while the other wrapped around your throat applying pressure, his thrusts continuing on. You honestly weren’t sure you would be able to hold on for much longer, first off because you had never been fucked so thoroughly and hard by anyone so your orgasm was arriving faster than you had expected. You felt his breath close to your lips and felt him lean down, sucking on your bottom lip.

When Steve felt the clench of your walls around him, he pulled out of you to once again tease you. You whimpered at the loss of contact and wanted to scream. Months of thinking about this and the lust that it had created was pushing through making it harder for you to keep calm.

With quick hands he loosens the rope on your wrists then flips you over and lifts your ass into the air. Whoa, that was so unexpected. You’ve never done this position before, another new thing you’re trying tonight.

“Ready sweetheart?” He asks, placing a sweet soft kiss on your ass.

“Yes.” You reply panting and as soon as the words leave your mouth, he enters you once again, you now perfectly stretching around his length. Both of you moan in unison at the intrusion then his hips snap into yours in a fast rhythm as he plows into you.

His grip on your hips is surely to cause bruises but you don’t mind. It will be a reminder that this is real and Steve actually did all these amazing things to you. A sinful grin spreads across his face as he watches your beautiful ass bounce on his dick, each thrust a moan leaves your parted lips.

Having not achieved your previous orgasm you can feel that build up radiating from your belly button down to your clit, your walls grabbing ahold of Steve’s cock, getting ready to let go.

“Fuck, you feel so good around me, babydoll.” He groans lowly. “But you may not come yet.”

You really weren’t sure if you could hold off until he said you could come. Almost every nerve in your body was aroused to the point where it was painful for you not to come. Yet once again the pain felt good and excited you. Natasha wasn’t lying when she said the thrill of this was so much fun.

“Oh, gosh, Cap, please!” You cry out as he rubs over your g-spot, perfectly hitting it.

“Please what, Y/N?” he asks, tauntingly knowing how badly you want to come. Watching you beg turns him on.

“Please, let me come captain!” You whine.

With a smack of your ass he says darkly. “Come Y/N.”

You don’t have to be told twice as you let your orgasm go and a feeling of electricity hums throughout all of your body. Somehow having to hold it, made it more mind blowing than any other you have ever had. Minutes passed and Steve hadn’t stopped which sent you into waves of pleasure as you were having multiple orgasms. Once again another thing that had never happened before in the bedroom with the two of you.

Somewhere along the time you were coming, Steve found his own release and growled deeply as he pulled out and came all over your back, stroking his cock and moaning. The obscene sound of his masculine moans could make you come but you knew you had no more left in you. For once you were full of complete contentment and were pleased with the sex session you just had.

Still panting and breathless, Steve flips you over on your back then removes the blindfold from your eyes. Your eyes flutter open, trying to adjust to the light. Once you’re used to it, you see Steve in front of you, looking down at you with that knowing grin. The grin he usually has after just completing a mission.

“Hi, doll.” He says, then rubs his hand over your cheek lovingly.

Blushing you say, “Hi, Captain.”

He chuckles, adoring how you’re still calling him by his title. After a hot shower together you’re cuddling and talking about how much fun that was. As you’re about to fall asleep, you then remember Natasha. Grinning ear to ear, you grab your phone from the bedside table then text Natasha “It happened and it is SO happening again.”

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bluepluto03 · 6 years ago

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this is just the first 1/2 of the next bruised apple chap cus it aint finished yet.... don’t really need a specific tw if you’ve read the rest of the fic but if you havent check the tws on ao3 pls

-=+=-

Evie flipped through a potion book, one of the few she’d decided to take with her from the Isle. She’d been doing so for the better half of an hour, having skipped out on her lunch knowing none of her friends shared it with her today. Again.

The book was somewhat old, pages worn soft from use, and handmade, containing the most useful spells she’d found in all her mother’s old potion books, copied over onto paper remade from the destroyed scraps brought over on the trash barges.

(Carlos had learned to make these sorts of almost-notebooks ages ago. They’d take old books, too wet and moldy to be read, and tear out their pages into a vat with any other scraps of paper they could find. They’d remove any sort of mold or residue, then boil the mixture into a watery-paper mush. From there, they only had to bleach it and then spread and dry it into greyish white, thick parchment. Then bind the parchment into the shelled books and, voila! They hefted a pretty price on the market, too, clean paper surprisingly rare, and useful, on the Isle.)

It was one of her two ‘main’ potion books she kept. Mal had a similar book, refined over the years, though it contained mostly spells while Evie’s held more potions than incantations.

But while Mal had only her one book, Evie preferred to keep two separate ones. Both had choice spells and recipes she’d chosen from her mother’s books, but there was a distinct difference between the two. One was filled with spells they could actually complete on the Isle, and one contained potions she’d never hoped of being able to create with their limited resources.

The second she’d also brought with her, but she’d yet to open it since arriving here. Even if she should be able to actually use the spells now it felt... wrong in a way. She’d only ever opened her second book to copy down potions she was sure she’d never make, it was almost more a graveyard of ideas than a source of information.

Because of that, she continued to flip through her first book, and left the second hidden away.

She’d been thinking about magic a lot lately. How the people here treated it, how Mal’s eyes lit up when she discussed it with Jane, how Carlos and Jay stiffened at it’s mention.

(She of course hadn’t forgotten about Carlos’s magic, but she encouraged others to give him space, and the matter had been tabled for now. She knew he’d come to them with it, eventually.)

Something she’d been thinking about was how her magic was so different from the others’s. It was much more passive, like a jacket instead of a second skin

That didn’t make it any less hers, of course, it just made it… different. It was a tool. It didn’t run rampant with her emotions like Jay’s did, didn’t bend unconsciously to her every whim like Mal’s. She didn’t know what Carlos's magic was like, but the way he’d acted when Mal called him out on having it, she’d bet it was emotional in some way as well.

So, if her magic was a tool, it was her job to decide how to use it right? It was her choice.

She glanced down at the spell again that she’d been reading. Hide scars, seal small blemishes without any mark.

She stared down at it for a long moment. Eventually, she folded the side of the page, marking it for later.

If she had a choice, then why did she feel so trapped?

-=+=-

“Are you okay?” Doug asked her, as the two walked to their english class together, something that had become the norm over the past few weeks.

Evie forced a smile, the almost-casual kind most people couldn't see through. “Of course? Why do you ask?”

Doug frowned at her. “Cause you keep looking around. And you straight up flinched when some girls laughed behind us.” He lowered his voice. “If you’re self conscious about what other people are-”

“I’m not!” She smiled, cutting him off.

Doug looked skeptical for a moment, then sighed. “Alright.” He said, finally, and pulled out his phone, probably to check the virtual garden game he’d shown her yesterday.

Evie took a deep breath, and took a sort of index over how she must have looked right now. Her hair should be perfect, but what if a bit fell out? What if her makeup had smudged?

She hurried into class and to her seat, pulling out her (non magical) mirror while Doug sat beside her, still on his phone.

Why were Auradon kids so good at emotional stuff? On the Isle the most anyone could do was tell if you were bluffing about a brag or a trade, stuff that could start a fight or something. But here everyone payed attention to everyone’s stupid emotions. The only thing they couldn't do was tell when people were obviously lying, all of them far too trusting.

Evie snapped her mirror closed, a bit harder than she really needed too. She was fine. She looked fine. Perfect. No one was saying anything about her, no one was even thinking of her.

The thought only made her feel more ill. She needed people to think about her, she needed them to love or fear her. Hadn't her mother told her a thousand times?

“Evie?” Someone called her name, snapping her from her spiraling thoughts.

“Y-yes?” She blinked, realizing the lesson had started and she hadn't even noticed.

The teacher looked at her for a moment too long, obvious suspicion in the woman’s eyes. “Ben says he needs you.” She finally said, gesturing to the door at the back of the room. Evie turned to see a nervous looking Ben standing in the doorway.

“Oh, one sec.” She hurried to grab her stuff and step out into the hall. Ben shut the door behind her, looking concerned.

“What happened?” She asked, eyebrows scrunched. She couldn't think of any reason Ben would come to get her, unless one of the others were hurt. (Or hurt someone else, but she honestly preferred they hurt someone else then being hurt themselves.)

“Nothing bad, don’t worry.” Ben said hurriedly, his nerves still evident. “I just- uh, Doug mentioned you were upset about something?” His arm moved to rub the back of his neck, hesitant. “And I was wondering if there was anything I could do to help?” He asked, eyes wide and expression open.

Evie blinked at him, surprised. Was that really all? From how sincerely embarrassed Ben seemed to be, face bright red, she didn’t think he was lying.

Evie considered Ben for a moment. She never talked about anything relating to emotions with anyone besides her crew. But he seemed… sincere. And he’d helped Carlos. And as much as she loved her crew, she didn’t really want to put this on them. Not because she couldn't trust them, but because she knew they were already worried about her.

Evie looked over her shoulder. There wasn't anyone in the hall, but they were still out in the open. Venerable.

“Is there anywhere private we could go to talk?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Ben looked shocked for a moment, before he shook himself back to reality. “Y-yeah! There’s an empty classroom at the end of the hall. Number 17.”

Evie nodded. The two walked to the room in silence. Evie tried to figure out how to explain what was going on without giving too many details, and staying as far away from mentioning the stress of their parent’s expectations.

Ben held the door open for her, earning himself a slight smile. She stepped inside, sitting at a spare desk right near the door. Ben seemed to take note of that, and moved a row farther in, so he was diagonal to Evie, and she was between him and the entryway.

Evie fiddled with her bracelets. Ben looked at her expectantly, though he seemed ready to wait for her. She was grateful for how considerate Ben was, but she didn’t really know how to respond.

“Would it be better if I got one of the others?” Ben asked, his hesitance still hanging around him.

Evie shook her head. “I don’t want to worry them.”

Ben nodded slowly. “Okay… we don’t need to talk about it, if you don’t want too. I just know talking about it can help, but there's no pressure. Seriously.”

Evie sent him a tight smile. “You really are such a gentleman, Ben.” He blushed, and her smile widened for a moment, before she sobered again. “It’s just… the people. The staring. It’s getting to me.” She admitted.

Ben frowned. “Are people saying stuff to you? Because if they are I can have Fairy Godmother talk to them.”

Evie shook her head again. “It’s just… whispers. Normal gossip and stuff. I should just ignore it, but it just....” She bit her lip. “It just makes me feel so ugly.” She finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Ben blinked at her, shocked confusion evident on his face. He honestly looked more like Evie’d slapped him with a fish rather than told him she was insecure.

“Ugly? Why?”

He sounded so baffled it practically forced a small laugh from Evie’s chest. She shook her head, another giggle passing her lips, and buried her face in her hands as dozens of emotions swirled around her mind.

“It seems ridiculous but… well my mother is known for her obsession with beauty, isn't she?” She let out another slightly hysterical laugh.

“It’s not ridiculous.” Ben insisted. Evie gave him a look, like she did when Carlos insisted he hadn't been up all night even though he was covered in motor oil.

“I’m serious.” Ben continued. “A lot of people have issues with how they look, and for the record, you’re one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen. And even if you weren't, that wouldn't mean you are any less of a person. Hell, I look like a boiled mushroom, and i’m gonna be king soon!” He laughed, face bright red.

Evie smiled at him, tired but genuine. “Thanks, Ben.”

He smiled back at her. “It’s not a problem, really.”

Evie glanced at the clock on the wall. “Should we go back to class?”

Ben checked his watch. “If you want too?” He looked up at her, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Or we could keep ditching. I know that a fresh shipment of ice cream just came in, and no one should be in the kitchens right now.”

Evie laughed. “Sure, lets go.”

-=+=-

Mal watched Jay from the corner of her eye as she ate. The two were situated in a secluded corner of the field for lunch, and Jay had been weirdly silent the past few days. It was a bit worrying, but she knew she didn’t need to push, at least not for him, Jay was surprisingly open to discussing stuff with the other four after he had time to process it himself.

They sat for a little while longer. Eventually, Jay broke the almost-silence around them.

“Mal.” He said her name almost like a request. She relaxed slightly, and turned to him.

“What’s up?” She asked, gentle in a way she could only be when she was alone with one of the others.

Jay hesitated. “I think there's something wrong with the bracelet.”

“What?” Mal’s relief at the fact that Jay was ready to talk instantly dissipated. She grabbed at his arm to look at his wrist, knowing full well that if anyone besides her, Carlos, or Evie tried that Jay’d probably have fucking decked them.

“It-” Jay cut himself off with a sigh. “The other day, that window that exploded, I think that was me. I was… thinking about stuff, and all of a sudden the bracelet got super hot and the window shattered.”

Mal frowned. “This was supposed to drain your magic but…. Well, your a Djinn.” She whispered the word, even though they were alone. ”You generate a lot of magic, much more than we do. More than the bracelet can contain.”

Jay’s eyebrows scrunched. “I thought it like released the magic or something?”

“In theory, yeah.” Mal huffed. “Magic is active, it’s a form of energy. It never stops moving, and it doesn't stay in a container for long. It passively leaks out on its own, that's why nothing happens unless you try to use the magic. But you generate so much, it fills up faster than it gets rid of it. So, you’re left with magic of your own.”

Jay’s expression became stricken with fear, and his breathing hitched. Mal internally berated herself for how blunt she could be.

“So then, what do I do?” He asked, voice strained.

Mal grabbed his hand. “First take a breath.” She told him. He scowled for a moment, but then seemed to force himself to take a grounding breath.

“Okay.” She breathed, interlocking their fingers. “I’ll get E to make a few more of these, okay? And I’ll curse ‘em with the same thing. I’ll try and see if we can find a more permanent solution, maybe C can find something online. But it’s gonna be fine, okay?”

Jay took another breath, and buried his face in her shoulder, nodding into it. Her arms wrapped around his back.

“Alright.”

#keep them close #descendants

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emeraldwaves · 6 years ago

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Title: What We Lack Part 11 Pairing: Kacchako, Dekulissa, Todomomo Rating: T Word Count: 4,224 Read on Ao3 Summary:

Quirkless.

They’re the last people anyone expects to have a child without a quirk.

Neither of them can fully wrap their heads around it, but Ochako knows Katsuki is struggling far more than her.

Thank you to @its-love-u-asshole for beta-ing

Full fic under the cut

Yuuta stood at the door to his brother's room. He knew they were far too old to be sharing a room, but sometimes he missed it.

He missed seeing Arata's messy red and black hair tossed about when he jolted up from his sleep, racing Yuuta to see who could get to the kitchen first. He missed staying up past their bedtime and giggling about how their parents would never find out.

He missed being friends with Arata.

Ever since middle school things had been... like this. Arata asked for his own room, and he moved all his stuff into one of the extra office spaces down the hall. He focused on his studies and trained his quirk to his limits practically everyday. Yuuta sometimes wished he had the drive and focus his brother did... but Arata rarely offered or asked to do anything with Yuuta or Shouhei anymore. It was a tradeoff, Yuuta supposed.

They hadn't talked since the acceptance letters. When middle school ended and they graduated, Arata spent most of his days prepping to move and working on his quirk. Occasionally he would go out for a few hours and come home looking tired before heading straight to his room.

Yuuta wanted to know he was okay.

That, and he hated seeing how stressed out his mother was about the whole ordeal.

Yuuta had heard her various times from down the hall, calling to him.

"Arata? Can we talk?"

"Arata, I wanted to discuss packing for U.A with you."

"Arata, I had some questions-"

He rarely answered, or would open his door for a few moments before disappearing back into his room.

"Yuu, please talk to your brother," Momo whispered. Her dark eyes looked tired, like she was desperate for more answers.

And though Yuuta nodded, he wasn't sure he would have much more luck talking to his moody brother. Which is why he stood in front of his door, wanting to knock.

He took a deep breath, wishing he wasn't so nervous about speaking to his twin brother. Maybe he just needed to be a little more forward, like Arata sometimes was! He could meet him on his level.

He knocked softly. "Arata, it's Yuu, can we talk?"

Silence. Maybe Arata was secretly really nervous about moving away from home. Yuuta sure was. They were so close to the school and while he liked the thought of living away, especially close to Shouhei, he was also terrified of leaving the comfort of his own home. What if he was terrible? What if he didn't belong in the hero class? What if they hated him? What if they assume he just got in because of Shouto and Creati?

Maybe Arata was asking himself these questions too... though he had never been quite as anxious as Yuuta.

He knocked again. "Ara-"

The door opened and Arata leaned against the frame. "What Yuu?" he asked, frowning.

"Hey! You opened!" he said and stepped over him, flopping down on Arata's bed.

It only made his brother frown more.

"Yuuta... what the hell are you doing?"

"Aw c'mon Arata! Don't be so grouchy! I just... missed you is all!" he shrugged. "We're gonna be moving in soon and... it's just weird."

A flash of sadness danced across his blue eyes, but then he looked away, huffing. "It's not weird. We're not little kids anymore, Yuuta."

Yuuta sighed, pulling his teeth over his lips. "Yeah... I guess we're not..." he muttered softly. "You just... seem upset and I was wondering if you're nervous."

"I'm not upset."

"But you barely come out of your room-"

"Who are you? Mom?" he snapped, taking a seat as his desk chair. His blue eyes were sharp as he stared at a flabbergasted Yuuta.

"Sorry..." he mumbled. "I didn't realize it was such a bad thing to want to talk to your twin brother."

"Are you trying to make me feel guilty?" he asked, turning back towards his laptop. "It's not going to work."

"Arata... I don't understand why you're so mad... we're both going to U.A! It's been our dream with Shouhei since we were little kids! We used to talk about it all the time! Are you just... mad we're not in the same class?"

"No, fuck... Yuuta just... I just want to focus, okay?" he said. "I want to be stronger. We're... we're Todorokis!" he said, curling his hand over the back of his chair. "I want to be able to use my quirk more freely. I want to prove that I..." he shakes his head. "It's not the sort of thing that matters to you."

"But... Arata you're so strong," Yuuta urged. "You're talented and funny and... I dunno, I miss my brother..."

"You can see me whenever you want!" he said, rolling his eyes.

"Not... really..." he mumbled. "You lock yourself up in here and I... I dunno. I just want to talk to you about being nervous and excited for U.A. and I wanted to tell you that... Shouhei..." he trailed off, his cheeks turning red as he remember the small kiss on the slide.

Arata raised his eyebrow. "I told you, I'm studying. If you really need to talk to me then, I dunno, knock like today? And what the hell is that face, what about Shouhei?"

"We... he..."

"Fucked you?" Arata asked bluntly.

"W-WHAT?!" Yuuta screamed and waved his arms frantically. "N-No! We just kissed, just a kiss!"

"Oh. Finally," Arata shrugged, rolling his eyes at Yuuta flailing on his bed.

"F-Finally?!"

"Yeah, you two have been gay for each other since we were kids. Duh," Arata said. "Did you just come in here to tell me something I probably could've figured out on my own?"

"A-Arata... Maybe don't say it like that..." Yuuta sighed, shaking his head. "A-And don't tell Mom and Dad! I have to figure out a way to tell them." It was a stupid request, since Arata was barely talking to their parents anyway.

"Pretty sure they already know too," Arata shrugged again.

"W-WHAT?!" Yuuta said. "But I haven't told anyone that we kissed!"

"No... I just meant... they probably know you like Shouhei," Arata muttered, leaning over the edge of his chair. He pushed out and grabbed his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder.

"They do?" Yuuta asked, tilting his head to the side, his nose wrinkling in confusion.

"You're not a very subtle person Yuuta," Arata said, pushing his feet into his boots.

"Hey..." he mumbled, his cheeks heating up once more. "Where are you going exactly?"

"Training," he shrugged.

"I-I'll come with you!" Yuuta said, pushing himself off the bed. He wasn't exactly in the mood, but Arata seemed to be acting semi-normal and-

"No," he said. "I want to do this without you."

The words hurt deeper than Yuuta realized they would.

"O-Oh... okay..." he said. Just as he thought things would maybe be okay, Arata was walking out the door, leaving him behind yet again.

"Sayuri-chan! So good to see you!" Deku's smile was bright as he opened the door to their large house, allowing her to step inside.

She slipped off her shoes and bowed her head. "Uncle Deku! Hi!"

Sayuri couldn't remember a time when the Midoriyas weren't a part of her life. Deku and her mother were close friends and though her father often spoke of their rivalry, she knew he greatly respected the man and they were mostly on good terms. Despite hardships they apparently had together as children, they got along now... for the most part.

"Sayuri!" Kazu's voice could be heard as he skirted around the corner, his socks slipping on the floor. "Mom and I are in the basement! You gotta come see this!" He ran forward and wrapped his hand around her wrist, his green eyes twinkling brightly.

Sayuri's cheeks flushed. Kazu's hand was warm, and he looked so cute being so excited like this.

"Okay!" she smiled. "See ya' Deku."

"Kazu, please don't slip on the floor..." Deku muttered. "And please don't take Sayu-chan with you. If you hurt Kacchan's daughter, I'll never hear the end of it."

"Dad, we're fine! I promise," he said. "I just got excited!"

"Okay, okay, go help your mother," he chuckled.

"Yes!" He pulled Sayuri back around the corner, tugging her towards the basement where Melissa's lab was.

"What's your mom working on?" Sayuri asked.

"Actually something for your mom!" Kazu said. "We're working on developing a gravity belt that can measure where your mom's center of gravity is so she can recalibrate herself easier."

"She has been getting more nauseous lately," Sayuri nodded. "She claims it's because she's 'getting old'."

"Your mom isn't even that old..." Kazu said, opening the door to the lab in the basement.

"That's what I kept telling her but she got all dramatic and insisted it was true."

"What did your dad say?" Kazu snorted.

"Oh he yelled at her and said she wasn't old. Also he said something about how she was technically insulting them both since they're the same age," she laughed, following Kazu down the small corridor to greet his mother.

"You know," Melissa said, pushing her goggles up when she opened the door. "I'm two years older than your parents, so if anyone should be insulted, it's me."

"Mom!" Kazu said, shaking his head. "You're not old."

"Mmm I'm getting to that age!" she giggled, letting them both step in the room.

"What age?"

"Old age," she whispered. "This is what happens when you realize you have a teenage son now."

"Mom, we're still in middle school."

"I know, I know," Melissa waved her hand.

"I promise you're not old Aunt Melissa," Sayuri giggled, laughing at the woman. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail, making it easier for her to put her goggles on.

"You both said the right answer," she winked. "So, Sayu-chan, are you ready to have a break full of lab work? I'm working on this for your mother, and I have a bunch of other requests. I told Kazu I think you two are plenty old and smart enough to assist me with this."

Sayuri's face lit up. Actually getting to help in the lab sounded fun. Melissa was incredibly talented, together her and Mei ran Melissa's company, working on upgrades for the pros. Occasionally however, Melissa worked privately in her lab when it came to upgrades for her friends.

It wasn't the first time Sayuri had been here. She often enjoyed watching Melissa work. It reminded her that maybe she was normal and not as weird as everyone viewed her. Melissa lived her entire life quirkless, and it never seemed to bother her.

Sayuri was jealous.

"We have a whole list here," Kazu said, holding his finger in front of the floating piece of paper. It was really the only thing Kazu used his quirk for, and even then he rarely used it. The levitation usually wore off if he didn't hold his finger up against it.

"Great!" Sayuri smiled.

"Perfect, let's get you both started," Melissa nodded, and began to set up the side work station for them to test out whatever they wanted.

Occasionally, Melissa would pause and ask Sayuri questions about her mother, and then she would go back to it, allowing Kazu and Sayuri to work with a temperature gauge for Shouto.

Working in the lab made Sayuri feel like she could actually do something. None of them needed their quirks in there, and she only had to use her brain. The one thing she was actually good at doing. Usually.

"I heard your brother got into U.A," Melissa said, hunched over her desk, fiddling with a few things on the belt. "I'm sure he was very excited."

"O-Oh! Yeah we definitely celebrated. My mom has been in full panic mode about him moving into the dorms," Sayuri said, slightly taken aback. She'd been so focused, she wasn't expecting to have to talk about Shouhei today. She didn't really want to talk about Shouhei.

"Well we'll have to tell him congratulations when we see him," Melissa chuckled, still focused on her work.

Kazu tilted his head back and forth. "I'm going to go upstairs and get some ice... and boil some water. I wanna test out how accurate the temperature is on this..." he said, looking at the strange thermometer device they were working on.

"Alright!" Sayuri said. "I'll wait."

Kazu dashed towards the entrance, heading upstairs, which left Sayuri alone with Melissa.

It wasn't something she minded, in all honesty Melissa was one of her favorite people. She was someone Sayuri felt she could actually connect with and she gave her hope for the future... well, her future.

"How are you feeling about your brother?" Melissa asked, pulling back to push up her goggles. Her eyes were warm, the question very genuine.

"I-I'm happy for him," she said, shrugging. "I'm not gonna miss have his obnoxious ass in the house!"

"Oh really?" Melissa giggled.

"No way!" Sayuri shook her head.

She put down her screwdriver and pulled a stool over, taking a seat. "Kazu has told me about some of the rude kids at school. I know Shouhei and Yuuta often stood up for you. You don't have to tell me about it if you don't want, but I guess I wanted you to know that I've been there."

Sayuri immediately blushed, embarrassed Melissa knew about the shameful things that happened at school.

She sighed. "Yeah, people are assholes." She lifted her shoulders shrugging. There wasn’t much she could do about it.

"They are," Melissa nodded. "I got teased a lot in middle school, but by the time I got to high school, I was so much smarter than all of them I didn't care," she smiled.

Sayuri ran her finger along the edge of the desk. She wished it was that simple... not that she wasn't smart, she was one of the top students in their class. It was just... difficult to maintain when she felt so left behind in so many other aspects of her life.

"It's fine," she shrugged, biting down on her lip. "They just... think they can come at me because of... my parents."

Melissa snorted. "I would think it would be the opposite. No one would want to face the wrath of Ground Zero."

Both girls laughed. "No they just say things about how they're probably ashamed of me and stuff and it's stupid because I know... they're not," she said. Though sometimes she did wonder about her father.

"Not at all. They're both very proud of you. I just want you to stay confident and know that you're a very gifted young woman, Sayuri," Melissa said gently. "You're incredibly smart and if you keep heading in this direction, Mei and I would gladly take you on. If this is what you want."

If that was what she wanted... Sayuri didn't want to look sad exactly... but the truth was she had no idea what she wanted, or where she expected her life to go.

"It was something that took me a while to figure out but... even without a quirk, you and I both still have talents," Melissa explained. "I will make sure you see that by the end of this break!"

"Thanks." Sayuri couldn't help but smile. She was thankful to know Melissa and know someone who was almost exactly the same as her.

She honestly wished she could live in the damn lab. At least there she felt like she was truly worth something.

"Again."

Enji's voice was loud, louder than Arata remembered it being. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, his body shivering, his body temperature dangerously low. His mother always warned him of this, but his grandfather didn't seem to care much.

"O-Okay..." he winced, pushing himself up to create more crystals.

"Are you tired, Arata?" Enji asked, keeping his arms folded over his chest.

"No..."

"Mmm... Enough," Enji muttered, stepping out of the training room.

Arata's face fell. He swallowed, trying to pull in a few more breaths, desperate to fill his lungs. "G-Grandfather, I can keep going!"

"You can barely stand up. Your body is shutting down."

"..." Arata curled his fist against the wooden floor. "What the hell am I supposed to do then?"

"Get stronger," Enji stated. "That's why you're here, isn't it?"

Arata nodded. What a disappointment he was... his body couldn't even hold out for this long.

"Y-Yeah..." he stammered, biting his lip so not to cry in front of the older man.

"You're weak. You're not used to this sort of training. I will help you, Arata, but it will push you."

"I don't care," he growled. "I want to be stronger."

"You will be," Enji muttered, his eyes sharp, the flames burning against his beard and upper lip.

Arata sat back, still panting as his body temperature slowly began to rise. He needed to monitor it better. His quirk made it too easy for his temperature to drop, the fire crystals sucking all the heat from his body.

"Grandfather..." he whispered. "How do you... stay cool when you're always... on fire like that?" His own father never let his flames out like his grandfather. Probably on purpose. Arata knew his father wasn't the biggest fan of Endeavor.

Guilt washed over Arata, just thinking about it. His father would be mad the moment he found out he chose to train with his grandfather. This was everything his father didn't want... and yet...

Arata didn't know who else would push him enough to get stronger.

"My quirk is very different from yours. You take after your mother," Enji stated. "My body is immune to the heat." Arata felt his heart sink a bit. Did Enji look at him as lesser than say, Yuuta, whose quirk was far closer to his own?

Why was Yuuta always accidentally better than him?

"I want to go again," he breathed, pushing himself up.

"No. You're going home, Arata. Pack up your things. I will see you tomorrow."

"But-"

"If you want me to train you, you will not argue with me. Make sure you exercise tomorrow before you come here," he stated.

Arata sighed. Over the past few days of training with his grandfather, he had come to learn very quickly that disobeying would get him yelled at and he was not to argue with the man unless he wanted to be forced to push himself even harder.

Not that Arata minded pushing himself. It was part of the whole reason he even came here.

"Thank you for all your hard work, Grandfather," Arata said, bowing his head as he grabbed his bag.

"Tomorrow then," Enji said dismissively.

"Yeah... tomorrow."

Arata stepped out of the house, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

His body still felt cold, so he zipped up his rain jacket as far as it would go. He looked a little foolish, but it was late enough no one would probably notice or care.

He was going to wake up extra early tomorrow morning and go for a jog. He had to be in better shape if he wanted to do well during these training sessions too.

Arata was going to get stronger, and nothing was going to stop him.

When he stepped into his house and slipped off his shoes, he was surprised to see his father still in the living area, scrolling through his phone.

"Arata," Shouto said, looking up from the device.

"Hey Dad," he nodded and began to walk towards his room.

"Take a seat," he said.

Momentarily, Arata froze. Did his father know? Had Enij told him? He doubted it... his father and grandfather rarely spoke.

He swallowed. "You know, Dad, I'm pretty tired. I gotta get to bed, I wanna go for a run in the morning-"

"Arata, you can sit for one moment with me."

He pursed his lips and took a deep breath, making his way over to sit with his father. "Kinda surprised you're awake-"

"I was waiting for you," Shouto said, cutting him off.

"Oh..."

"Arata," Shouto began. "I don't know what is going on in your head right now. I don't expect you to tell me. You're about to be in high school and living on your own. You and your brother are getting more independent."

"Yeah, I mean, we're not kids anymore Dad," Arata muttered, folding his arms across his chest.

"I understand that. But... you are worrying your mother and I. We know how lively and energetic you can be and it seems like more often than not, you are going out for long hours or locking yourself in your room," Shouto stated. "If something is going on, we want you to speak to us. Your mother and I are always happy to listen-"

"Nothing is going on, Dad," Arata said, running his hand through his hair. "I just am putting my energy into new things. It's not a big deal. I want to be ready for U.A."

"I understand that," Shouto said, sighing. He wasn't buying Arata's excuse even for a minute. "I just... I want you to know that we are always here for you... no matter what. Your mother is too."

"Yeah I get it..." he muttered. "Can I go to bed now?"

Shouto sighed again. "Yes. From now on, please text your mother and I to let us know where you're going and when you'll be home."

"Dad, I'm about to be living in the dorms-"

"Right now you're living with us. Please... respect our wishes," he said softly.

Arata bit his lip. He would probably have to make something up. The idea of lying to his father didn't appeal to him, but if he was going to make up these rules... then... so be it. "Yeah... alright," he said.

"Thank you," Shouto muttered. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but based on Arata's responses, maybe he figured out it wasn't worth his breath.

"Good night, Dad," Arata said, nodding his head.

"Night, Arata."

Even if Shouto seemed disappointed in him now, soon Arata knew he would make him so damn proud.

"I'm home!" Sayuri called out, slipping her shoes off and dropping her bag in the front entrance.

"Don't leave your bag there, honey!" Ochako's voice called from the kitchen.

She rolled her eyes and carried her bag with her as she walked into the kitchen, seeing Ochako hovering over the stove. "Dad is letting you cook tonight?"

"Hush! I can cook!" Ochako said. "He's out with your brother in the yard. They're training. I swear if he burns down ANY of the flowers I planted earlier this season, I will kill him."

Sayuri giggled softly and made her way towards her room, tossing her bag inside. "He, uh, must be pretty excited."

"Mhm. It's stressing me out plenty!" Ochako chuckled, taking a seat at the table while she let the food slow cook on the stove. "I spent most of today gathering things he'll need for his dorm room, that he of course, never thought about," she sighed. "Boys."

"Boys..." Sayuri muttered, sitting at the table with her mother.

"But enough about that, how was working with Melissa?" she asked.

"It was fun," she said. "We were working on your belt."

"Ugh," Ochako sighed. "The belt that proves I'm getting old!"

"Mom!" Sayuri rolled her eyes. "That's not even true."

"Pretty soon my time will be up," she said and flopped against the table.

"Mom," Sayuri whined. "Stop being so damn dramatic!"

"Okay, okay..." she pushed herself up. "Are you going to be helping her for most of the break?"

"Mhm..." Sayuri nodded. "She, uh, she said I was very talented and gifted."

"Well that isn't anything new. You've always been so smart, sweetheart," Ochako smiled.

"She said her and Mei would probably take me on once I was done with school. I-If I wanted..." she mumbled.

Ochako's face brightened immediately. "Of course they would!" she smiled. She stood up and made her way around the table to cup her cheeks. "You are the smartest girl I know, and I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, Mom," Sayuri said, leaning against her.

"Whatever you choose to do, you know your father and I will be happy to support you. We're always so proud of you and your brother. I think... we have the most perfect kids," she said and gently tapped her nose.

"Shut up, Mom! You have to say that!" Sayuri laughed softly, rolling her eyes.

"No I don't. If you two were villains, I would have to fight you."

Sayuri's eyes widened. "I think Dad would kill us if we were villains."

"Most likely- AH!" Ochako gasped, running over to the stove. "I can't burn down your father's kitchen."

Sayuri giggled at her mother. She really wanted to be happy about what she said, and what Melissa said, but something about it made her heart feel heavy.

She wished she could see the future so she could know that eventually she wouldn't feel so lost... that she could know, even like this, she would end up happy.

#kacchako #todomomo #melissa sheild #todoroki shouto #bnha #boku no hero academia #midoriya izuku #uraraka ochako #yaoyorozu momo #future au #oc kids #dekulissa

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axispheydra · 6 years ago

Text

Prompt 6 - Beginning

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

“Did you hear the news about the Sultansworn, Orara?”

For a moment, Orara’s heart stopped, as did her feet. She turned to face the voice, a stack of papers resting in her arms. “No, what news Dedewe? What’s happened?” The Sultansworn were a group where no news would be considered good news- they mostly kept to themselves, so if something got out,t hat meant it was something big.

The other Lalafell put her hands up. “Oh, don’t give me a look like that! You’ll scare me to death! It’s nothing bad, I promise!”

Orara felt her heart beat again, and she sighed in relief. “Please lead with that next time.”

Dedewe laughed, nodding. “Okay, okay, I’ll remember it for next time. But you’ve heard of the paladins, right?”

Of course she knew, who didn’t know? The paladins of the Sultansworn were the elite of the elite, dedicated defenders of the sultanate and practitioners of the powerful and secret arts of the paladin. Orara had considered joining the Sultansworn, only changing her mind when she discovered that because they were sworn to protect the sultanate, a good number of them rarely ventured outside the city.

“I have. Are they opening their ranks? I imagine there would be some within the Flames that-”

“No, not like that. They say they’re going to begin teaching the paladin arts to outsiders!”

Orara couldn’t stop her jaw going slack at the news. “T-they what?”

Dedewe giggled. “Aha, I knew you’d be interested in hearing that! I still remember when we were bunkmates and you told me of when you dreamed of joining the Sultansworn-”

“Be quiet!” she snapped, feeling a flush climb up her cheeks. It felt like that had been happening a lot lately. “It wasn’t like that! N-not entirely, at least. Where did you hear this anyhow?”

“Some of the gladiators outside the guild were talking about it. You’ve been training there, right? And you’re always talking about how you want to help people, so I think it would be perfect for you!”

“It... it can’t be that simple,” Orara murmured, hefting the papers she carried. They suddenly felt very heavy.

“Well, it can’t hurt to go and see, can it?” Dedewe wore a grin that told Orara she knew exactly what she was doing. “Try asking the Captain, Jenlyns! The worst that happens is he says no, right?”

Orara nodded, beginning to walk off. “I’ll... I’ll think about it.” It was a lot to think about- nowhere near as simple as just considering if she wanted to be a paladin. The paladins of the Sultansworn took special oaths, dedicating their lives to the protection of the sultanate. She imagined that these new paladins would not be held to the same standards, but at the same time, there was no way they would allow someone to become a paladin simply because they wanted to.

It had to mean something.

She gripped the papers tightly, coming to a stop in the middle of the hall. It always felt as though there were obstacles in the Immortal Flames, rules and regulations that could prevent both good and bad intentions from coming to fruition. While she understood their purpose, the higher the rank she achieved, the more she found herself becoming frustrated with the bureaucracy of it all. Still, she enjoyed her time in the Flames; with the friends she had come to make and the good they had done together.

But if there came an opportunity to do better... What kind of fool would not grasp for it? If someone tossed you a ladder, why not try to climb out of the gutter?

Orara did not sleep well that night, but the next morning she found herself heading for the Royal Promenade all the same. It was difficult to miss Captain Jenlyns, standing proud in the armor of a paladin. He turned to watch her as she approached, nodding.

“Good morning, Sergeant. To what do I owe the pleasure of the Immortal Flames?” He spoke plainly, with that same confidence Orara had seen in Mylla and A’duku. Some people simply knew exactly where they needed to be in the world, and doubtlessly her own voice did not carry that weight.

“Nothing official, Captain. I... I heard that the Sultansworn was offering to teach the paladin arts to outsiders, is that correct?” She asked, unsure of her own conviction.

Jenlyns smiled now, nodding. “It is. I take it you’re interested in pursuing the path of the paladin? I admire your resolve, but I want you to understand exactly what it means to be a paladin.”

Orara nodded, eyes widening. “Yes, that- that’s what I wanted to speak to you about! I mean, that’s what I’m interested in. I want to help people, not just the people of Ul’dah, but of all Eorzea, and to be a paladin... that’s what it means, right? To devote yourself to a higher cause?”

“I’m impressed you know so much, and by your feelings on the matter. Might I know your name, Sergeant?”

“It’s Orara, Captain. And I simply have a good deal of respect for the Sultansworn and what they do. I just thought that to join the Sultansworn, my actions would be...”

“Limited?” he supplied. Orara gave him a sheepish nod. “You wouldn’t be alone in thinking that,” Jenlyns continued. “Which is one of the reasons why we are opening the ranks of the paladins to individuals not part of the Sultansworn. You see, our numbers are dwindling, and so to keep the paladin teachings alive, we’re prepared to induct adventurers into our ranks to serve as free paladins. Aye, you should still aim to serve as the sword and shield of the people of the realm, but you won’t be constricted by the Sultansworn code. A free paladin has no master, save themselves.”

Now that sounded promising. Orara felt something bubbling inside her gut, the same sensation she’d felt when she enlisted in the Immortal Flames. The idea of being part of something bigger, of helping people in need, of doing something that really, truly mattered.

“I think I would be interested in becoming a paladin,” she said, quietly, so as not to embarrass herself with the excitement she felt.

“Glad am I to hear it. However, if you’re enlisted with the Immortal Flames, there could be some difficulties. As I mentioned, we’re looking for adventurers to fill our ranks, mostly due to the flexibility they enjoy.”

Orara’s heart fell, but she nodded. It made sense; as a member of the Flames, she couldn’t simply go out and do whatever she wanted, as her loyalty was sworn to the Flames above all.

“I see,” she said, raising a hand to her chin. “That’s unfortunate.”

Jenlyns seemed genuinely regretful to break the news. “While this avenue may not be open to you, I know that there are other ways you can do good for the people of the land as a member of one of our Grand Companies. And I admire the fire stoked in your heart, Orara. I hope to hear great things of you.”

She nodded and gave the Captain the Flames’ salute. “I appreciate your kindness, Jenlyns, and I thank you for your time.”

But as she turned away, Orara felt as if she might return sometime soon. She didn’t see the path of a paladin closed off to her, but rather as a detour away from the path she was on. As part of the Immortal Flames, she had the might of the whole Grand Company to work with, but it would take time to reach a point where she could do the most good, not to mention there would always be someone or something working in opposition to her. As a free paladin, she could do nearly whatever she wished, but with that came the inherent risks of being an adventurer.

All in all, remaining with the Flames made more sense. But there was an allure to being a paladin that Orara couldn’t refute. Her mind was no more made up when she finally arrived back at the barracks., but she knew who she wanted to speak to.

She knocked on the door, waiting only a few moments before it opened. “Yes? Oh, Orara, good to see you,” said A’duku, smiling down at her. “Thank you for delivering those supply assessments the other day, you’ve been a great help.”

She had no idea how to breach this subject, and while she respected the captain’s opinions immensely, she felt she already knew he would resist the idea. He’d been part of the Flames far longer than she had, and was loyal through and through. But if nothing else, it might help her realize what she really wanted. “Of course, sir. May I come in? I have something I wish to speak with you of, privately.”

He looked surprised, but opened the door for her. “Of course, Sergeant. Come in.”

She’d been in his office many times before, mostly acting as an informal secretary to him. They worked well together, and she found his years of experience invaluable to her learning. And aside from that, she thought he enjoyed working alongside her just as much. So how would he respond to something like this?

She climbed up on one of the chairs, fidgeting for a moment. “Is there something the matter, Orara?” he asked. “You seem... hesitant, am I right?”

“Somewhat,” she nodded. For a moment, she wondered if he was the right person to discuss this with. It was possible that he valued her position too much, or was too loyal to the Flames to want to hear about her thoughts. If she didn’t want to talk about this, maybe she didn’t want it at all in the end.

But she had to at least try, right?

“A’duku... did you hear the news about the Sultansworn?”

#FFxivWrite2019 #writing #orara ora #ff14

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fortitude-sakura · 7 years ago

Text

Noir [1/?]

AO3

Summary: We wander through the darkness, alone and blind. That is, until we find each other and walk into the light together.Love blossoms in many different ways and at different times. It's beautiful any way you look at it.

Rating: M

Tags: Corporate AU

“Sakura!” A sweet, feminine voice sing songed from the hallway. “Congrats!”

Sakura’s roommate Tenten bounced into their tiny living room, the widest grin on her face.

“Thanks, Tenten.” She smiled, looking up from her laptop over her shoulder.

“I got you something.” Tenten announced, leaning over the back the couch, dangling an envelope in her roommate’s face. “Something to celebrate you finally finding a job.”

“An internship.” Sakura corrected, as she took the envelope and opening it up.

“It’s a paid internship, that’s what counts!”

Tenten had gotten her a gift certificate to Serenitea House, a fancy tea house in the city. It was a really popular place because of how aesthetically pleasing everything was from the food to the decor and so she saw it a lot on Picstagram.

“Oh wow! You’re the best Tenten, thank you!” she said, hugging her roommate. “You wanna go tomorrow since it’s Saturday?”

“Sounds like a date.” Tenten said, winking mischievously.

“I’ll pick you up at 1.” Sakura laughed. “It’s not as if I have a better offer.”

“Rude!” Tenten pouted comically, hitting her roommate with a throw pillow. “I’ll have you know I’ll be the best date you’ve ever had.”

黑

The tea house was styled with traditional Japanese elements - wooden furnishing, panelled walls with linen pillows - as well as more modern design - their desserts and drinks were served on delightfully minimalist dinnerware. They had been seated by the window, where the lazy Saturday sun, made the small koi pond outside sparkle.

“So which company is the internship with again?” Tenten asked, peering inquisitively at her assorted tea jellies.

“Uchiha Enterprises. You know, I’m surprised I got the internship there since I’ve applied to nearly every single job in this city.” Sakura replied, taking a sip of her hojicha latte. Serenitea House really lived up to all the hype, the hojicha was divine.

“Well, since it’s a paid internship, we can finally stop eating like we’re broke students.” Tenten laughed.

Indeed, in the last 2 years they had lived together they really did eat like they only had $100 to feed the both of them, so much so that Tenten developed a signature instant ramen dish (which really was just ramen noodles stir fried with whatever she could scrounge up with a spicy sauce).

“You’ll still cook noodles for me though, right?”

“Of course, otherwise the only thing you’ll have for the entire day is a coffee and a muffin.” Tenten giggled. “Anyway, when do you start?”

“Monday. Which reminds me, do you have a blazer I could borrow?”

“You don’t have anything?”

Sakura shook her head. Between her job searches and meagre part time wage, she had only bought a single black sheath dress to wear to interviews.

Tenten thought for a moment. “I should have something. I’ll have to take it in though - you’re a lot smaller than I am.”

That was the benefit of having a friend that was a tailor - she could make anything fit you like a glove. Sakura had wide hips but wasn’t very tall, so she would often have to buy pants that were slightly larger resulting in extra pant length. Sakura also had the issue of a lot of clothing being too loose in the chest, much to her dismay. Over the years, Tenten had taken up many pant hems and taken in clothes that were too big or loose for Sakura.

Tenten herself shared Sakura’s pain with ill fitting, off the rack clothing, although her issues were attributed to a generous chest and what she liked to refer to as Thundaga thighs (a result of playing too much Final Fantasy).

“Tenten?” a soft voice questioned.

Tenten jumped slightly and looked up to see a pretty, gentle faced girl with long silky black hair. Her lavender coloured cashmere sweater brought out small hint of lilac in her pale eyes and emphasized the slight purple lustre to her hair.

“H-Hinata! Hi!” Tenten said, rather started. “This is my roommate, Haruno Sakura.”

Sakura smiled and gave her a polite head bob.

“It’s been a while! Are you having tea here too?”

The girl called Hinata smiled softly, her pale purple eyes twinkling. “Oh um, kind of. I opened this tea house.”

“Really?” Sakura exclaimed, “The tea and desserts here are amazing!”

“Thank you. We also serve light meals too! Our chef, Koma-san is very talented. Please let me know when you’d like to try them - I’ll save a private room for you.” Hinata said earnestly, reaching into her expensive leather handbag and producing her business card. “Just send me a message or call me.”

“Thanks! We will!” Sakura said, waving as Hinata left the two girls to their tea.

She looked over the business card. ‘Hyuga Hinata’ was embossed on the heavy cream coloured card, her phone number just below her name. She opened her mouth to say something but Tenten looked like she was in a faraway place, her eyes glazed over with hints of reminiscence.

黑

The first week at Uchiha Enterprises did not go as she expected. She had been slightly nervous about the idea of having to get straight to work but it seemed as though the first week was purely for orientation and administrative matters.

After getting her photo taken and keycard printed, Sakura, along with a dozen other interns were given lengthy presentations from a Takaya-san from the Talent Acquisition Department (which was really just a fancy name for Human Resources) on how the Internship Program worked (a quarterly department rotation in order to best determine suitability beyond the program if the participant passed), various employee incentives (from discounted movie tickets, corporate discounts to the famous Employee Housing Program). Lunch had been generously catered for each day, even though there was supposedly a subsidised staff cafeteria.

At lunch, her fellow interns were discussing the many benefits of working here.

“So, did you guys apply for the Employee Housing thing?” a tall, dark haired guy name Shoichi asked, tucking into his turkey and cranberry focaccia.

“No,” Hiromi sniffed, tossing her shiny golden hair over her shoulder as she picked at her salad with ladylike delicacy, “I don’t live far away enough to qualify.”

Takaya-san talked about the Employee Housing Scheme that morning. Apparently it was a new incentive that Uchiha Itachi had started to encourage applications from talented individuals that would not have otherwise applied due to location.

“That was the only reason why I applied.” Toshiro piped up, pushing his glasses up his nose. “This was the only company in Konoha I applied for. I had offers back in Suna from high profile companies, but ultimately the program was what convinced me.” he said rather haughtily.

Of all the interns, Toshiro was the one she liked the least. He was always humble bragging, talking about what other companies made him offers and how he graduated from University of Suna magna cum laude . If she had to endure another conversation of him and his IQ (“142, that’s genius territory.”) she’d punch him (or not, since it was technically physical assault and she’d get terminated).

After lunch and the inevitable lull of sleepiness that followed (too much good food can be a bad thing after all), they were given a “quick tour of the office” as Takaya-san put it.

The Uchiha Enterprise owned the land the building stood on and subsequently owned all 38 floors of said building. Takaya-san also noted that the Uchiha Enterprise also owned other various buildings, including a high rise and a small block of apartments that were used in the Employee Housing Program.

Most departments took up a single whole floor, while others took up several. Some departments (mostly the marketing and creative departments) had surprisingly modern office concepts - open offices, bean bags, feature walls and even table tennis tables - while other floors were more traditional - cubicles, potted office plants and file boxes piled everywhere.

They all piled back into one of the 6 elevators after touring the sad cubicles of the Finance Department when Toshiro spoke up.

“So is the 38th floor, Uchiha Sasuke’s office?”

Takaya-san was looking rather annoyed as did everyone else. Toshiro kept commentating on almost everything as they toured the office. Hiromi and Ami gave him withering looks and shuffled away from him.

“It’s Director Uchiha to you.” snapped Takaya-san. Poor Takaya-san. She had been rather patient the entire time but even she had her limits. “But yes, 38th is the Director’s Office.” she said, swiping her keycard and pressing the ‘38’ button.

The rest of the interns started murmuring with interest.

“The man’s a proper genius. Not as brilliant as Uchiha Itachi, but still.” Shoichi said in awe.

Hiromi and Ami were giggling about how they had seen Director Uchiha on the cover of Konoha Business Review. Toshiro let out a little scoff, muttering under his breath how he too had won awards at his alma mater too.

Sakura didn’t know a thing about Director Uchiha. She had applied for the internship on a lark, received an interview invitation that day, interviewed the next and received the offer later on that afternoon. She had directed her research to the company itself and its subsidiaries, not the actual director himself and knew nothing other than his name.

The elevator doors opened with a gentle ‘ ding! ’ and the interns were greeted by a beautiful lobby - dark marble floors and a wood panelled wall feature, the Uchiha Enterprise logo emblazoned upon it. An attractive woman was shuffling papers around at the reception desk, looking up as they exited the elevator.

“Hi Akane, I’m doing an office tour for our new interns.” Takaya-san gestured to their group, “Is the Director here?”

“He should be. I don’t have any appointments for him and I haven’t seen him leave.” Akane said with a warm smile.

“How’s his mood?” Takaya-san whispered.

“Well, Keiko didn’t get his coffee order wrong for once so I’d say it’s as good as you’ll get.” she said quietly, before pushing a few buttons on the phone. “Keiko? Let Director Uchiha know that the new interns are here taking their tour.”

“Uh… sure.”

黑

Seriously, it’s not fucking difficult to get a damn coffee order correct.

Sasuke paced around in his office, the takeaway cup from Milk Grind in his hands. Getting Keiko to grab him his daily dose of caffeine was like playing Russian Roulette - you never knew which one she’d come back with. She’d come back with long blacks, short blacks, cappuccinos, flat whites (an Australian specialty that Milk Grind prides itself on), flavoured lattes. The list goes on. Once she came back with an iced latte (despite his request for a hot drink) and another time she came back with a hot chocolate (which didn’t even have caffeine in it!).

Kakashi probably thought it was funny, hiring him an executive assistant that couldn’t follow instructions. However he didn’t really have a legitimate reason to terminate Keiko’s employment. Even though Keiko seemed to be incapable of remembering his coffee order, she was doing the rest of her job to a reasonable level.

His intercom buzzed. Speak of the devil .

“Director, the new interns are here in the lobby. On their tour.” she drawled lazily.

“I’m busy Keiko. Give them my apologies, I’ll arrange another time to meet them.”

The intern program had been overhauled by his brother during his term as Director. No longer were interns delegated menial tasks like photocopying and fetching coffee, they were given actual work. His reasoning was that interns were an excellent way of finding untapped talent - how were we supposed find out if they were talented if all they’re made to do is stand guard at the photocopying machine? His brother also went out of his way to make sure that new employees were given tours of the office - including the executive floor.

While his brother may not have minded new employees poking around his office, he certainly did.

He wasn’t Itachi. When would anyone get that?

黑

Sakura had been put into a software development team as a business analyst. Her fellow interns were also doing business analyst work, including the insufferable Toshiro. The faint silver lining being was that he was in a different team which limited their interactions some.

Her work was challenging and her colleagues were all friendly and accommodating. On the whole, she had no complaints except for the frequency of the coffee runs mandated by the Team Leader. It also hadn’t helped that Sakura decided to get the coffee from a local coffee house called Milk Grind instead of Starbucks - the team loved the coffee so much that it was decided that it would fall on her shoulders to get coffee and snacks.

Still, they were a nice excuse to get some fresh air during the day (even if she got fresh air on an average of 3-4 times a day). This coffee run included 7 lattes (one regular without sugar, one regular with a single sugar, one with skim milk, two with almond milk, one caramel and one iced) and snacks. She had become quite adept at carrying all the coffees and snacks back to the office, a talent that she wasn’t sure if she should be proud of or not.

“What will it be this time, Sakura?” a roguish looking barista asked, leaning on the counter. When you come down for coffee runs multiple times a day, you make fast friends with the staff.

“Hi Kiba.” She rattled off the list and added a chai latte for herself. Kiba had convinced her to try a chai latte and was pleasantly surprised by the sweet spiciness and had been ordering them since. “Oh and I’ll take three of the chocolate chunk cookies, three almond croissants and two of the raspberry slices.”

“Woah, not watching the scale are you?” Kiba laughed with a wink.

“Not in the slightest.” she quipped back, grinning.

Sakura sat down at one of the tall tables while she waited for her gigantic order. Aside from the fresh air, she enjoyed watching the people at Milk Grind because you’d encounter a wide range of people, from caffeine deprived corporate slaves to ironic hipsters in flannel to hypebeasts flexing their new Keezys.

Her eyes fell squarely on one person though. A dark haired man, dressed smartly in a crisp white shirt, navy slacks and shoes the colour of cognac. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, showing off his forearms. His side profile showed a high nose and a well defined jawline which gave way to-

Is that a piercing?

His ear was pierced with a black flat button stud.

'Damn’ was the only thought that came into her head. Her eyes traced his face again. For a man he had surprisingly delicate features and yet, when you pieced it all together it was perfect in every masculine way.

“Here you are, mate. Latte with one sugar.” the Australian bartender said, handing the tall dark haired stranger his drink. “See ya later.”

The handsome stranger raised his takeaway cup as a gesture of thanks.

Realising she had been staring just a second too long, she averted her eyes away, fighting the blush that was rushing to her cheeks. She suddenly found much interest in the bags of coffee beans for sale as the man walked past. She began to wonder about him - what did he do? Did he work in an office? Is he even from around here?

“Hey Sakura! I’ve got your order!” Kiba called out to her a few moments later.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Sakura startled, knocking over half the little bags of coffee beans on the shelf in her surprise.

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