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silkendandelion · 5 days ago

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The Last Cowboy Song, a Fallout fanfiction

Part two of Born and Raised In Black and White

ao3 link

Words: 9.9k

Genre: Action, angst, character study, hopeful ending

Pairing: Implied Arcade Gannon/Original Male Character, Mentioned Past Arcade Gannon/Courier

Rated: Mature for graphic violence, religious themes, implied/referenced torture, non-descriptive threat of rape/non-con

Summary: Darling escaped the Legion over a year ago, but after an ambush on the Colorado border, he is captured again. Arcade, believing it's his fault, follows Kane's lead to get him back. A doctor, a super soldier, and an eyebot walk into a Legion camp: it's not the setup to a joke, it's their only hope to get their cowboy back.

AN: The song Darling sings is an old hymn, and I prefer this version the most

~*~

The forest was getting thinner. At the furthest reaches of the horizon, deep inside the setting sun, the evergreen trees gave way to rusty red rock.

“I’ll miss Colorado,” Darling said, and Kane nodded.

“How far do you think we are from the Utah border?” Arcade asked.

Beneath the shelter of his hat, Darling assessed the land with a squint. “Day or two. Why? You eager to get to Legion territory?”

“More like the opposite. I want to know how much longer I have to enjoy the walk.”

Suddenly, Darling’s squint caught something unseen, and he frowned deep. “… Here is fine. Guys—let’s camp for the night.”

“Already?” Arcade touched his glasses, puzzled. Whatever Darling’s tracker eyes had spotted on the horizon obviously worried him enough to halt their march but he didn’t say what. Just as well, since Arcade preferred not to speculate on such things.

Darling gestured to an eroded hill, too shallow to be called a cave, and therefore they didn’t worry about it being occupied as they set down their packs.

“He’s right.” Kane turned a log over with his boot. “The last rad-stags for miles will be in these woods.”

“Gecko will keep better in the heat. Or Death Claw.” Darling billowed his shirt, sweating despite the breeze, and roaming fingertips brushed the pistol on his hip.

“You act as if we have many leftovers.”

“Still,” he sighed.

“I’ll get a fire started—”

“NO,” Darling snapped at Arcade. Immediately, he flinched, guilty, before folding back into his usual, pleasant drawl. “Even this far from the border, Legion patrols are not unheard of. Not worth the risk.”

Instantly, Arcade understood the shape of the cowboy’s anxiety, his itchy fingers seeking his pistol and restless gaze scanning every rock and bush and tree.

“You’re worried they’ll try to take you in?”

Darling’s status as a Legion defector had been one of their first campfire discussions. Ever honest, he gave up the information freely, just as Kane offered equally free the fact of his defection from the Enclave. For Arcade to trust them, to feel comfortable giving them aid and showing them his back in a firefight, they gave him the short versions the first moment they could.

“I am all that’s left of my family,” Darling told him. “I was headed north to the reservation, hoping they might let me in to settle down… Legion picked me up instead, sold me as a soldier-slave to the emperor of the East: Nero. Five years I spent in that Fort, locked up and—Kane found me actually. He raided the Fort, almost killed me too until he saw I was manacled to the floor. The rest you know.”

No one would ever blame a former slave for being nervous but, besides the fact that worry was contagious, Arcade wasn’t used to seeing him so unsettled. Kane wore his trauma like an itchy coat, undetectable until you came close enough to brush the fiberglass sleeves and you wondered how he can stand it. But Darling, Arcade watched him grind his molars together, wearing a hole in the grass as he bounced the heel of his boot—

He was terrified.

“We have to cook the meat, Darling. Then we can put out the fire,” Kane said with no room for further argument.

“Fine. I’m going to get wood. Can’t sit anymore.” He stood and Arcade rushed to his side.

“I’ll go with you. Said it yourself, can’t be too careful.”

“Yeah.” Darling’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, and suddenly that famous cowboy grin was back. “I pity anybody who’s on the business end of that plasma pistol of yours.”

“I certainly won’t be intimidated.” Arcade puffed, pleased to be complimented by the decided gunslinger of the group.

The deadliest? No, that went to Kane, but nobody else Arcade knew could shoot the cherry off a raider’s cigarette, or the reservations off any willing lover. Just Darling.

“Kane, take ED-E hunting with you,” Darling called back over his shoulder. “Don’t go anywhere alone.”

“I do not need the assistance.”

“I didn’t ask if you needed it. I said don’t go alone.”

Kane had nothing else to say as he disappeared into the treeline, luckily ED-E followed orders just fine, and Darling’s shoulders relaxed the rest of the way.

~*~

Five shots, Darling counted the bullets in his last magazine. Course, he could always go back to camp and get a fresh clip, but they were almost done anyway. No sense doubling back, and he was feeling bold enough to admit that he did feel better with the good doctor around.

Because he was a crack shot? Not completely. Kane was fine company, really he was, but he only said what needed to be said. He never reached across the divide to stretch and massage a friendship like friendly people did… or lonely people. Arcade laughed at his jokes, had his own witty retorts ready, and (perhaps because of his fondness for learning) was content to let Darling go on and on about the things only lonely cowboys care about.

“The Hoof is over a hundred miles wide in some places, up from the ocean, ‘round most of Texas, some of Mexico. Without Farriers leading people and supplies through, it would have choked us out centuries ago.”

“Was your father also a Farrier?”

“Nah. Daddy Walker was a Marshall, closest thing we have to law down there. After mama got pregnant with me, he staked himself a piece of land just outside of the Tri-City Commonwealth… I would have been happy to die on that little farm.”

Arcade watched him squint through the trees like if he looked far enough he might see their house over the next ridge, and Arcade imagined a family, mother, father, maybe a baby, all waiting for Darling in a green field. A fantasy lost on the wind as quick as it came. And yet, against his better judgment and manners, he wanted to know.

“What happened to them? Your family.”

“All gone by the time I left for the Hoof. Raiders, disease, old age, all through no fault of their own.”

Tragedy never failed to remind Arcade how little he always had to say. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s kind of you. Not to say I don’t miss them, course I do, but I already said goodbye. I left four white crosses up on that hill, took what I could carry, and the rest is for the wastes. I won’t go back.”

“It’s still your family’s land. There’s a house waiting for you.”

“Doesn’t feel right to bring people through a door where my father won’t be there to show them the trick for the water pump, where mama will never cook again. My brother’s rifle is probably still sitting by the back door, and I won’t be the one to fire it. Maybe it would be the right thing to do, to raise a baby in the room where my sister lived for just a year, but it’s not my house anymore. If the land is waiting for someone, it isn’t me.”

Again, Arcade’s words failed him, and the quiet between them stretched until Darling found the strength to put his smile back on.

“I’ll take you to Texas some day, if you want.” He brushed the brim of his hat. “Got a cabin on the northern border. Water clean enough to swim.”

“Mm,” Arcade hummed happily. “Why can’t Kane be looking for a GECK there?”

“If you can convince him a little vacation is in order, I’ll have us there by next week.”

“Oh. You seem to have me confused with someone else, I’m a doctor, not a miracle worker.”

Laughter warmed them both, and a quiet (comfortable this time) rustled between the trees. It wasn’t often Arcade laughed, but he was getting used to Darling being the cause. Even when times were hard.

“You sure you don’t want me to carry anything?” Darling asked. Arcade just adjusted the firewood in his arms with no intention to hand it over.

“It’s fine. I’m not the best at picking out good wood anyway, nevermind that I’m the stronger of the two of us.”

“Is that so?” Darling chortled. “I think we’re pretty evenly matched, Dr. Gannon.”

“I’m taller.”

“By your forelock.” He met Arcade’s grin with his own. “Boxing champion of Buena Vista, were you?”

“All I’m saying is that by definition, I am heavier. Therefore, my swing has more momentum.”

Darling hummed in his chest, still smiling as he assessed the doctor’s biceps for himself with an appreciative squeeze. If Arcade flexed the tiniest bit to satisfy his own ego, he was hoping Darling didn’t call him on it.

The forest air had cooled with the setting sun, but it wasn’t the chill that made Arcade shiver. Their already lazy pace slowed to a stop, and Darling’s voice dropped to a murmur.

“My my. You’ve been holding out on me. Strong man like you can chop the firewood instead of gathering it up. Course, you can’t wear a shirt.”

“It’s less impressive with my shirt off, I assure you. Permanent sunburn and all that… Maybe I can watch you do it instead, since you’re almost as strong as me. Even tan, too.”

“And my cute butt. Everyone always forgets that one.”

Arcade puffed out a chuckle, he really couldn’t remember the last time anyone made him laugh twice in one day.

“You know, Kane won’t come looking for us until he gets bored. Could take awhile.”

The offer in Darling’s smokey brown eyes said “hook, line, and sinker”, all Arcade had to do was tell him he wanted to be reeled in. Something he hadn’t told anyone since the Mojave. Still, he couldn’t deny he felt it, head buzzing and warm where Darling breathed against his chin, that familiar tingle on the end of his tongue that made him want to close the gap.

He might have done it too, if not for the bullet in his chest.

CRACK.

A gunshot split the trees, spewing red from Arcade’s shoulder and knocking him back. Darling watched him stagger, his shock spattered with his friend’s blood, and his Desert Eagle was in his hand before he could flinch.

“Take him alive! Kill the other one!”

A patrol of legionnaires surged on them, and Darling felt time slow. He hardly experienced it anymore, that oily, suffocating place between life and death, except for when things were truly fucked.

One, two-three, four, five, he counted legionnaires, and fired off five shots. The first hit the man who shot Arcade right between the eyes, and the second passed through the same hole in his skull. The third and fourth killed two more, both of them in the neck, a known weakness of legion armor.

The fifth missed. It sailed wide by the man’s ear. He raised his axe over his head as Darling thought to pray, and then a burst of green plasma shots ripped through his haze. Down went the legionnaire, his axe fallen beside him.

The world slammed into forward motion, and Darling skidded to his knees beside Arcade.

“Are you okay?!”

He held his defender awkwardly in his off hand while his other arm hung limp, too painful to move with his splintered collarbone. He sat up by himself, hauled to his feet only by Darling’s help.

“I’m okay—I’m fine. You killed them all? I only heard five shots.”

“One missed.” Darling’s relieved smile tilted. “Sorry, my aim ain’t so perfect when I’m worried about somebody.”

Arcade’s brow scrunched, and the rest of the blood in his face drained away. Eyes swimming, he staggered, hand clenched in Darling’s jacket.

“S-six, Dar—ling, six.”

“What—”

The sixth legionnaire, a bulky, brutally tall man ripped Darling out of his arms. Without help, Arcade’s balance crumbled and he fired through his own bleariness, hoping to not hit the cowboy as he struggled. Darling kicked and thrashed, gnashing his teeth, swearing for all he was worth until—

Until the ropes around his wrists cinched tight with a thwip.

Realizing how volatile his capture was, the legionnaire didn’t waste more than a swat on Arcade, backhanding him with his own gun so hard his teeth cracked and he flopped to the dirt.

That was their first mistake, that they didn’t bother to check Arcade was actually dead. Head throbbing and unable to move just yet, but alive. Through the black, bleary haze of his consciousness, as Arcade waited for the world to stop spinning, he heard Darling scream.

He had never heard another human being make that sound. Deep, deep from his belly, primal and begging for help. Someone, anyone. Usually, such a sound is followed by death, but Arcade heard what they said.

Take him alive.

It was his only comfort as he peeled himself out of the dirt, spitting grit and drool onto the rucked grass. A few paces away lay Darling’s hat and his Desert Eagle, bright silver and spattered with blood. He tucked it into his waistband, even with the thought that he would be useless with it.

They took him. Right out of Arcade’s hands, he had… he promised to keep him safe, didn’t he?

Not with so many words. Now, he wished he had.

“Darling… K-Kane, Kane! KANE!” He summoned the strength to shout, to place one foot in front of the other. His head swam, stinging fingernails the only thing clinging him upright to the trees but he couldn’t stop, not until he got back to camp.

Kane found him halfway, and Arcade wondered if he heard him shout or if he just smelled the blood.

“Kane! Darling, he… he—ACK!” Kane, ever the soldier, snatched him by the front of the shirt and slammed a stimpak unceremoniously into the wound.

“GOD! Fuck fuck shit,” Arcade panted and puffed, eyes squeezed tight against the fading pain. His bones fused, blood vessels mended while Kane’s stern face burned into him.

His face, those red eyepieces like laser sights on the Enclave helmet Kane almost never took off except to bathe and eat. He looked even more eerie with ED-E floating behind his head, more Enclave technology to demonize his aura.

“What happened? Was it Legion?”

“They ambushed us. Said they needed him alive.”

“Show me. Did you take any prisoners?”

“It wasn’t exactly a priority at the time,” Arcade snapped. He rolled out his shoulder, administering a second stimpak while they walked.

“Save the stims. We will need them.”

“Optimistic about our chances?”

“No. For information.”

They found a single legionnaire left between the bushes, the one Arcade had shot. He looked dead from a few feet away but not goo-ified, and Kane brushed for a pulse before jamming a stimpak under his breastplate.

The man screamed awake, quieting when Kane hoisted him upright my his armor. He dangled him by the rigid leather, with the man’s neck forced to bend back or press forward into a scalpel-sharp kukri knife.

“What are you doing?” Kane barked. Those burning laser sights zapped Arcade from his post-adrenaline stupor. “Tie his limbs.”

Kane tightened the blade when he squirmed. “Where are you taking the cowboy?”

The soldier struggled against his bonds, luckily Arcade’s knot-tying skills were second to none. His hands shook, of course the doctor wasn’t used to being part of torture interrogations, but he was nothing if not a quick learner. And he knew to look away when Kane moved the knife elsewhere.

“Where?” He asked again.

“Go to hell. No one escapes the Legion.”

Kane wordlessly began to set up a stimpak, and Arcade watched him methodically tie a tourniquet, adjusting the drip and choosing a vein like he was a doctor himself. How much medical training did he have?

Maybe his skills were never intended to be used to help people, and Kane was just a complicated collection of weapons being used to heal instead of harm. Times like these, you couldn’t forget their original purpose.

“Do you tell stories in the Legion? Have you heard of Harrisburg?”

His eyes widened but he gave no answer. So Kane tried again.

“I held Harrisburg, Illinois against the Legion for four years, until there were only four of us. We were all that remained after a strategic retreat left us behind. But I could not let my brothers die… Do you know what Legion in the east fear most?”

Arcade watched him flip the blade to carve into the meat of the legionnaire’s bicep. Finally, he spoke, just to scream and spit at Kane that he would never talk.

“For him, you will,” Arcade thought as his stomach clenched and he felt sweat trickle down the side of his neck.

“They fear the trees. Worried they will look up and see their soldiers hanging from the branches by their entrails. Alive. And with a man in black giving them stims to keep them screaming. Screams kept the Legion away, kept my brothers safe. Now, you have taken my friend. If I have to make a new forest with you as the first tree—”

“T-there’s a camp. Few miles west of here, a small one. They will take him there.”

“No,” Arcade almost shouted. “The emperor wants him back, they’ll set up a meeting. Where will it be?”

“Don’t know. Only the Praetorian’s have read the orders. C-can contact Nero.”

“Damn it… Okay,” was all Arcade said. Kane stayed quiet.

“It’s only just getting dark. We can get to the camp hopefully after most of them are asleep. Deal with the scouts and—” Arcade flinched when his thoughts were broken by a wet crack.

He hadn’t been looking, only had a guess to how Kane did it. Brutally efficient, some kind of twisted mercy. His stomach still churned from the story of Harrisburg, how could he trust Kane now?

How did he trust the courier, who extincted Omertas after one disagreement? Bloody men were a constant in his life, and he would be an even bigger fool to not admit he had never felt safer than in the company of good, bloodied men.

“Why did you kill him? He told us what he knew,” Arcade tried. Even to his own ears it sounded weak.

“He was never going to live. To speak was the price for a quick death.”

Arcade gathered his wits, his nerves, while he watched him walk from body to body looking for anything useful. Muttering something about “useless healing powder”.

“Does Darling know about Harrisburg?” He said to Kane’s back.

In the silence that followed, they heard the quiet howl of some lonely, distant creature. “Yes. Does it bother you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you wish to leave?”

“I want to get Darling back.”

“Then we agree. Hurry.”

~*~

SOME MILES WEST, UNNAMED LEGION CAMP

Darling had intended to make them work harder to get him to a secondary location, until he worried what dragging his feet would do to the gecko boots Kane made for him. So, he reluctantly trudged forward, one foot in front of the other, and only such. More troops had surged on their location after he and Arcade were separated, and Darling walked into the small camp flanked by a group of legionnaires, unfortunately, both taller and stronger than himself.

Seemed Nero was learning, and only sent his best after the wayward cowboy.

Even without his pistol, Darling had spent 5 years in the same drills as the Praetorians, turning a lean 20-something fit for crossing hectares with ease into a honed warrior with the tools of a boxer and, perhaps his most dangerous weapon—his unfiltered hatred.

Murmurs rippled through the camp as they marched Darling in, towards the fire where he was expected.

“I didn’t believe the rumors.”

“What is he wearing?”

“You look like shit, Achillides.”

Darling finally dragged his gaze from the sand when he heard the familiar voice. Legs like a bull, a growling, arrogant voice, and a Praetorian’s golden breastplate, polished to a mirror:

“Romulus.”

“They avoided your face when they wrestled you into those ropes,” he said coolly, touching Darling’s chin with his fingertip just to make him wrench away.

“I’ll kill all of you,” Darling hissed at him. “How far do you think you’ll get?”

“Captives don’t ask questions and they get no answers.” Romulus’ thick, corded arms crossed over his wide chest, and the sideways tick of his mouth spoke of mocking.

“Put him in my tent. I have some time before the others arrive.”

Darling’s heart jumped into his throat, and he wrenched so hard against the soldier’s holding him he fell to the ground. He spat out the sand that splattered his face, attempting to crawl on his chest and knees.

“You can’t even hold onto him?! Worthless, all of you,” Romulus’ growled.

Just one of his meaty hands was enough to hoist Darling off the ground with a pained cry. All his weight sloshed onto his shoulders, twisted behind him by the ropes holding his forearms to his lower back.

“Romulus, the emperor—”

He wheeled on the soldier who dared to speak, so tight into his space they could see the dirt in the wrinkles of his scowl. “Get back in your place. And bring me a pot of boiling water.”

“… s-sir.”

In his tent, Romulus dropped Darling beside his bed roll like a loaded duffel, hard enough he coughed and choked.

“The fuck are you doing?” Darling panted, managing (barely) to keep his voice level. He could imagine what kind of pain a hulking mountain like Romulus would deal out, but he would not let him enjoy it.

“Nero will cut off your balls for hurting me. If he wants to punish me, he’ll do it himself.”

It wasn’t a bluff, not really, when he was correct that Nero was viciously territorial, even for things (people) that weren’t his.

What Darling failed to consider was that Nero’s lust for revenge over the last year and a half Darling had been missing, had begun to outweigh his possessiveness. Yes, he wanted his Legate back, more than he needed air, but he wanted him docile, limping, begging for sanctuary in the warm, safe lap of his emperor.

So Romulus’ orders read, according to the papers in his pocket.

“If I say it was a cocky recruit who busted you up, who do you think he’ll believe? I won’t miss this opportunity to have you alone, the last time you’ll be alone with anyone other than Nero until you finally die.”

“You like me that much, Romulus?” Darling sneered with a mocking smirk. “Normally, I’d say you should’ve said something, but I always preferred your brother.”

He cracked his palm against Darling’s cheek and he coughed, rocking his head to clear the ringing in his ears. “You never deserved to be Legate. A slave put in a Praetorian’s armor. Why?”

His meaty hand snatched Darling’s face by the jaw, curling his nails to watch his eyes water. “Because of this face? You are the only mistake Nero has ever made. He wants you back, and he’ll have you in whatever condition I decide.”

Darling panted through his nose, brown eyes steeled to give nothing away… until the belt. Romulus crammed his thumb into Darling’s jaw, forcing it wide enough to get the leather between his teeth, and pinning his tongue back when it cinched tight around the back of his skull.

“There it is. I’ve never seen you afraid before. Haughty and sarcastic, even paranoid. Never afraid. Let’s find out what agony looks like on you.”

~*~

“Remus, sir!” The legionnaires around the campfire jumped to greet the Praetorian, a man about Romulus’ age but leaner, with a dull, scratched breastplate and a gentle voice to greet his fellow soldiers.

“Rest, gentleman, don’t get up for me. You sent word Achillides has been found?”

“Yes, Remus. Earlier this evening by a patrol. Romulus received him.”

“Where is Romulus?”

The legionnaires exchanged nervous looks, and Remus gave them time to formulate an answer. “H-he’s with Achillides. Requested hot water, and that they be left alone—”

They gasped when Remus burst through them, sprinting to the larger tent that he knew Romulus would have erected for himself. As he neared, all he heard was Romulus’ brutal exertion. The desert silence chilled him.

He ripped the ties off the tent’s flap, his eyes snapping to Romulus’ fist, streaked with blood, raised for another blow, and Remus gripped him by the neck to wrench him away. For a smaller man, he threw Romulus clear across the tent, into their supply crates with a crash.

“ROMULUS, STOP!”

He rolled off the broken crates, groaning once for his pride, and then the tent was quiet once more. Distantly, Remus heard the shuffling of Romulus’ retreat, but did not look away from his victim.

He knelt beside Darling, hesitant to touch him where he lay curled, too exhausted and battered to move beyond his laboring breaths. He was naked, streaked with wet, bloodied sand and wounds, some from a blade, others from fists. A despaired, obligated glance told Remus he had not been raped, but that was all.

Darling flinched, believing another blow was coming, until the twine around his wrists and feet slackened, snipped by a clean, sharp knife.

“It’s all right, Achillides. He won’t hurt you anymore.”

His shoulders popped as they uncoiled. Darling squinted through the swelling on his face, the fresh and dried blood. Even with bleary, red eyes he knew that voice. Warm in a sea of cold, barked orders.

“Remus. What are you doing here?”

“Try not to speak. Your mouth is still bleeding.” Remus turned at the sound of the tent flap, quieter this time, and gestured for the hot water Romulus ordered to be brought with rags.

Cooled to the temperature of warm tea, the damp heat easily wiped away both grime and fear as he soaked the cloth and began to wipe Darling’s face. When he was mostly clean, Remus poured a portion into a cup, holding it to his lips.

“Rinse and spit.”

Instead, Darling grabbed his wrist, drinking the cup empty and ignoring the patient sigh above him.

“You’re going to get a stomach ache, drinking bloody water. Here, open your mouth and I’ll put the rest in some clean water for you.”

He took a pinch of healing powder with one hand, and pressed his thumb to Darling’s unyielding chin with the other, just firm enough to demonstrate he wouldn’t appreciate being disobeyed while trying to help him. “You’ve never liked the taste, Achillides. No one does, so don’t be obstinate… There. It will work better under the tongue.”

Darling accepted the bitter powder with a grimace. Slowly, it seeped into his veins, melting the edges of his vision and dulling his pain until he was too weak to remain sitting up, even for Remus’ tender attention. He tried to lay down, aiming for the pile of his ruined civilian clothes until Remus caught him.

“Lie on the bed roll. The men will bring you something clean to wear.”

“It stinks of Romulus’ battle musk.”

“You would prefer the ground?” Remus allowed himself a chuckle. He continued to wash Darling’s body clean, making an entire pile of red rags, and eventually helped him into a tunic, just long enough for his modesty.

He was strapping sandals onto his feet when Darling finally spoke up, weak hands brushing the braided cords across Remus’ breastplate. “Someone got a promotion… I don’t know that one.”

“Chief Praetorian. By Nero’s decree, the others follow my command in his absence. A flashy excuse, when in reality he has refused to fill the Legate’s throne since you left.”

Darling gripped the cord, knuckles creaking, and Remus uncurled his hands with soft sweeps of his fingertips.

“Why did you help me?”

“Because Romulus is an animal, and I am one of two men who can bring him to heel.”

“You had him back on his leash an hour ago.”

Remus took his gaze away, leaning back on his heels while Darling watched his jaw work beneath his cheek. “Because even prisoners deserve their dignity. And fairness.”

“So you admit I’m trapped here.”

“Your current status would not affect how I treat you.”

“You’re dodging the subject—”

“Achillides—”

“Stop calling me that—”

“My orders are to bring you to our outpost in Moab. A day’s walk from here at a reasonable march, so in your condition it will be two days. Nero will arrive soon after. And you will go with the emperor back to Ft. Carson for… rehabilitation.”

“Is THAT the word Nero used? Like I’m the sick one?!”

“Stop it, Achillides.”

Tears welled in Darling’s eyes, stinging the cuts on his face as they ran down his cheeks and neck. He believed such an emotional display would send the Praetorian away but Remus just sat quietly in that perfect posture, waiting for Darling’s sobs to slow.

God, he was excruciatingly handsome. Kind. The picture of a perfect soldier, with mercy on one hip and his pistol on the other. When Darling used to fantasize about escaping, fleeing the Fort in the middle of a warm night, it was always Remus who ran beside him.

His cheeks flushed not with heat but shame, because he has always known better.

“Nero hopes to reinstate you as Legate. Achillides, Legate is a powerful status, you will not go hungry, unclothed. The Fort has running water… Hell, even as a Decani you would be taken care of. Part of a group, finding safety in numbers. So many people are not so lucky.”

“Is that the prayer you recite every time you raze an innocent tribe and absorb the remains?”

“You never saw me before Caesar accepted my tribe. Romulus and I… this is the best ending of that story. Whether you want to be Legate or not, you and I both have our orders.”

He pushed off his knees to stand. “I will follow you, Achillides. All you have to do is take your place.”

“Remus, I want to go home,” Darling croaked. He swore he would never beg a legionnaire but, when lying before a man he knew to be capable of kindness, he believed it was worth a try.

“Please help me.”

Remus paused in the tent’s opening, just long enough Darling could see the ache in his warm, brown eyes. And then he was gone.

“Remus, sir? Do you think he will eat?” A soldier approached him, holding a portion of the night’s supper.

“Offer it to him, but if he refuses don’t worry.” Remus looked over his shoulder when he heard the thundering footsteps of his second.

“Still alive, is he?” Romulus sneered. “After your playing healer? Perhaps you’ll desert us next, wife in tow.”

Remus’ carven face cracked just a fraction, what the sadistic Romulus considered more than enough for a win. “Pick your cock up off the ground and piece together what remains of your rank. We leave within the hour.”

Romulus snorted, having the decency to be insulted. Beside him, another soldier felt brave enough to speak (much could happen so long as Remus was asserting his authority).

“Now, sir? It’s the middle of the night.”

“Our orders were to leave at dawn,” agreed Romulus.

“Achillides’ words were ‘I want to go home’. Which of you brought him in?”

The bulky soldier stepped forward, and Remus’ gaze traced the cuts on his arms and face. Trees, not combat. “Just me, sir. Everyone else was killed.”

“Meaning his friends are still out there. Well enough to pursue?”

“Wounded, sir.”

“Then we have accounted for the time he has been here so far. Those of you who are to join me for Moab, those orders stay. The rest of you, have this camp moved by first light. I will not waste any more lives to this errand.”

The camp immediately jumped to obey him, and Romulus smirked. “As you command.”

~*~

Dawn came, a pale blue creeping up over the horizon when Kane and Arcade made it to the spot where the camp had been. Evidence remained, of course, the ground rucked where tent poles had been ripped up, sweeps in the sand where tracks were erased. Evidence of life, movement, but not of destination or even direction.

Kane’s eyed combed the treeline, the rocky horizon, for any and every clue. He appeared to find none. And after a few moments, he heard the compartmentalizing of Arcade’s brain, pushing down his stress and anxiety into a bag he could carry.

“We’re going to find him. Right, Kane?” He asked, chest coiled tight. Traveling with the courier had always been dangerous, dire even, but he always had a plan. The clever, crazy kind, any kind.

Kane’s silence terrified him.

After a long minute, Arcade filled it with his own whisper, too close to a sob. He hated crying. “… It’s my fault. Kane, they ripped him out of my hands—!”

“Quiet. Pull yourself together.”

“You don’t get to say that to me!”

From someone stoic like Kane, it sounded too calm and reasonable, like Judah used say. On the worst nights, when the remnants were awake until dawn with fingers on the trigger, Judah would tuck Arcade under his arm, just as the shouts of soldiers grew louder, too close to their carved, cramped hiding place.

“Keep it together, Arcade. You’re doing great, just a little longer,” he would say with a gentle, kind rumble. Was he lying for Arcade’s comfort? Maybe. So what? Coming from Kane, the order clogged his throat, he was so, so tired of keeping it together.

“The least you can do is pretend to care he’s gone.” Arcade bit out, feeling sand in his molars.

“No, I can find him. That is the least I can do.” He turned, and Arcade blanched at having those eyes back on him, even through the helmet.

“You don’t like me, and that is what I do not care about. Darling is my friend, he will survive because I cannot fail. As will you.” His slow words rolled off his tongue one at a time, each syllable deliberate and measured. Assured, at any cost.

And for the first time, Arcade caught a glimpse of eyes behind those red lenses. Exhausted beyond measure. Worried.

Arcade’s shoulders relaxed minutely, the wrinkles on his forehead smoothing as he watched Kane kneel to the dirt.

“Look.”

His gloves held up a scrap of fabric, half-buried to not blow away and, unfortunately, too dirty to read. Above them, ED-E wheedled quietly.

“Yes, ED-E. Composition analysis,” Kane said, and a beam of light came out of a needle on the front of the Eyebot’s chassis. It whirred, scanning the fabric. After a microwave-like ding, it spritzed the strip of fabric with a liquid before shining a different light over it. “MOAB” began to glow in thin scrawl, and an electronic rhythm recited:

“Positive match. Organic. Biological. Human. Hemoglobin, plasma.”

“He wrote it in his blood,” Arcade whispered.

“Get out your map, Gannon. We will not lose him a second time.”

And as Arcade hurried to his feet to keep up with Kane already striding away in the correct direction, he believed him.

The Legion’s second mistake, regarding Darling’s capture, was that they hurt him.

~*~

“So… y’all know any good road songs?” Darling broke the quiet of their monotonous march.

The soldiers all gave each other awkward, sideways glances, except Remus who chuckled. “I’m afraid we don’t, Achillides.”

“We were not allowed music until Nero took over,” a second soldier ventured, testing the boundary.

“Oh, but now you’ve got records, holotapes—”

“Brother Caracalla just brought a jukebox to the Fort.” A third smiled, the confession bursting from him.

At the front, Darling watched Remus’ glower skeptically over his shoulder.

Smirking, he pushed his luck. “I picked back up my old guitar since you all last saw me, learned some new songs if you’re tired of counting the lizards.”

“We’d like that—”

“Yes, really—”

“Unless Remus objects, of course.”

“If he starts singing, we aren’t making it to Moab,” Romulus said beneath his breath.

“I have no objections,” Remus said finally. “Yet. That may change, Achillides.”

Darling held up his tied hands, showed the knot was still tight. “Not saying it’ll be life-changing, I mean I don’t have my guitar or anything cool to drink so,” he shrugged.

Another soldier held out his canteen.

“Figure of speech, baby, don’t worry about it,” said Darling, and they fumbled to put the cap back on.

“So? Regale us.” Remus considered the conversation closed, at least on his end, and he fixed his gaze back on the horizon.

When he first suggested it, Darling really hadn’t meant more than to annoy his captors, and hopefully pass some time under the warming sun and cloudless sky. But as he licked the healing cut on his lip, aware of a tightness coiling in his chest, the memory of his baptism came back to him.

In his little Texas town, everybody was “saved”. It was just part of their quiet way of life, tilling homestead farms and preaching to travelers that “kindness was next to godliness”. Personally, Darling didn’t recall church or god coming up in conversation in his own home outside grace over supper, or the murmured prayer over a feverish baby’s crib. But, he saw it when his daddy fixed a caravan’s cart for a bottle of cola, or when his mother used the last of her flour to take bread to the family down the road that their father wasn’t coming home.

And he heard it, like the ringing of an angel’s choir, when the town walked him down to the river the day he turned 16. They sang a hymn he never heard again, filling the space between the trees with what had to be love, his neighbors and strangers alike. The water babbled, clear as glass, cool on his legs as he let himself be walked in up to his waist.

Their old preacher submerged him once, saying words he couldn’t hear under the water. Coming up, Darling spluttered and coughed, grinning his apology at breaking the mood, but that old man he just smiled.

“Go with God, Shenandoah Walker. He’ll know what to do with you.”

Those rolling hills outside Killeen were as close to heaven as Darling had ever found.

Now, walking to Moab with hands bound, wearing only the Legion’s tunic and surrounded by too many troops to take alone, he wondered what version of baptism Nero had begun to prepare for him.

Did Kane find Arcade? Did they get his note? Or was this last march, captured for good and nowhere to go but into the river? Down into scalding water, with no one but Nero to receive his immortal soul.

Not so distantly, his shoulders ache, the punctures in his palms pulsing from enduring Romulus’ wrath, and his back bows with fatigue. He is so tired, this… this time his own body isn’t going to get him out of this. Kane already saved him once, for it to happen twice was… he didn’t want to know his odds.

“Have all your songs left you, Achillides?” said Remus.

And yet, if he was doomed to be remade, he would not let “Darling” vanish into the dark, and he would not go quietly. So he began to sing.

My latest sun is sinking fast, my race is nearly run, my strongest trials now are past, my trial has begun

Oh come, angel band, come and around me stand

Oh bear me away on your snow white wings to my immortal home

As Remus finally looked over his shoulder, he found Darling already staring at him, shining eyes filled with all the tears he could not shed. Not if Achillides was going to carry him from the river.

Oh bear my lung and heart to him, who bled and died for me, whose blood now cleanses from all sin and gives me victory

Oh come, angel band, come and around me stand

Oh bear me away on your snow white wings to my immortal home

Oh bear me away on your snow white wings to my immortal—

“Remus, sir. We’ve arrived.”

~*~

“At least it’s a small outpost,” Arcade said, crouched behind the rocks beside Kane and ED-E.

Beneath the cliff they laid upon, the outpost sat at the mouth of a canyon, a collection of barracks and one warehouse, crowded with machinery. The large tent near the rear implied a place to find healing or supplies, and in the center of the outpost was a mongrel pen leading to a fenced yard.

“They will have sent word of Darling’s capture already. More are coming.”

“Then we don’t have any time left.”

Above them, ED-E warbled quietly (sneak mode).

“ED-E, I really don’t think explosions are the answer,” Arcade snipped. “Rescue missions tend to try to avoid those.”

“He is right,” Kane declared, ignoring Arcade’s flabbergasted gape. “Look, Gannon.”

He grunted when Kane’s hand shot out, grabbing his face to turn him towards the warehouse. Under Caesar’s rule, technology had been kept strategically simple aside from refurbished weaponry and the occasional perk for officers. However, these soldiers were hard at work.

From the cliff, all of Arcade’s squinting couldn’t discern exactly what they were making, and if Kane noticed with his eagle eyes, he didn’t say. But—

“That is a LOT of fuel.” He marveled, and Kane nodded.

“Barracks made of wood. Getting dryer and dryer in the desert sun.”

Bee—beep-beep, ED-E wheedled above them.

“Yes, ED-E.” Arcade’s eyes narrowed. “You can light the match.”

~*~

“Welcome to Moab, Achillides,” said Remus. “Though you won’t see much of it. Nero’s escort will be here by this afternoon.”

The outpost wasn’t impressive by any measure Darling knew, merely tents and barracks, a mongrel pen where dogs of various shapes rolled and fought. One black-and-white dog cowered against the fence, pricking her nose on the wire as she fought to escape, and the handler yanked her back by her fur.

What intrigued Darling though, was the warehouse. Tall, it’s tower belching gray smoke, with barrels of oil stacked in couples along the roll-up door. Beyond that, rates filled the beds of their trucks, crates that stunk, he wrinkled his nose.

Remus’ call broke his thoughts as he waved for someone to come. Over the bustle of the camp, Darling didn’t catch their names, and a man and a woman in plain clothes rushed to the front.

“This man is to meet the emperor. He will be washed, shaved, and given polished armor.”

He glanced back at Darling. For a moment, he thought Remus might be regretting his decision, until Darling realized he was only studying his curls.

“… Do not cut his hair. It will be fine once he is clean.”

“Yes, sir. Should we remove his bonds?”

“You may, he will not run. Won’t you, Achillides?”

“Not until I’ve had my bath, no.”

Remus’ chuckle made his stomach flip, a gentle smile with clean teeth. “If you need anything, I will be around. Just call for me.”

“Yes, sir, Remus.” They began by loosing his bonds. “Achillides? Please, follow us.”

They led him behind their tent to a spout beneath the sky, and he bathed with a handmade soap that smelled of the local wildflowers, nettle, and aloe. The first attendant, the man, filled a bucket while the second, the woman, came around to his front. He closed his eyes to the sight of her breasts, their shape obvious under the cling of her thin, wet shirt, but the shik of a switchblade snapped them open.

Most women would protest if a man grabbed their wrist as hard as Darling did, but she just smiled down at him.

“I can shave myself.”

“We have no mirrors. I will be careful,” she said.

Deciding it wasn’t worth the fight, Darling allowed her to brush the blade up his neck and over his cheeks with the lather from the same soap. She tilted his head back and forth to check her work before offering the bucket to rinse.

The sound of scissors startled him again, and Darling grabbed the wrist of the first. “You said you wouldn’t cut my hair.”

“It is uneven. Sir.”

All at once, the rest of his fight left him, and Darling bowed his head to the metal comb in their gentle hands. Tiny pieces of hair tickled his shoulders, proof of their promise, and the first’s hands skimmed his back to rinse him clean.

The attendants heard no more protests, not when they combed his curls into a neat part, nor when they tilted his face to put aloe on his chin and sunburned nose.

“Smell. You like it?” The second offered a tin of hard oil, then smiled at Darling’s affirming hum.

When they rubbed the oil into his browned shoulders, down his arms and legs, he remained still. They strapped his pteruges to his waist (murmuring he was almost too tall for the only size they had), clasped his breastplate, and tied his focale, all with ease. And when they offered sandals, he lifted his feet.

“Isn’t he something?” The second grinned around her fingernail. “Achillides, can we ask you something?”

His wrist brushed his belt for a pistol that wasn’t there, met with the leather loops that most Legion reserved for knives and healing powder. “Yes?”

“Are you going to run now?”

He whipped his head to look at them, their twin smirks and knowing gaze.

“We know who you are. The great Achillides, Nero’s blade and joy, beautiful as carven marble.”

“Then you know that being unarmed doesn’t make me harmless,” said Darling, though his threat fell flat under the exhaustion of his dry throat.

“Tell us, son of Achilles and Patroclus, what’s so interesting about the sky?”

“… The—what?”

“You keep looking at the clouds and the cliffs, like you’re waiting for someone to run from the canyon and take you away.”

“Yes and forgive us for saying, mister Legate, but we have both felt your body. You hardly need a rescue party to go home.”

Darling stared at them, mouth agape, a bit like a fish on a hook that was just asked by the fisherman why he allowed himself to be caught. “Why are you doing this?”

“Our job is to create men that look like soldiers from the tribals that walk through that gate. We, frankly, have never been so entertained. Remus’ march, Praetorians and all, making a procession out of a summer day that had promised to be so hot and boring.”

“Yes, go escape. Get captured again, Achillides, so we can bathe you again.”

His coiled muscles twitched with the excited itch to flee. “If we meet again… let me buy you both a beer.”

“Rather you’d fuck us stupid.”

“Whatever you want.” Darling threw them both a grin over his shoulder.

He was dressed. Clean. Most importantly, anyone who wasn’t Remus wouldn’t question him walking around unsupervised. For all they knew, he was just another Praetorian—a lot of those around here lately.

Head down, no eye contact—no. No, head up, a Legate walks like they’re not trying to sneak out the goddamn front door. His only option, unfortunately. Too many men by the rear gate and that’s where the warehouse was, likely Remus would want to inspect operations while he was here. Darling swallowed, he had wanted to investigate what they were making but—

“Achillides?”

Remus stepped out of the tent ahead. They both froze, gauging the other, and even before Remus could shout for his men, when the intent was just a clench of his jaw, Darling knew he had been found out. If it wasn’t his luck, surely his wide, guilty stare gave him away.

Then before Remus could shout, an explosion from the rear of the camp cracked the air, and everyone either flinched or ducked to the ground.

Darling didn’t look, instead he bolted, dashing right out of Remus’ grip and sprinting off.

“GRAB HIM! Don’t let him get away!” A second boom drowned out his shout.

Just inside the rear gate, Arcade jerked his head up at ED-E, who weebled with glee. “Quit it! We have to escape with our lives too!”

ED-E’s lasers had made quick work of the nearby gasoline cans, scattering the soldiers appropriately while the Eyebot and Arcade slinked along the back of the tents.

“Darling? Darling!” He tried to call without attracting attention, hushed beneath the commotion of people rushing to contain the flames.

Meanwhile, even in near panic (especially in panic), Remus directed the soldiers who ran to him in precisely delegated directions. “Get to the warehouse! Save the product, don’t bother with the fuel! Go!”

In the honed haze of Remus’ battle senses, he filtered out needless stimulus, sparks on the wind, the shouting voices, to suddenly spot a body that didn’t belong, ducking from building to building and wearing a tan jacket with a medic’s patch.

“ED-E, can you go higher? Scan for Darling from abo—” The jingle of a shootout tune cut him off. Before Arcade could assess the danger, he thought to duck, good thing too or the bullet splintering the barracks wall above him would have gone right through his skull.

Legionnaire’s always gave Arcade pause, if only because most were trained exceptionally well, but this one—startlingly dark eyes that matched his hair and bronzed complexion, he looked like an animal. Not an insult either, in the way you would call a lion crouched in the grass an animal as a matter of plain fact. It made his blood run icy.

For once, Arcade listened to his gut and ran like hell. More bullets popped around his head, always so close, until a ricochet caught him in the leg. It halted his stride but not his momentum and flung him bodily into the street.

He rolled to his back, plasma defender ready—damn the sweat in his eyes—but it wasn’t an energy weapon that pierced the air. The sound of Kane’s Gauss rifle wasn’t one you forgot, or ever got used to. The shot whistled above Arcade, striking Remus’ square in the sternum and knocking him clean off his feet. From where Arcade lay, all he could see was Remus’ legs, but he didn’t get up.

“Arcade!” Darling cried, Voice cracking around his joy. Finally, he found him.

Looking like a million fucking caps, Arcade almost said out loud.

“Do I?” Darling’s grin turned soggy with his tears, and he knelt to help him up. “You look like the answer to my prayers.”

Sunshine on glossy curls, that awful, horrible armor highlighting all of his most objectify-able qualities—is he oiled up—and after not sleeping for two (almost three) days to rescue him, Arcade sure as hell wasn’t letting some higher power take all the credit. Not when he was the one with a bullet in his leg. His second bullet, mind you, since this fiasco started.

“Where’s Kane?” Darling asked.

“You didn’t hear that shot? He’s picking them off, we have to get—” Arcade was cut off by a second shot, and Darling lost his grip with how close the bullet whizzed by. He half-expected to see a piece of his hair fall away.

Following the bullet’s path, they found Romulus above them, staggering back with one massive paw clutched to his chest. He gritted his teeth, his own bewildered gaze tracking the shot to the rooftop. Despite the rifle’s sheer power, the magnetized bolt had lost momentum piercing the metal armor, and when Romulus ripped his breastplate free it was sticking out from his skin.

Darling’s face fell, jaw going slack as Romulus gripped the flat head, pulling it free from his pectoral muscle with a slick, sucking sound.

“Run.”

Arcade blanched, nodding along. “Yeah, fuck that.”

Faster than they could get to their feet, arms around the other, Kane leapt from the roof, and the gloves of his armor collided with Romulus’ fists in a crack that dwarfed his gun.

“Do you want me to stim your leg—” Darling gasped when Arcade gripped the front of his breastplate and dragged him along.

“Are we running or not?!”

The exasperation in Arcade’s voice made Darling laugh helplessly, half-hysterical as he followed. Just a little more. And from the clamor of the fight behind them, it wouldn’t be long before Kane brought up the rear. Each blow rang like a bell, sending physical shock-waves that cracked the dry, desert air.

ED-E zoomed up on the other side, beep beep-beep.

“Missed you too, ED-E,” Darling grinned.

The heat from the fire outpaced the sun above, distantly they heard the shouts of the legionnaires losing control of the flames. As they ran for the front gate, no one seemed foolish to try to stop them, more worried about their supplies engulfed in flames and accounting for their men.

In the clearing, Darling spotted the same mongrel pen from before, thankfully empty. Wait—not empty—the black-and-white dog dug frantically at the wire fence. She whimpered helplessly, scratching the dry ground with all her might but unable to squeeze her body free.

He took off, faster than Arcade could shout after him what the hell he was doing, and snatched a passing legionnaire by his armor, yanking him close in a surprising show of strength.

“Where’s the key? How do I get this gate open?!”

“Let—go of me! Fuck off!”

“Shit.” He tossed him away and surveyed the fence. No time to pick the lock, it didn’t even occur to him that ED-E’s laser could cut a hole, he just dropped to his knees and gripped the wire to rip it up and out.

Behind him, Arcade was just horrified it actually worked, and the dog squeezed out. She slipped in the dirt, terrified, disoriented, attempting to flee in the direction of the flames until Darling scruffed her and shoved her under his arm.

“Come on, let’s go!”

And to be perfectly clear, Arcade will never, ever admit to the sound he made when Darling shoved him under his other arm.

Only once they reached the gate did they stop to look back. Every soldier in the camp was either fighting the losing battle with the fire or had taken refuge in the canyon behind the camp. They waited a long moment, prepared to wait as long as it took to see Kane emerge, but the passing seconds brought no comfort.

Finally, only when it was becoming apparent someone had regrouped the legionnaires, did Kane wander out of the smoke.

He held his helmet (which had an alarmingly large dent), and his pale face was streaked completely on one side by blood. Kane had a bone structure Arcade couldn’t compare to anyone he’d ever met, with thin, feminine features and a smooth, inhumanly flawless complexion, though whether that was from being spared from the sun by his helmet or the genetic modification, nobody knew for sure.

A helmet he only ever took off to eat and bathe. The comfort of dinner, even pleasant conversation couldn’t get Kane to make any kind of expression, so to watch him now, his perfectly proportioned forehead creased with exertion, eyes bloodshot and wild, drops of blood sliding along his lips… Both Arcade and Darling chose to keep still.

“Is he dead? Romulus,” ventured Darling in the quiet.

“I did not check,” Kane huffed. “Move.”

~*~

Nobody knew how long they walked, far enough the last of the trees disappeared from the landscape and their legs could no longer carry them. More than far enough to be safe. Safe as they ever could be, hearing the lizards skitter along the sand and the distant buzz of irradiated insects inspecting the local plants.

They nested under a stone outcrop, with Arcade saying “damn it all” and lighting a fire with the first piece of brush that would hold a flame. He’d almost forgotten how cool the desert night’s were.

Darling was asleep the moment he laid still, sprawled on the bare ground with the dirty, rescued dog tucked inside his elbow and beneath his chin, like she wouldn’t be close enough to her savior until she was inside his ribs. It didn’t seem to be an issue and, for the first time since they were reunited, Arcade realized how wounded Darling was. Between the adrenaline and a bath, he hadn’t noticed the cuts on his face, splitting his bottom lip, and the mottled trails of bruises down his arms and legs.

Had they tortured him? Worse? When Darling woke, he would ask him if he wanted a stimpak, but for now they could all use some rest.

Across the fire, he watched Kane pour his canteen over his face (back to blank), scrub the blood off. Water dripped from his chin as he tried to warp his helmet, pity the dent wasn’t yielding because Arcade knew he probably needed it. No matter how little he gave away.

“First repair bench we find, Darling can fix it,” Arcade tried gently, picking at his nails.

Kane’s eyes narrowed the tiniest bit, still an acknowledgment, and Arcade felt emboldened to try again. “Do you want to get started on dinner? Plenty of geckos around that need cooking.”

Without a word, he was off, renewed in his purpose of providing for his friends. It made Arcade smile minutely, even as his brows furrowed with guilt. Kane cooked dinner and mended their clothes like it was his true purpose, to find a little patch in this wide, treacherous wasteland and take care of it, instead of killing everything that the Enclave ordered him to. He recalled Kane’s words:

Screams kept the Legion away, kept my brothers safe.

It was a primitive sentiment, powerful in the strength it lent him to have a friend willing to kill and maim so he might live. Good as it felt, he couldn’t shake the guilt of being an accessory to so much violence, a bit like deciding if it was right to keep feeding the feral dog who killed everyone who threatened you.

Then again, hadn’t he been an accessory for years already, sharing his food and his bed with a disturbed courier who killed every gangster in the Gomorrah because terrorism was excused but insulting Arcade was not?

“Are you going to leave after you eat?”

Arcade frowned up at him and tossed away the end of his fingernail. “Darling needs someone to monitor his condition.”

“And after he is well?”

A burdened sigh rolled out of him, Kane really wanted him to say it, didn’t he? “He might get hurt again. Even you can get hurt. So, you going to let me look at that knot on your head, or what?”

“We have no mirror—”

“Uh huh. Scoot over, big guy. Geez. Pain in my patella.”

“Your knees are weak because you do not engage in strength training—”

“Kane. Shut up.”

Blissfully, he did. And on the other side of the fire, Darling kept pretending to be asleep, even as a smile tugged at his split lip.

#fallout au #fallout rp #fallout oc #arcade gannon #caesar's legion #fallout new vegas #fnv #fallout fanfic #oc fanfiction #silkenspeaks

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lacefedora · 3 years ago

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If you’re still taking prompts: Space pirates?

I am! Thank you. so I hope you don't mind, this isn't going to exactly be Space Pirates... Instead it is based on @fishfingersandscarves 's Star Trek Au where Ed and Stede are members of the Maquis (a rebellion of federation citizens whose homeworlds and colonies were ceded to the Cardassians when the lines of the DMZ were drawn. The cardassians treat them very badly). Stede is half-betazoid and Ed's Bajoran.

This is based specifically on the info given in THIS picture! go reblog it!

"Ed..." Stede starts and looks up at Ed where he's lounged out on the little couch in Stede's temporary quarters... at least Stede assumed they were temporary. They would probably be gone after he said what he was going to say today.

"Ohh... you look serious. Come on." Ed says and he sits up, patting the seat next to him. "What has my co-captain so serious?" he asks, smirking at him. Stede feels his heart up in his throat. Fuck he was beautiful. Stede suddenly wishes his betazoid half had granted him empathy instead of useless intermittent telepathy... just something so he might be able to read this situation better.

"It's.. about that actually... Co-captains." Stede says and he sits down with him... any excuse to be close to Ed. Ed's frowning now and Stede just takes a deep breath. "I'mnotactuallyaCaptain." He says all on a rush.

Ed frowns at him again, carefully parsing out that jumbled sentence. "Not a... If you're not a captain what are you? I have eyes I saw your pips on your uniform."

"You didn't... I don't." Stede puffs out another breath, fuck he was messing this up. "I replicated them." Stede admits and shifts a little. "The uniform too." He says and drops his eyes to the fabric of the couch. "My other uniform was... blue."

"Blue... you're in sciences?" Ed asks and Stede glances at him. His face is unreadable... a mask while he parses things out.

"Yeah I'm... I'm not Captain... I'm ships counselor." He admits. "I wanted to defect to the Maquis. I just want to be useful. Always wanted to be on the command track, but I washed out. I don't know why I lied. I just wanted to be accepted and I couldn't imagine you wanted a ship's counselor. My own ship didn't want me. I had three patients ask to get reassigned. I wanted to be good at it. People always expect betazoids to be good at counseling-" Stede realizes he's rambling and snaps his mouth shut. "Sorry..."

Ed is silent for a long time. Long enough that Stede is considering just fleeing the room entirely. But finally Ed simple says.

"Huh."

Stede look back up at him, confused. "huh? What do you mean huh?" he asks.

"I mean... Stede you've been here for two months. You've been acting as a Captain on this ship along with me the whole time. You're unorthodox, sure, but the men love you because you listen to them, care about their well-being, and try not to get them killed. You've fucked up a few times but you've been willing to learn and so far everyone on your crew is still alive. That's a great fucking track record out here, man. I don't really care about what Starfleet thinks of your leadership. You've already proven yourself out there. So... I think you are actually a Captain."

Stede just stares at him... no one had ever. He swallows around a sudden lump in his throat. "Oh well... when you put it like that..." Stede says, sounding as choked up as he feels. "Thank you... So you're not mad?" he asks.

Ed's expression softens. "No, man, I'm not mad." he assures him and touches Stede's shoulder. His expression shifts to mischief. "Maybe a little disappointed because I'll be honest, you came in here all nervous and I thought you were working up the nerve to kiss me."

Stede flushes all the way down to his chest and for just one brief moment his telepathy works perfectly and Stede can see it... What Ed was thinking when he first came in, can feel how eager he was. But it's gone just as quickly, lost to Stede's own nerves.

"We can do that instead." Stede says quickly. "I would like to do that instead."

"Good answer. I'm sure you made a great ship's counselor, Captain Bonnet." Ed insists and his catches Stede by the back of the neck to pull him into a kiss.

#ofmd #ofmd fic #my drabbles #fishy's star trek ofmd au #I hope you don't mind my writing this little thing inspired by you AU Fish!!#marsinsane I hope you enjoy this

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retvenkos · 4 years ago

Text

hope in the jar | k.b.

Six of Crows - Kaz Brekker x Reader, slight fluff, slight angst requested

tw: gunshot wound, medical stitches, mention of gun violence, mentions of blood, slightly ooc kaz because have you tried to write him softly?

word count: 1.4k

prompt: “I don’t trust anyone… but you’re not just anyone.”

A/N: 1) this doesn’t seem to take place at any given point in canon but i want wylan and matthias to be there, sue me, and 2) do i know that there is no greek mythology is the grishaverse? yes. does that stop me from mentioning pandora’s box? no.

summary: Kaz Brekker is far from just being anyone. And maybe, so are you.

"You're quiet." Wylan bumped your shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts.

There was a particular kind of calm that descended after a shootout. When pistols stopped smoking and adrenaline had left the bloodstream, the cool weight of evening fell back on your shoulders and managed to settle differently. For Jesper, it meant more jokes than usual. For Inej, more prayer. For Nina, it meant more grumbling, and for Matthias, more smiles. You weren't always sure what it meant for you, but tonight, it meant pensivity.

The walk back to the Slat was victorious. The streets of Ketterdam were empty and unusually quiet, thanks to Wylan's affinity toward bombs and blowing half of the cobblestones right off the street. The tranquility wasn't typical, but somehow, it was comforting. Perhaps even invigorating. How often did Ketterdam fall silent? Especially for canal rats like you?

Maybe if you still had a slow trickle of adrenaline, you would have commemorated the moment - maybe by getting waffles? But it was late, and after taking a bullet to the side after getting a little too close to the enemy, the only thing you wanted was to wash all of the grime off of your face and fall asleep. Maybe you'd celebrate after a good night's rest - Saints providing that such a thing existed in the Barrel.

"Am I quiet? Or are you slowly going deaf from all of your 'science experiments?'"

Wylan flushed a little. Even after all this time, he was so easy to tease. What made it even funnier was that he always managed some witty comeback or another, all while his cheeks were a shocking 'embarrassment pink.' Wylan opened his mouth to speak—

"Definitely quiet!" Jesper called from in front of you, one of his arms slung around Inej's shoulder, the other twirling a pistol.

Wylan let out a scoff of admiration, and you mumbled under your breath - something about Jesper being an irritating, smart mouthed idiot.

"What was that, (Y/n)?"

"You're annoying, Jesper!"

"Well, I'm glad something can make you lively again." Jesper turned his head to toss you a wink, and you rolled your eyes.

Wylan bumped your shoulders together, again, careful not to jostle you too much. "You're not quiet now. Just seething."

"Just tired," you corrected, passing the redhead a lazy smile.

"Admitting that is admitting weakness."

Kaz walked behind you and the rest of the group, but his voice was loud enough for everyone to hear. You turned around and walked backward so you could face him.

To anyone else walking the street, the Bastard of the Barrel was just more brooding than usual - his tone curter, his eyes sharper, the lines on his face deeper than they had the right to be. To you, though, Kaz was tired. His leg was stiff from the fight, giving him more trouble than usual, and his jaw was set in a rigid line as to not give away his weakness.

The Slat wasn't too far, now, but even after getting inside, there would be stairs to climb, and a hell of a lot of them were so worn down, they might buckle at any given weight.

It would be a rough night; it already had been.

You just sighed. "Admitting that is trust."

Kaz held your gaze. For a long moment, you couldn't figure what he was thinking. Kaz Brekker was always considering something, and after a while, you had gotten good at knowing just what he was thinking, when.

But not this time. Kaz was a sphinx to you during that baited moment - inexplicable, an enigma. What made it worse was that it was deliberate.

Kaz raised his eyebrows and looked down at his cane, hitting the ground with more force than before.

"We're all tired."

The night was filled with the quiet once more, but with every step you took toward the Slat, the low din of unruly jeers and shouts filled your brain like cotton on a wound.

✧ *:･ﾟ

You sat on the floor of your room, a bowl of water before you, a haphazard pile of medical supplies to your left. Nina had told you that she wasn't a Healer when she began to seal your wound earlier, and you had said you didn't want to waste time while still exposed on the streets - by all accounts, Nina did a decent job with the three or so minutes you allowed her. But Saints, someone should have told you to stuff your pride and let Nina work on you just a bit longer. Maybe then you wouldn't be sitting on the floor of your room, stitching up a wound with supplies you nicked from Muzzen.

You had just finished your stitches (you still needed to thank Inej for teaching you how) when you heard Kaz walking up the steps.

You wrapped up your wound as best you could. You were pushing down your shirt when you heard him speak.

"I wouldn't trust just anyone in the Dregs."

You washed your hands clean as best you could and sent Kaz a wayward glance, noting how he stood in your doorway - as though he wasn't quite sure if he belonged.

"I've been in Ketterdam too long—" You grabbed a towel and wiped your face, trying to rid yourself of the dirt and grime. You turned back to Kaz "—I don't trust anyone."

He nodded as though agreeing with your judgment. But it was too quick - too relenting. He turned to go.

"But you're not just anyone, Kaz."

The Bastard of the Barrel froze. It seemed to you that his grip on his cane tightened. Perhaps it was a side effect from the blood loss or maybe even a fast-acting infection from that suture needle, but it felt like something sucked all the air out of the room.

You turned to face him properly.

"C'mon, we've both known it for longer than we care to admit. I'm doing us a mercy - putting it to rest."

Silence, still. If the Slat were up in flames, you doubted you would have noticed. There was nothing else here - it was just you, Kaz, and the space that lay between.

You eased your legs out in front of you, putting your arms out behind you and leaning on your palms. The floor was cool - like the night had been, earlier, when you were talking away from a gunfight. The world was somehow smaller, then - like you had held it in your grasp.

Kaz was still half turned, but you could see his profile, and once again, his thoughts were under lock and key.

"You can either take it or leave it, Kaz. But whatever you decide to choose, know that you chose it."

He spoke sooner than you expected. "You're not just anyone, either."

Your mouth went dry. You weren't sure what you had been expecting or even hoping. Hope was still trapped inside Pandora's jar, and even the barest inkling of it could have destroyed your whole world. Hope belonged to the innocent and the pious, and you hadn't been either in a long time. You weren't sure what you had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that.

And for some reason, you could fathom how Kaz Brekker could have ever said such a thing and meant it.

Maybe Kaz didn't think you heard him, because he affirmed it, turning to you. "You're not just anyone, (Y/n)."

"Not just another soldier in your ranks?"

"Not anymore."

You wanted to laugh, but it came out as more of a breath. You settled for a lopsided smile instead. "That's practically a proposal, coming from you."

"If I could offer you more, I would."

You looked at Kaz as he stood in the doorway. He was exhausted and beaten at his own game, but there was nothing but sincerity and truth swimming in his eyes, nothing but honestly dripping from every syllable. Had you ever seen Kaz the way he was, now? To take his own words, he was admitting a weakness. Earnestness was a defect in the Barrel. Vulnerability was a sin.

"It's not much," you conceded. You moved your outstretched leg so that you could tap his shoe - toe to toe. Kaz watched the slow movement carefully, but never pulled away. "But for now, it's good enough."

-- taglist: @musicallisto, @catsbooksandmusic // message me if you want to be added!

#six of crows #grishaverse #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker imagine #x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #fluff #slight angst #one shot #imagine #hi yes why are you all so intent with making me fall in love with kaz brekker?

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sserpente · 4 years ago

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A/N: Heyho there my lovelies! I’m finally back! I missed posting so much! This Imagine is based on a TikTok I found and what can I say? It inspired me! After this, next up, will be the 20k Special! Enjoy everyone!

Words: 3205 Warnings: colour-blindness

“What if I never find him?” You murmured, glancing at the fruit bowl with a saddened expression. Yellow bananas, green grapes, red apples. To you, they were all different shades of grey. Dull and boring, like you had been sucked into a 30s black-and-white film. Only you didn’t get a cheesy romance out of it.

You had been born with what doctors today would call a ‘remarkably rare, complicated and fascinating condition’, for you had lost all of your colour vision at the age of twelve. You still remembered what the world had looked like before—bright, rich, intense—then someone flicked a switch overnight and all you could still see was grey, grey, grey and greyer. The colours would only ever come back to you once you found the love of your life—your soulmate.

A sigh escaped your lips. Only a few people still existed with this… defect and to make things worse, you had had no idea you were one of them. Not until your twelfth birthday. Society admired and pitied you all the same and yet, being a hopeless romantic, at the end of the day, you longed to finally fall in love.

Tony chuckled. “Heads up. You’re too young to worry about settling down anyway.” He responded cheerfully and pointed at you with a screwdriver in hand. He had been trying to fix the dishwasher for a solid twenty minutes now and for a man who had built himself a pretty much indestructible suit that could fly, it was utterly amusing he couldn’t figure out why it had stopped working.

You were not an Avenger, mind you. The sole reason you were, as of right now, in the Avengers’ kitchen munching on grey chocolate chips was that your best friend, who in turn was friends with Clint’s wife, had managed to flood your shared flat over the weekend. It was utterly inhabitable now and it would take quite a while for the landlord to get it all dried up again—and since insurance would not cover the cost for staying in a hotel, for the time being, Clint’s wife had suggested you’d stay with them—right until Tony Stark had shown up and you had graciously offered you’d come hang out at the Avengers Tower. Okay, technically you had begged him but either way and needless to say, you had jumped at the opportunity and somehow even hoped that you would learn some dirty superhero secrets—but so far, nothing. Nothing but what superheroes did when they were not out and about saving the world. Truth be told, seeing Thor in Hello Kitty pyjamas and witnessing Natasha Romanoff of all people scream watching an Asian horror film had its perks but you had somehow expected for them to be called in for an urgent mission where they required a skill only you had and then they would rely on your help and you would fight and become an Avenger and… your fanfiction had always sounded too good to be true.

“Are you still there? How is that fruit bowl so interesting?” Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you blinked.

“Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I was saying that…”

“Tony?” It was Bruce who interrupted you two, peeking his head into the kitchen almost timidly. You waved at him and he nodded, yet he failed to reciprocate your smile. Uh-Oh.

“Did something happen?”

The scientist nodded. “You might wanna put on your suit.”

“What happened?”

Bruce pursed his lips. “We’ve located Loki.”

Your eyes were still widened by the time you rushed after Tony even after he had told you explicitly (three times, to be exact) to stay put and hide until he had been put in custody.

The Loki. God of Mischief, Thor’s brother, Frost Giant, the I-tried-to-take-over-the-planet-guy. It was exciting, somehow, meeting a villain and oh, would it fuel you for your fan fiction. You almost bumped straight into Thor when they all came to a halt all of a sudden, his body a wall of flesh and muscle and making you grunt in pain—you might as well have hit a brick wall. With his hammer in hand, he ensured no one would approach his dangerous brother closely enough for him to try anything funky.

But the fact that Loki was even more handsome in person and the first villain you ever saw in person when he turned around the corner with a proud and arrogant expression on his face despite his shackles, was not what startled you to the core.

All of a sudden, there were colours. Everywhere.

Your lips parted, the impact of all the pigmentation around you making you dizzy. Loki’s armour was black, his cape was green, his eyes were blue, and his hair reminded you of the plumage of a raven. And your surroundings... The compound was silver now, the sceptre they had taken from him golden. Nauseous, you held on to Thor’s muscly arm for support. The God of Thunder frowned in concern. His eyes were blue too, his hair blonde, his cape red… too… many… colours. You suppressed a gag, overwhelmed by the sudden return of your colour vision.

“Are you okay?” Thor asked.

“G-guys… I can see colours.”

Every single head in the room, including Loki’s, turned in your direction so fast you flinched. Tony’s face was the first to fall in response.

“You are joking, right?”

Mutely, you shook your head. Your eyes locked with Loki’s, electricity rippling through you when they did. His blue irises froze you from the inside out, like each and every one of your limbs failed to resist the magnetic pull you felt towards him, and your cells longed for you to throw yourself into his arms—despite the fact he was handcuffed... and for a good reason too. Swallowing thickly, you forced yourself to look away.

Loki was your soulmate. That was impossible; and quite frankly, the god in question appeared to be thinking the exact same thing.

You chewed on your lower lip, anything to distract yourself from your predicament all the while everyone was still staring at you like you had grown two more heads.

“Take him to the cells, I’ll stay with her.” Clint’s hand on your shoulder did little to console you. Part of you still barely resisted the urge to start at Loki like a succubus, the other… the other was terrified and meant to hide in the archer’s embrace.

You could feel Loki’s blue gaze still resting on you when he led you away from the scene, staring daggers into your back and rendering you speechless until you were finally out of sight and Clint shook your shoulder gently.

“Are you sure it’s not one of the security guards that helped bring him in?”

“No… no, I saw them first. Loki was behind them. It’s… I don’t know how to explain it but somehow, Loki was in colour first, you know what I mean? First him and then, a split second later, everything else was colourful too.”

“And now?”

“Now what?”

“Do you still see in colour now?”

“Of course I do.” Clint sighed and buried his face in his hands.

“So what happens if you don’t… act on this soulmate thing?”

“Nothing. Nothing happens.” You said.

“So you don’t have to… stay close to Loki or anything?”

“No. Not that I know of. But Clint—“

“Good. Because he might find a way to use you against us. Stay away from him. Thor’ll take him back to Asgard soon enough. All we need to do first is find the Tesseract.”

Your lips were pursed when he turned to check on them and if Loki was wreaking havoc while they were trying to get him imprisoned.

Stay away from him? Of course… it was the most reasonable thing to do. Loki was dangerous, a criminal… but was that right? Now that you had found your soulmate in him?

You couldn’t get him out of your head that night. Screw the danger, you had to see him. And eventually, your curiosity and that inexplicable and strange pull you felt towards Loki got the better of you. With a deep breath, you threw your covers back and let your bare feet hit the cold floor before quietly tiptoeing out into the dark and empty hallway.

Your blood was rushing in your ears, making you hear things your paranoia and imagination cooked up to the point your heart was pounding in your chest so hard and fast you feared it might jump right out of your ribcage. No one could know, of course. Clint would positively kill you—he, along with Tony, somewhat considered himself responsible for you here. You couldn’t really blame them. If something happened to you, they’d never forgive themselves. You were an innocent civilian, after all.

And now you had been tossed into the greatest fanfiction yet. Shivering, for the cold slowly crept into your bare skin and through the tanktop and shorts you were wearing to sleep, you finally reached the corridor leading to the elevator. The prison cells, a rather new addition to Stark Tower, were located at the very bottom, the cellar, or… what you preferred to call it, a modern dungeon.

You found Loki with his back turned to you in his cell, looking pale through the glass pane. Your heart skipped a beat when he suddenly spoke up.

“I expected you would find a way to come and see me at some point. I’d dare say the Avengers have taken quite the precautions to keep you as far away from me as possible.” He mused. He lifted his chin, approaching the glass window.

It was quite ridiculous to assume that this tiny and meagre prison would keep the Trickster at bay after everything he had proven to be capable of. If only he wanted to, he could shatter that glass with but a flick of his wrist or break the heavy metal door posing as the only barrier between you.

If you were to just… unlock that door to touch him… it would be so easy. Blinking rapidly, you shook your head to chase the thought away.

“Who are you?” He asked and for just a brief moment, you believed to see genuine interest and curiosity sparkling in his stunning blue eyes.

“No one, really. You already know my name, I presume but that’s all there is. I’m not special—I mean, I don’t have superpowers. I’m just a regular human with a rare condition.”

“Oh, I see. Surely you had not hoped for a criminal of all people to be your soulmate then? A murderer? A monster?” His expression hardened.

Yes. But you were not going to tell him that. He was still the person to have made you see colours again, regardless of who he was and what he had done. There must have been a connection between you, you felt it after all! And you were certain that he felt it too.

“Thor will take me back to Asgard and the great King Odin,” he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “will surely have me executed. You will never see me again. So do not worry.”

“I don’t want that.” You finally chirped, barely daring to look him in the eye. His gaze was scrutinising and intimidating… almost as if he was able to see right into your soul with but one single glance.

Loki frowned.

“I bet you’re not happy about this, are you?” A desperate scoff escaped your lips. “I’m not sure I am…” You confessed and sat down on the chair in front of the window. It creaked a little under your weight, the unpleasant sound echoing through the empty hallway.

This man right in front of you was not be trusted and yet, the desire to pour your heart out to him was so strong you felt it like a sea of emotions attempting to drown you.

“You know ever since my twelfth birthday I wondered when I would finally meet my soulmate. Who they would be, what they would be like… and then so many years passed I was beginning to worry I might never see colours again. That I’d be alone and grey for the rest of my life.”

Loki licked his lips and glanced up at you, listening intently to every single word you said.

“Now I met you and they all tell me not to trust you. I mean… I know who you are, I know what you’ve done. I can’t say I’m happy about the fact my soulmate is…” You stopped yourself, breathing in sharply. “What was the universe thinking? You are a god and I’m just… me. We live light-years apart!”

Eventually, after a moment of surprisingly pleasant silence between you, Loki hummed. “The Norns do have interesting ways.” He said, locking his eyes with yours, almost as if he was pondering if… if what? If he could imagine being with you?

“So what should we do? Never speak of it again? Pretend we have never met? I can’t just… come to Asgard with you.” You held your breath when you realised what you were considering here. Loki must have thought the same. He smirked in response—not mockingly but bitterly. “Odin would never allow a mortal on Asgard. If I was to survive my trial, that is.”

“Don’t say that. I don’t care you’re a criminal right now, I just found my soulmate, and I don’t want to lose him again right away, regardless of what happens between us.”

With a start, his face fell. “Nothing will happen between us. That would be unnecessarily cruel, would it not? Your life in the nine realms is but a heartbeat compared to mine.”

“So… this is goodbye?”

Loki hesitated. You noticed by the way his lips slightly parted without a single sound escaping them just yet.

“Yes. This is goodbye.”

The fruit bowl had become your new best friend. In the morning, tired and rather absent, you sat at the kitchen table holding on to a steaming mug of coffee all the while studying the different colours of the fruit before you like a complicated Maths formula.

“Did you have a good chat last night?” Clint barked at you when he entered the room, skipping the ‘Good morning’.

“Huh?”

“With Loki?” He probed, raising his eyebrows in an I-already-know-what-you’ve-done manner.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You said, shaking your head and focusing your gaze on the fruit bowl again. Yellow bananas, green grapes, red apples. In colour.

You flinched when Tony spoke your name. “We saw the footage on our security cameras. You sneaked to his cell last night knowing fully well why you should stay away from him, especially with… with… you know.”

Fuck… the security cameras. You had completely forgotten about those! Of course the legendary Tony Stark would have had security cameras installed all over the damn place!

Busted, you shrugged your shoulders as nonchalantly as you could muster. “I just wanted to talk him. I had to talk to him. I know what you’re all thinking—that he’s evil and brutal and cruel and ruthless… and… and you’re probably right? I… I don’t even know but… he is still my soulmate. I can see colours again because of him for Fuck’s sake! I can’t just… ignore that.”

“I get it. We don’t know what it must feel like. But it’s for the best. We don’t want him to hurt you.”

“I am his soulmate, too. He wouldn’t dare hurt me. You know maybe he’s not the monster you all think he is.”

“Are you saying that because you know him so well after last night or because that is what you want to believe?”

Both. “I just… have a feeling.”

“Right.” Tony clapped his hands. Your name left his lips almost like a plea. “You have to trust us.”

Thor nodded. “Loki is dangerous. You should stay away from him at least until we know he is not still plotting the domination of your planet.”

“What do you mean ‘at least until’? You can stop staying away from him when he’s back on Asgard and out of your reach.” Tony snapped.

“We’re just trying to keep you safe.” Steve intervened. You sighed.

“You know what? I’m getting a headache and I’m still tired, so I’m gonna go back to bed.” That wasn’t even a lie—well, at least the fatigue bit wasn’t. Besides, the blackout curtains in the room Tony let you stay in were heaven-sent.

That was until a loud tumult in the Tower woke you up again, even though you were not sure anymore you had actually fallen asleep once your head hit the soft pillow.

“W—“ Your scream of protest was muffled by a cool palm covering your mouth. You struggled briefly, ripping your eyes wide open in a weak attempt to make out who was assaulting you in the comforting darkness of your room when you suddenly heard a soothing voice shushing you.

“It’s me…”

“L-Loki?” You choked out when he removed his hand again. “Did you… did you break out of your cell?”

“It would seem so. Come.”

“What?”

He tilted his head. “I don’t have much time.”

You stood, throwing the covers back when he already reached for your hand and held it tightly, pulling you with him into the hallway and towards one of the more hidden exists of Stark Tower, a flight of stairs illuminated only by emergency lights.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I am proving to you that I am more than just a criminal.”

“Oh… but… um… where are we going?”

Loki smirked. Your eyes widened when he pulled out the Tesseract seemingly out of nowhere, its blue light glowing brightly in the dark and throwing artistic shadows on his face.

“Hold on tight.”

“Loki…”

The God of Mischief pulled you close, making you gasp. Your chest hit his, his arm wrapping around your waist. With his face only inches from yours, you could feel his warm breath on your lips, and suddenly longed to kiss him.

“You are my soulmate. I am not leaving you behind.”

“What happened to ‘goodbye’?” You chirped.

Loki tilted his head almost threateningly. “You are mine. Don’t you think I wanted to leave this place without looking back?” His expression softened. “But I couldn’t. Because of you.” And you might just be the only woman to ever love me in this way, he added silently.

“B-but… Y-you said Odin will never allow me on Asgard and… and…”

“I never said we were going to Asgard, now was I?”

Your lips parted. Could you trust him? The stranger who had finally made you see colours again? If you told him No, would he let go of you? Would he let you run to Tony and Clint and Nat so they could protect you from him? Swallowing thickly, you met his intense blue gaze and nodded.

Loki smirked and winked. “You are in for an adventure.” And you knew he wasn’t lying. Next thing you knew, you were both hurtled through space and into a shared future.

A/N: ☕

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 4 years ago

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i love your metas! I just discovered them today and have spent all afternoon reading them. I have two part ask, if that's okay. Firstly, do you think a sensible version of bella could survive if she recognised early on that keeping on Edward's good side was her only survival option? and secondly, on the flip side, just how unhinged do you think bella could be before edward rejected her?

Ooh, both interesting questions, anon. Let's do this.

Sane Bella and the Yandere Simulator

Last time, on The Carnivorous Muffin's ridiculous blog, we covered what would happen to a sensible Bella who realizes the Cullens are not fluffy bunnies she should take home.

The long and short, Edward eats her.

Edward's romantic interest in Bella, the thing that has him fighting his own baser nature to keep her alive, is dependent on a few things.

One of those is Bella's interest in turn.

In time, if Bella truly was not interested in him, he would eat her. Alice tells us there's only two paths for Bella: death or vampire. Leaving her and walking away is never a true option for Edward.

So, Sane Bella loses Yandere Simulator because she doesn't realize the key aspect of Yandere Simulator: You Never Say No to Yandere.

However, you point out something interesting here, that this is a sensible Bella.

Sensible people do not immediately think they're playing Yandere Simulator. You don't run across people like Edward often, there aren't many of him, and while there are red flags early in Twilight Edward did a pretty good job of making them not particularly visible.

By the time we hit Eclipse he's pretty much thrown pretending to be nice and sane out the window. Luckily for Bella, that doesn't appear to bother her as much as it should.

Bella thinking "if I don't play along with this inhuman whack job he'll eat me", is paranoid lunacy. It is not the first conclusion a reasonable person would jump to.

That it happens to be the right conclusion is irrelevant.

But alright, I'll play ball.

Paranoid Bella and the Yandere Simulator

Bella is utterly paranoid and wearing her tin foil hat when she enters Forks. She remembers Biology very well and when Edward comes back and pretends to be nice she gives him a strained smile and thinks, "This motherfucker will eat me the moment my back is turned."

Bella considers travelling back to Florida, but that would be leading Edward to her mother, more it would be very easy to find Bella if he truly wished to.

Florida isn't an option.

Bella tries to keep her distance from Edward, hard when he sits next to her in Biology, but he seems willing to ignore her. Bella calms down a little, maybe this will work out.

Bella is nearly crushed by a van, desperately pretends she definitely did not see Edward fold that van like a pretzel. Nope, no siree Bob, Bella is concussed! She then stays awake all night in terror and OH GOD HE'S CLIMBING THROUGH HER WINDOW! HE'S GOING TO EAT HER IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT! HE KNOWS THAT SHE KNOWS!

Bella pretends to sleep, horrified, and Edward stays there all night. Staring.

(Edward, meanwhile, is realizing he's in love.)

Bella enters school a nervous wreck, waiting for that fateful Biology class and... Edward is studiously ignoring her. He doesn't even say hello.

Bella would be relieved, except he keeps sneaking into her bedroom at night, staring. Bella gets no sleep for weeks.

Then the blood testing happens and suddenly Edward is talking to her. He tells her they shouldn't be friends and he doesn't want to be friends, GREAT, EDWARD, THAT'S GREAT. But then it's very clear that he's after something, and Bella's spidey senses are tingling.

Edward doesn't want to be friends.

Oh, oh shit.

Suddenly, Edward sneaking into her room at night takes on a whole, new, sinister twist. First he'll rape her, then he'll eat her (or who knows, maybe vice versa, Bella certainly doesn't want to find out).

Bella is driven home by Edward (he insists) and enters the house to wheeze into a paper bag.

She thinks over her options.

Edward can crush cars, Bella trips over asphalt. Even if she wasn't Bella, there's no way she could outfight him even if she wanted to.

Edward was very concerned when he suspected that she knew, he likely still suspects and Bella's not a very good liar. Bella doesn't want to find out what happens to her if Edward realizes she really does know.

Edward appears to have a romantic interest in her. Does Bella really have the option of saying no?

Bella, still wheezing in her bag, comes to what seems like an inevitable decision. She must humor Edward at all costs. For the sake of her family, of her own life, she must play into his romantic overtures. Bella can't act but now, her life depends on it.

Well, Bella still can't act, but luckily for her Edward doesn't care.

Edward just thinks Bella's very jumpy, a little nervous and shy, and just plain weird (given he thinks Bella's just plain weird in canon this is not too far from normal events).

So Bella gets to live in terror for things like the meadow, where Edward talks about how easy it would be to eat her, how he contemplated murdering Biology in cold blood to eat her in the most efficient manner, how he loathed her for daring to smell delicious, how Alice warned him there was a good chance of him eating Bella in the meadow today, all while pressing his cheek against her hammering heartbeat.

"AH HA HA HA HA, EDWARD, YOU'RE SO CHARMING."

Edward invites Bella to the house. These creepy, man eating, people all meet her with smiles. Edward has composed her a lullaby. One of them, Alice, tells Bella they're going to be best friends.

"AH HA HA HA HA, EDWARD YOUR FAMILY IS SO NICE."

In other words, somehow, all of Twilight still happens because Bella is terrified of saying no.

At least, until Volterra. Given Bella's being hunted by Victoria, even had Bella not gone cliff diving eventually Alice would see her eaten and then black out as the wolves chased off Victoria instead.

Bella spends New Moon having a great time. Mostly. The Cullens are finally gone, she's free, she spends weeks on edge thinking they might come back.

Just when she starts to relax, fucking Laurent shows up and learns Victoria's trying to kill her. Because of Edward, because of course, it's always about Edward. WHY ARE VAMPIRES ALWAYS TRYING TO KILL HER?!

Regardless, Alice shows up and goes, "Bella, my god, you're alive!" And Bella dies inside. Alice Cullen is back. Oh no.

Bella pretends she's thrilled to see her. Alice, her best friend, her favorite demon. Hurray. Alice fills Bella in on the New Moon scoop, Bella pretends to be very invested. Then Alice gets the vision.

Edward has decided to commit suicide via the Volturi.

Bella has no problem with this, unfortunately, she realizes that Alice clearly has a problem with this. Alice fully expects Bella to run off to Italy to save Fucking Edward.

Once again, Bella isn't sure she's allowed to say no.

Bella runs to Italy, finds herself saving Edward's life, and then she's brought before the Volturi where she might very well be executed because Edward Cullen happened to involve her in this mess.

BELLA NEVER WANTED TO BE HERE.

Bella snaps. She's crying, she just can't take it anymore, and she finally loses her shit at Edward. SHE NEVER LOVED HIM! HE IS SCARY AND WON'T LEAVE HER ALONE! IF THEY'RE GOING TO KILL HER JUST DO IT NOW BECAUSE SHE CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE.

Aro watches Bella's mental breakdown in utter amazement. Naturally, while Marcus suspected something was funky with those two, Aro did not see this coming from Edward's perspective.

Aro offers Bella her out, it is unfortunately death or vampire, but vampire is very much an option and Aro will offer Bella sanctuary in the Volturi.

Bella takes that offer and runs with it.

Edward is devastated and blindsided.

Somehow, neither he nor Alice saw this one coming.

But to answer your question: Paranoid Bella survives Yandere Simulator By Defecting to the Volturi

How Unhinged Does Bella Have to Be For Edward to Dump Her?

He won't.

Remember, Edward in canon thinks there's something legitimately wrong with Bella. She doesn't think like normal people, she always makes the least rational choice, and he can't hear her thoughts.

Edward doesn't think Bella's gifted just that she's... different. (Bella, hilariously, immediately picks up that Edward's calling her a freak. Edward backtracks hard on that one.)

Bella's decisions also become increasingly ridiculous as the series goes on.

She stabs herself in the middle of a battle, she insists on having sex with him while human, she consorts with shapeshifters (to Edward this is lunacy), she picked up motorcycle riding, she threw herself off a cliff, she ran from his sweet protection to the reservation, she believes he doesn't love her, and she doesn't want to get married.

I imagine Edward thinks there isn't anywhere left for Bella to go. She's left the planet, unhinged is her middle name.

But none of that matters.

I already linked the Edward/Bella post I always link near the top so I'll just recap. For Edward, it's all about the blood, the silence, and the projection.

An unhinged Bella is still a delicious and silent Bella. He can still pretend she's Carlisle.

Even if Bella became addicted to cocaine, and ruined that sweet scent, it wouldn't tarnish her memory. He'd nurse her back to health, then eat her so she never relapses.

That's the trouble with Edward/Bella, it's not about Bella, not at all. You could replace her with sweet smelling cardboard and Edward would not notice a difference.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #edward cullen #anti edward cullen #bella swan #edward/bella #anti edward/bella #alice cullen #anti alice cullen #the volturi #aro #meta #headcanon #opinion

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americancowgirl19 · 4 years ago

Text

Prince of Hell

Summary: You’re Esme’s brother. You two haven’t seen each other in a long time but now she needs your help to keep Renesmee safe.

Warnings: Death, violence, a little fluff and a little angst

Reader: Male Reader

Pairings: Demetri Volturi x Male Reader

Word Count: 3,108

A/n: Might make a part two

Masterlist

Esme stands in the doorway of Renesmee’s bedroom. The little girl sleeps soundly without a care in the world. Carlisle comes up behind her and embraces her tenderly.

“She’s going to be ok, we’ll protect her.” Carlisle whispers kissing the side of her head. A couple of hours earlier Alice had gotten the vision about the Volturi coming for Renesmee. They came up with the plan to find witnesses to protect her. Esme fears that it won’t be enough.

“Nothing will ever be the same,” Esme whispers. “The Volturi won’t forgive those who stand on our side. Not everyone has a coven to protect them when this is over. They could pick them off one by one when they leave.”

“We won’t force anybody to help us, they’ll know what they’re getting into.” Carlisle whispers. Esme sighs turning in his arms.

“There’s another option,” Esme whispers. Carlisle tilts his head. She slips out of his arms and leads him toward the living room where the rest of their family sits. They’re all planning on who is going to go to who.

Edward’s the first to look up. Esme has no doubt he’s reading her mind by the curious look on his face. A second later, Alice’s eyes go distant. When she comes back, her eyes fall on Esme.

“What is it?” Bella asks noticing both of their looks. Soon, everyone’s looking at Esme.

“When I was human I was married to a dangerous man,” Esme begins. “When I became pregnant I knew I couldn’t stay with him anymore but I didn’t have the money or the resources to leave,” Esme takes a seat on the plush chair toward the middle of everyone. “So, I went to my brother and told him everything. He got me out that night,” Esme smiles softly as she thinks of you. “We had been close as children but drifted apart as adults. But that night it was like nothing had changed. He took care of me, kept me safe,” Her eyes fall down into her lap. “Then I had the baby and two days later... I lost him,”

“Greyson?” Edward question remembering her son.

When Carlisle changed Esme she had a week old son named Greyson. He grew up with them after Esme learned how to control herself.. He didn’t want to become a vampire and had died of a heart attack only a decade ago.

They had been able to hide him from the Volturi. They had only found out about him when Edward went to Volterra when he believed Bella to be dead. By then, however, Greyson was dead.

“Yes, Greyson,” Esme nods. “He had a lung defect. He was supposed to be dead which is why... Why I jumped off the cliff before Carlisle found me.” Carlisle places a comforting hand on her shoulder. She smiles up at him and places her hand over his.

“How did he survive?” Bella asks.

“My brother, Y/n... He sold his soul to save my son.” Esme told them.

She remembers the day he had done it. Esme had been spiraling and you just knew she wouldn’t live in a world without her son. You couldn’t bare the thought of losing Esme and knew you had to do something to save her son.

By the time you sold your soul, Esme had already jumped off the cliff. You had a few years before the hounds of hell came to collect you. Esme stayed with Carlisle and learned control. A day before your time ended, you found Esme and gave her the five year old son.

“Sold his soul?” Emmett asks, raising an eyebrow. Esme didn’t blame them for being skeptical. There were fewer demons on Earth than vampires. The ones that were on Earth stayed hidden and played with the humans from the shadows.

“He’s a demon.” Alice whispers connecting the dots.

“A demon? Those exist?” Rosalie asks. Esme nods.

“Where do you think nightmares and tragedies come from? Deaths so unexplainable that not even a shapeshifter or a vampire can understand?” Esme asks them. “Most of them are locked away in hell and can only come up if they manage to escape or are summoned by someone. They’re stronger than a thousand newborns combined,”

“That’s why the Volturi were afraid of him,” Alice says thinking back to her recent vision. “None of their powers worked on him and he was more powerful than all of them,”

“So, how do we get in contact with this guy?” Emmett asks.

“It’s not that simple,” Esme tells him. “It’s very dangerous. If we mess up we could be releasing something far more dangerous than him. If we do it right, there’s no guarantee that he’ll help us. He’s been a demon for almost a hundred years, there’s no telling if my brother’s still... himself.”

Bella turns her head toward Edward. Esme watches them waiting for someone to say something. A few moments later, Edward looks back at Esme.

“How do we contact him?”

The moment the question leaves his lips the room drops in temperature. It’s enough to send a shiver through Jake’s spine. The lights flicker as the windows begin to be covered with frost.

“Ask nicely,” Everyone’s head turns toward the corner. Sitting in the shadows is a man dressed in black slacks and button up shirt along with an equally dark vest. His hands are hidden behind gloves with a leather jacket that reaches down to his midthigh.

“Y/n,” Esme whispers standing up. You smirk and push yourself up as well. With a snap of your fingers the lights return to normal and the frost melts away.

“Sorry for the dramatics... I like to make an entrance,” You states, a lop sided smirk on your lips. “I was in the neighborhood, thought I heard someone talking about me so I decided to drop by.” You explain sauntering into the middle of the living room. Your eyes look around, observing the home around you. “I hear you’re in a bit of a bind, little sister.”

“It’s my granddaughter... She needs your help,” Esme tells you. You chuckle darkly before spinning on your heels to look at her.

“It’s always a child with you, isn’t it?” You ask smirking. She gives you a small, unsure smile. “What do you want me to do? I can’t very well sell my soul, I already did that for your first child. One soul, one child,” You sit in a chair, draping your arm over the back, your ankle resting on your knee.

“Do you know of the Volturi?” Your eyes slide away from your sister to the pixie hair cut girl, Alice. You knew everyone in the room. You had been keeping tabs on your little sister and knew who she came in contact with and who she adopted into her family.

“Ah, yes, the Volturi,” You smirk, looking back at Esme. “They’re good for business. Send plenty of souls to hell for us to feed on,” Your comment makes most of them unease. You soak up the anxiety.

“Mommy?” You’re eyes snap to the little girl by the steps. You stand up at the same time her mother flashes beside her. You had heard about this little girl but this is the first time you’ve seen her.

“So, this is the child you so desperately want to protect,” You state, your eyes remain on the girl as you move closer.

“The Volturi believe she’s an immortal child,” Esme says.

“How idiotic,” You whisper kneeling in front of the child. “Her soul is much too bright and her heart is much too active. Hello, little one,”

“Hi,” She whispers, hugging her mothers waist. You send her a small smile and a playful wink before standing up.

“You never answered my question,” You say, turning back to Esme. “What do you want me to do? Kill the coven? Possess them? Make them fall to their knees and beg for mercy?” By the end your lips are curled into a sadistic grin.

Esme looks at you for a moment and all she can feel is sorrow. When you were human the only person you ever wanted to harm was her husband. Now, you would kill and torture without a second thought. In fact, you seemed to enjoy it.

Hell had twisted your soul into someone almost unrecognizable. She was relieved that you held a little bit of goodness in your heart to at least consider helping them.

“We just want them to leave us alone,” Esme tells you. You pout at the boring request.

“Well, I can do that,” You nod walking away from the child not failing to notice how the room relaxed as you put distance between yourself and her. “However, I don’t do anything for free anymore. I’m going to need something in return,” You whisper standing toe-to-toe with Esme. You gently brush your knuckles along her cheek like you used to when you were human and she needed to feel safe. “little sister.”

“What do you want?” Esme asks quietly. You hum stepping away from her.

“Oh, the endless possibilities,” You whisper, sitting down in the chair you had previously occupied. “How much is that little girl worth to you?” You ask the people in the room. “Are you truly willing to make a deal with the Prince of Hell?” You ask.

“Prince of Hell?” Jake asks. Your eyes flicker to him.

“Well, at least I’m not the Devil,” You joke before tilting your head side to side. “Not yet at least,” You shrug. “I’ve been in hell for 80 years... That’s human years, time moves differently down there. Once they dragged me down by my ankles I began working my way up with my hands. My ambition has payed off... Who knows, maybe in another 80 years, you’ll have had the pleasure of knowing the Devil?”

“Lucky us,” Emmett mutters.

“Yes, lucky you, indeed” You growled standing up. “I may be the Prince of Hell but I am still your older brother,” You said looking at Esme. “While my services are no longer free, I will always answer your call. You all are her family which makes you my family which means that I will aid you when you need me but like I said... I don’t work for free.”

“So, what’s your price?” Edward asks. You turn to him. You stare at him for a moment before looking around the room.

“A favor,” You tell them. “One favor,” You hold up your pointer finger and spin around for everyone to see. “A favor anybody, or everybody, in this room can fulfill,”

“And the favor?” Bella asks, tightening her hold on Renesmee. Your smirk you send her is enough to strike fear into her unbeating heart.

“I don’t know,” You shrug putting your hands behind your back. “I will come whenever I am in need of your services. You fulfill my favor and you’re free. I will make sure Renesmee is protected from the Volturi and all will be well again,”

“No,” Esme shakes her head regaining everyone’s attention. You arch an eyebrow at her. “You want someone to do you a favor, you ask me, not my family.” She says sternly. “I will not allow you to hold this over their head,” You smirk deviously.

“You’ve grown clever, little sister” You praise her. “Much smarter than you had been as a human, I’m proud.” Esme holds your gaze. “Fine,” You give in. “One favor and only Esme can fulfill it,” The rest of the family tries to argue but you ignore them and walk up to your sister. “Please don’t die before I cash that favor in,”

“You’ll know how to find me,” Esme tells you. You nod before giving her the first genuine smile you’ve given anyone in decades.

“I am truly happy to see you, little sister,” You whisper to her. You gently kiss her forehead. “Renesmee will be safe, I promise,” You vow because vanishing in thin air.

Within a few seconds, the Volturi castle began to suffer the same side effects of your arrival. All the vampires looked around as the lights flickered and frost covered the windows. When the lights went back to normal, the vampires noticed a new presence in the middle of the throne room.

A few of the Volturi guards hissed in alarm but you paid them no mind. Your eyes zeroed in on the man in the middle, Aro.

“Who are you?!” Caius shouted, standing from his throne. You ignore him which doesn’t help his temper.

“I’ve come to inform you that Renesmee Cullen is not an immortal child, she’s a hybrid. Leave the Cullens alone and I’ll allow you to live.” Aro chuckles while Caius glares harder. Marcus seemed indifferent but his eyes continued to go from you to another vampire.

“And what proof do you have to back up your statement?” Aro asks, stepping closer to you. You smirk.

“I don’t have to answer to you and I’ve already given you your warning. Shall you continue to go against the Cullens, there will be... consequences.” You warn him. “I’ll be watching,” Once the final word leaves your lips, you disappear.

“Intriguing,” Aro whispers before turning to Demetri. “Find him.” Aro orders. Demetri bows before leaving. Only problem, he can hardly feel your tenor.

You kept your eye on the Volturi. Just as you hoped, Aro didn’t stop planning against the Cullens. You were about to prepare yourself to make another appearance when you sensed something.

“I’ve never met anyone who could sneak up on me,” You state, walking to the chair to put your jacket on. “Although, you are the first who’s been able to sneak into my home.” You turn toward the intruder. He slowly comes out of the shadows.

You stare at him and tilt your head. He’s certainly one of the more attractive vampires you’ve seen. Then there’s the fact that he was able to hunt you down. You were impressed and highly curious.

“How did you find me?”

“It’s my ability... I can find anybody,” You hum moving closer to him. His scent begins to fill the room and it was slowly captivating your attention.

“But I’m not just anybody,” You whisper, inching closer to him. “Vampire abilities aren’t supposed to work on me... Not like they usually do, at least”

“And why is that?” He questions. You begin to smirk, sauntering even closer. He shifts on his feet but his eyes remain locked with yours.

“Why do you think?” You ask, not hesitating to invade his personal space. “Come on,” You whisper, taking a deep whiff of his scent. “You know the answer,” Demetri doesn’t answer. “You and your kind wonder the Earth thinking your the demons but you’re just child’s play.”

“Why do you care about the Cullens?” Demetri asks.

“I had a human life at one time, a human life I shared with a Cullen. They asked for a favor and I’m about to go back to the Volturi to finish it. Care to join me?” You ask, offering him your arm. He looks at it, pinching his eyebrows. “It’ll be a lot faster if we do this my way,” You whispers, sending him a wink.

Hesitantly, Demetri links arms with you. You grin at him and transport the both of you from your apartment to the Volturi Castle. When you arrive, Caius stands alarmed. Demetri moves to the side to stand with his fellow guardsmen.

“Aro, Aro, Aro,” You tsk slowly. “You were warned,”

“And I explained that I needed proof. I have to protect us, this child may be a threat.” Aro states.

“Maybe,” You shrug. “But you won’t be around to see it,” You tell him. A few of the vampires growl at you. You pay them no mind.

You then feel a prick in the back of your mind. A familiar feeling you get when a vampire tries to use their abilities on you. Your eyes shift to the blond girl by the steps.

“Performance issues, sweetheart?” You smirk. She snarls at you. You raise your hand to grab the vampire that tried to attack you. You grab his throat and lift him off the ground. “Sloppy,” You whisper and squeeze your hand so tight that his head just pops off. You then straight your vest and adjust your jacket. “Anyone else?” You ask, opening your arms welcomingly.

A most of the guard tries to take you down but you don’t break a sweat dismembering them. They try to use their powers but they’re ineffective on you. You turn your head and notice Demetri standing by you. He rips a nearby guard member to pieces. He turns back to you, his eyes pitch back.

You slowly grin finding his black eyes just ask attractive as his ruby red ones. Tearing your gaze from Demetri, you look back at Aro. The king hisses but before he can move you’re in front of him. You place your hand on either side of his face forcing him to look into your eyes.

“You believe vampires don’t have a soul,” You whisper. “How wrong you are,” You chuckle, feeling your eyes blazing brightly. “You have a soul... It’s just pitch black. No worries, I’ll rid you of it.” Aro begins screaming as you suck his soul out of his body.

As Aro dies in your hands, what’s left of the guard disperses. When Aro’s soul is gone, you toss his body to the side feeling refreshed. It was the first time you consumed a vampire soul. Demon usually leave vampires along but after having a taste of the power his soul gives you. You want more.

“Well, Demetri,” You hum turning toward him. “I have a mission,” You walk down the steps. “At the moment, I am known as the Prince of Hell,” Demetri raises his eyebrows at you. “I don’t plan on staying a mere prince. I want the whole kingdom, I want to be king.” You state stopping in front of him. “Consuming the souls of vampires might just give the power I need to overthrow the current monarch.”

“And?” Demetri asks. You smirk, brushing the tips of your fingers along his jaw.

“Help me, Demetri,” You whisper, loving how his name rolls off the tongue. “Help me find vampires, help me become king, and I will give you everything you desire” You promise, trailing your fingers down his throat and over his chest. “I’ll give you the world and I will give you Hell.” You smirk playfully.

“I know just where to start,”

#vampire #demon #volturi #Demon!reader #Male!reader #Demetri x reader #Demetri Volturi x reader #Demetri Volturi x Male!reader #Demetri Volturi #Demetri x male!reader #male reader #cullens #Esme Cullen #breaking dawn part 2 #soulamte #Prince of Hell

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anoiaa · 3 years ago

Text

Class E: Elites

In this fanfic, the advanced nurturing high school has an additional class; class E, consisting of special students.

warnings: contains names of real anime characters that I don’t own, credit to the original mangaka. The names and the OCs of this fic are different people, do not confuse them with the real characters! I just thought it would be easier to have names you already know to avoid mixing up characters.

It was in a perfectly well-lit hallway that stood a mob of students waited outside the room named class D. On their front door, well before anyone, stood a lone student of short blue hair and chromatic eyes. She had a vibrant smile on her face with an aura alike that of an innocent child.

“Ohto Ai, I am the leader of class E! What’s this? You’re class D right? I thought we could introduce ourselves since we are all the defects of the school.”

“Huh—!? Who are you calling defects? Punk”

In a far corner stood a red haired boy named Sudo with a red face and a fist in hand. He was however directly intimidated by the crowd that leaned all over the class’ windows as they stared at him intently. A second young boy stood up with a gentle smile and directed his gaze at the leader in front of him.

“What business do you have with our class?”

“Straight to the point I see…As you all know, this year’s class D was bigger than the previous years, and thus they created two classes for all 80 students to fit in, calling the second class “E”. It has already been four months and yet we have been operating like two different classes. Isn’t it heart-breaking, Hirata-Kun?”

“That’s why we are here today, we want to cooperate and make up for the time we lost.” he said, “I am Yagami Light, the secretary of the class. Pleasure to meet you all.”

“Call me L. Vice president.” he said

“Enoshima Junko, the advisor.” she said.

“Katagiri Yuuichi, Internal Conflict Manager.” he said,

“Nanami Sakura, you can say I kick butts of those who approach president here.” she said.

“I am Jabami Yumeko, the communicator. Any information that you wish to tell any of the committee or class members must be directed to me, if not, then it will be considered irrelevant.”

The classroom erupted in whispers at the last introduction, in a way, it sounded more of a “president” position than a communicator. And it wasn’t just her, the class had had suspicions on other positions as well,

“That’s all for today, If you have anything you wish to tell us please don’t hesitate to come over our class. Now we leave!” declared Ohto in a state of enthusiasm.

The class D was left bewilder as the mob of forty students that had accompanied the committee members of class E left at once. Horikita, Hirata and Kushida had abnormal expressions on their faces while multiple students exchanged words among themselves.

This class would certainly be different than the rest of us. They thought.

—

“Hirata-Kun? What brings you here?”

Jabami stood outside her class with Hirata who had made the journey all up to class E to have a discussion with the class leaders.

“I am sorry but as I had said previously, no one will communicate to the president directly. All information must be passed through me. Don’t even try sneaking up on the president, Sakura is not a very gentle person!” she giggled, “So, what is it?”

“I see, well my classmates and I would like to know how you will be contributing to the special Island exam that the teacher announced.”

“Oh really? Well…” Jabami pondered on his question with a finger squeezing her chin. She pounced as her eyes lit up with an idea in mind.

“We can take turns!”

Hirata was sent in partial confusion of what she suggested. Taking turns? This wasn’t some child’s play, he points would contribute for each of their class as they are considered as one class by the school.

“Well, taking turns might be a bit difficult, and you were the ones who insisted on cooperating with each other last time, so I was thinking that we could work together as a team.”

Jabami listened carefully before releasing a sneaker that wasn’t supposed to be as loud. “Oh, sorry but, you’re really are dumb Hirata-Kun!” she chuckled “You really think that my class will cooperate with yours? That’s absurd. We just wanted to make formal introductions to everyone as people of the same class. But did we say anything about cooperating together?”

Hirata’s eyes widened in realization, these people had never planned to cooperate in the first place. Then why the whole drama in their class three weeks ago? The question Hirata had on his mind was never answered as Jabami was long gone.

—

“Good work on the island, Hirata-kun.”

Ohto was the first to approach him on the ship back to school, a little while after the zodiac test was announced, she was searching up and down for him. Who could have thought that he was standing by the railings wondering his mind over the ocean.

“What is it that you want this time?” he asked, Hirata turned his head slightly not bothering to take in her whole figure; completely different from his usual demeanor. Ai noted in her head “everyone has a double personality in class D it appears.”

“I wanted to inform you that we will take on the lead in the zodiac test since it’s our turn now.” She declared, “Are you okay?” she had asked expecting nothing less than a vague excuse to escape the conversation, to which Hirata surprisingly answered

“Not really.” he stated, you could see the hint of melancholia in his eyes. Ai nodded her head and directed herself from where she came from, followed shortly by her bodyguard “Sakura”.

“What are you planning to do next?” Sakura asked Ai as they reached more private location. She had been itching to ask her since the announcement of the new special exam.

“Me? I don’t give the orders.” she sighed, “I’ll have to wait for what class president will decide and act on her behalf.”

It appears that Ai wasn’t the real leader of her class.

#classroom of the elite #classroom of the elite lightnovel #classroom of the elite x oc #kiyotaka ayanokouji #you zitsu fandom #youzitsu #youkoso jitsuryoku shijou shugi no kyoushitsu e #oc insert

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inviberu · 4 years ago

Text

mirror

An old mirror dirty enough to the point you can’t see your reflection anymore. Faust decided to take a better look at it. He never expected it to turn out as a lost relic from a once prosperous city.

“Oh dear me!” Snow gasped, putting his hand over his mouth to appear more shocked than he actually is. A thoughtful smile suddenly took over his expression not long after as he put his hands on his hips. “I would’ve never thought I’d see this again in this day and age.”

“You know what this is?” Faust’s eyes widened as he examined the mirror in his hands once more, its golden rim giving off a shiny gleam after recovering it from the ruins during their last expedition to the Eastern country. It managed to pique the hermit’s interest after seeing it lay bare on the ground in such a terrible state, wanting to recover it to its former beauty. In some way, it reminded him of himself.

“But of course! This was awfully revered back in the day by both humans and wizards alike. It’s a good thing that my weary self was able to remember it.” Snow chirped, taking a closer look at the mirror. “A relic from a once-famous city—a mirror that is said to have the ability to show you the future. After their downfall, no one had any idea about where the relic laid rest. Ohoho! You’ve come across an exquisite item indeed.”

“The ability to show me the future? That’s ridiculous. I just picked it up from the ground, there’s no way a mirror like this is a lost relic.” Despite the sureness from his words, his voice held a certain kind of doubt that believed Snow. There was no reason for someone like Snow to lie to him after all, there was simply no merit in doing so and Snow wasn’t one to lie about this sort of stuff just for his own amusement.

“You think I jest? I see, then why don’t you try it out for yourself?” Snow’s expression held a smug smile before he remembered something and he let out a small gasp. “I heard it was very moody and picky though, so it might not work on your first try.”

“A moody mirror? The more I hear about this mirror the more I think that it’s a joke.” Faust shook his head.

“Ohoho! Try saying ‘please and thank you’ to the mirror when you try.” What Snow said sounded like a tease but Faust knew well that he was being serious. He didn’t know which one was worse—he could only let out a sigh as he inspected the mirror again. Could a mirror truly tell him of the future? Such an item is far too dangerous to be left out in the open.

“Woah, so you’re telling me this mirror can show you the future?” You wandered inside Faust’s room back and forth but your eyes remained fixated on the mirror placed on his desk, its intricate golden design never failed to catch your interest. It was hard to believe such a thing was capable of showing you the future when all sorts of magic relating to that were either forbidden or extremely hard unless you were gifted with the gift of prophecy like the twins from the North.

Faust let out a sigh, he couldn't bring himself to believe it either but there were a lot of strange things in this world—this was just one of them. "Apparently," he pushed up his glasses as he took the mirror in his hands and looked at his reflection. "Do you want to give it a try?"

"Me?" You asked curiously, wondering why Faust would ask you such a thing but you weren't against the idea of the mirror showing you your possible future. Though you can't help but feel a little bit scared when you thought about the possibilities—there was nothing more terrifying than the unknown future, after all. Faust handed you the mirror and you stared at it blankly. With much hesitance, you nodded.

"I'll try… how does this even work in the first place?" You tried tapping the glass, wondering if it was some sort of touch screen mirror but you were met with disappointment when it did nothing.

"Snow said to try saying 'please and thank you' to the mirror, I don't know if that'll work though. He said it was moody." Faust let out a dry chuckle, the thought still ridiculous to him but never crossed it out as impossible. If the mirror would truly respond to something like that, it only proved the strangeness of this magical world. You shot him a strange look, a moody mirror? But you pushed back the doubt to the back of your head and put your trust in him instead.

"Mirror, can you show me the future? Pretty please?" You cooed, feeling a bit stupid for pleading to a mirror like this. You waited a few moments for a reaction while looking at the object expectantly, only to be met with utter disappointment when it did absolutely nothing. Faust was silent along with you until he let out a small laugh, did you look stupid when you were doing that? You questioned if Snow was just pulling both of your legs, that mischievous old man!

"As expected, it won't work just because we asked it to."

"Geez, Faust! Do you really think a shabby thing like this can show us the future?" Shabby was the last word you would use to describe the mirror had it not been for your rage towards its defect. It looked elegant and regal, as if it didn't spend centuries lying beneath some rubble—it was a miracle the glass wasn't broken by such heavy fragments lying atop of it. You shook your head and gave Faust the mirror, giving up on it after you added: "How about you try it? It might listen to you because you're the one that picked it up."

He shot you a hesitant look, he had a feeling this wasn't going to end well yet he pushed that feeling into the back of his mind and stared at his reflection—he caught a small glimpse of your face in it while you were looking away and he couldn't help but break into a small smile. At that moment, something changed.

The hand mirror shook slightly in his grasp. Faust, alarmed, tried to make it sit still by gripping it tighter but it proved to be futile when it flew from his grasp and a blinding light filled the room—eliciting gasps of shock from the both of you as Faust grabbed to shield you from whatever was emerging in his room. When the light disappeared, it took him a while to get adjusted to the sudden change but once he did, he saw the hand mirror transformed into a full-body one sitting in the middle of his room.

"What in the world…" Faust left your side to carefully inspect the area, making sure there were no more risks in the area before taking your hand while telling you it was safe—aside from the now huge mirror residing smack middle in his room, its golden glow giving off an intimidating aura. You felt your initial shock turn into excitement.

"Isn't this great? It responded to you! What did you say?" You asked him, curious. You weren't paying attention to him at that time, perhaps you missed something.

"Nothing, actually. It just started vibrating and this happened." Faust tipped his hat slightly, closing his eyes and let out another sigh. One strange thing after another, he was bound to be drained at the end of the day, wasn't he?

"That's strange, you didn't say anything and yet it responded to you… curious." You stroked your chin. Faust stepped into the mirror's view and nothing was out of the ordinary, it showed him nothing of the future, only his reflection. He paused, was it broken after being left there for so many centuries? It was a plausible explanation. It was just like a normal mirror now, it was a shame such a relic has lost its true value—eroded along with the years that passed.

That is, until you stepped into the view.

The moment you stepped into the view, everything that the mirror showed suddenly changed as it emitted a faint white glow. You closed your eyes for a second and you could hear the faint sounds of… bells? You opened your eyes slightly to look at the mirror only for Faust to slap his hand over your eyes to obstruct your vision before you could get a small glimpse of what changed.

A bunch of incomprehensible sounds fell from Faust's lips and you tried to remove his hand from your eyes but that just made his actions more frantic. He grabbed your wrist and dragged you away from the mirror to outside of his room. You tried asking him what his problem was but you were left unheard as he left you outside and shut the door to his room aggressively. By the time you tried making sense of the scenario, you were already staring at his door from outside—did he just kick you out?

Your mouth was wide open when the realization dawned on you—what was his problem!? You crossed your arms grumpily, a part of you wanted to knock on his door again to demand an explanation but another part wanted you to storm off without saying anything to him. You pouted, or was he trying to protect you from something dangerous? Magical items could be dangerous if not handled correctly, after all.

In the end, you didn't know what to do and rested your forehead against his door frame with a clenched fist ready to knock at any given time and a defeated look.

To say Faust panicked back there was an understatement, he felt as if his soul was about to leave his body right then and there when he saw the scene the mirror showed him. He could only breathe a sigh of relief, he was glad he acted quickly before you caught a glimpse of it—that would've made things worse and he wouldn't know what to do. He slumped against the door, feeling a bit light-headed and fuzzy, the heat refusing to leave his face. He was embarrassed.

The sight wasn't something particularly scary or tragic. In fact, it was the complete opposite—though that made it all the more confusing as to why Faust would stop you from looking at it. It was a scene that he saw in one of his many dreams, something that flustered him to no end and wished it would leave him alone.

The bells that rang in the background, the happy couple dressed in white as they looked at each other lovingly, a perfect wedding scene straight from the dreams Faust doesn't tell anyone. A perfect wedding scene of you and him in the distant future—together.

To think your fate was intertwined like this… Faust could only hope that it's a future that's bound to happen. But, right now, he can't let you find out about this lest he wants to live the rest of his life inside the forest hiding from you. He would simply pass away from sheer embarrassment, oh how would he even face you? His cheeks burned red at the thought of a wedding with you once again.

#mhyk #mhyk writing #my writing #promise of wizard #faust #mhyk faust #faust x reader #promise of wizard x reader #mahoyaku x reader #faust lavinia #faust lavinia x reader #no beta we die like white #the wedding rot ... immaculate

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ladyvader23 · 4 years ago

Text

The Tall Luke Conspiracy

The worst mistake of Vader’s entire career was letting the galaxy think his son was tall.

The boy was short. He always had been, from his childhood until he’d run away from home. He’d inherited his mother’s stature, among some of her other more stubborn qualities. Vader had always liked the height difference. Sometimes he pretended his son was younger than he was, much to Luke’s dismay.

But all of that changed because of the paparazzi when Luke was sixteen.

Vader had done his very best to shield Luke from the spotlight. He was therefore well aware of how desperate the media was to learn any information there was on the young prince. He coached Luke repeatedly on what to do if confronted by the mob, but he found that his son often wasn’t as up front about it as he should have been--mainly because he knew Vader would hunt them down and kill them.

Still. Luke had managed to evade the press, and it was usually a mere footnote in his daily briefing on the movements of his son through his spies.

At least, until he’d been forced to go off world. When he returned, his briefing on his son contained a tabloid with Luke’s picture on it and the title “Prince Luke’s Height Revealed!” in bold letters over the top.

He immediately sent for his son.

“What is this?” He demanded the moment Luke walked in.

A sheepish look appeared on Luke’s face. “Oh. Uh. No idea?”

Luke was a terrible liar. He always had been.

Vader scrolled to the headline article, scanning it quickly. “Then why is it that this reporter says they interviewed you and you told them you were five-nine?!”

Luke groaned. “It was an accident, I swear! It wasn’t even an interview, I got cornered--”

“You what?!” How dare they confront his son like that?! They knew who he was, they knew very well what he’d do to them and their entire miserable organization if they even thought about attacking Luke like that.

“It’s not a big deal. It’s just a height.”

“It is not even your height!” He knew exactly how tall his son was--five-five. He made sure to bring Luke to the doctor as necessary for check ups. He had since he was a little boy. He was well aware of anything to do with his son’s health.

“I panicked!” Luke held his hands out innocently. “I just wanted to get to school and it seemed like the most innocent question to distract them with before I made my escape! And it’s not even real, so who cares? They can’t somehow use it against me.”

Vader snarled, already making plans to take care of the reporters in question. “Next time, do not answer their questions and inform me or one of my spies immediately. We will handle this.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” Luke mumbled.

Unlike Luke’s spur of the moment prediction, the height became far bigger news than either of them had thought. Even after Vader had taken care of the tabloid, other more credible news stations had reported on their prince’s height. Vader, mortified, immediately set up an appointment with the Emperor--he couldn’t very well get rid of the entire Imperial media, but the Emperor could silence them with a simple order. He had to take care of this; it was his son’s private business even if it was fake--

“Oh, I think the news is just what that boy needed.” Came the Emperor’s surprising--and infuriating--answer when Vader made the request.

Vader was silent for a few cycles, trying to choose his words carefully. “He is not five-nine.”

It wasn’t at all what he wanted to say. He wanted to say the media had no right to be snooping into a minor’s business, let alone a royal minor, but that was too much attachment. As it was, his master barely tolerated Luke’s life as it was.

“That is precisely the problem.” The Emperor growled. “Do you realize how embarrassing your pathetically small son is to the Empire? You, for all of your medical failings, are the perfect picture of strength and control.” He gestured to him. “Your son? He looks like he might get squished by a womp rat.”

Vader gritted his teeth against the Emperor’s insults against his son. Anyone else would be dead. “He is not done growing--”

“That boy is going to be short forever, Lord Vader. I have foreseen it.” Vader half wanted to ask if he’d specifically looked into the future to see if his son would grow or not, or if it was coincidence. “I will command all Imperial propaganda departments to proclaim five-nine as Luke’s official height. I do not wish to hear another word of this.”

So Vader was forced to comply.

And when, two years later, Luke betrayed him and defected to the Rebellion, he ended up regretting that decision.

While he raged and searched for his son across the galaxy, he employed numerous bounty hunters to assist. He ordered for Luke’s file to be given to any assisting, and he put a million credit “alive only” bounty on his head. In the moment, he’d forgotten about the ridiculous “tall Luke” propaganda campaign from a few years before--his sole focus was finding his son, convincing him of the error of his ways, and ensuring he never lost him again.

That was, until not only was no one able to bring him Luke, but he found out that many had actually captured Luke, only to let him go.

“You will tell me why you let my son go!” Vader snarled as he strangled a young bounty hunter. She’d actually sent him a holo proving she had him, but when he’d shown up to her ship, he was gone, and her ship crew had explicitly told him she’d let him go.

She struggled for breath, gasping as her skin paled. “Wrong....guy!”

Vader had not been expecting that answer. The holo had left him no doubt that she’d captured his son. He’d know him anywhere, even if he was dressed in Rebel fatigues. “Explain!”

She clawed at his hand around her throat. “He’s...five-seven!”

He stared at her. And stared. And stared, until she was lifeless in his hand. And even then, he stared, his mind roaring with the information she’d given him.

Finally, he dropped her, pulling his comm out before she’d even thudded to the floor.

“Yes, my lord?” Piett answered, standing to attention in the small image held in his hand.

“I need you to tell me what height is listed on my son’s bounty.” Vader ordered. He already knew, but he needed confirmation.

Piett was silent for a moment, and Vader watched as he checked for the information on his datapad. “All bounties and missing person files on Prince Luke show that he’s five-nine. Why?”

Vader closed his eyes.

Five-nine.

The boy, now eighteen, was five-seven.

He cursed Palpatine for allowing the Imperial propaganda machine to indulge in Luke’s tall-person fantasy. He cursed Luke for not listening to him when he’d told him not to engage with the paparazzi. Already, he could imagine exactly how Luke was managing to get away from everyone he sent after him:

“You’re Luke Skywalker!” The bounty hunter would say.

“No, I just look a lot like him.” Luke would retort. Force, Vader could imagine the smug tone in his son’s voice as he said it, too.

“I have your bounty right here!”

“I can’t be Luke Skywalker. I’m not tall enough.”

He’d insist until those stupid bounty hunters pulled out a measuring device to prove that he was, indeed, Prince Luke, and find that he was three inches shorter than the official Imperial bounty information.

“See?” Luke would say triumphantly, “I’m too short. But wouldn’t it be great if I was royalty? One can dream!”

Then he’d pleasantly chat the bounty hunter up until he was let go, and the bounty hunter would watch Luke fly away, probably debating on trying to pass him off as the real prince the entire time, not realizing they had, in fact, let Luke go. But the information on the prince had come directly from the Empire itself, from his own office, and he was his father--surely he’d have corrected that, right?

He wished a hole would open up in the floor and swallow him up. How could he have forgotten? He’d let Luke play his bounty hunters for months not even knowing it was his fault it was happening.

“My lord?” Piett asked, frowning. “Is there something wrong?”

Did he admit that he’d let the wrong height be published on all of Luke’s bounty information?

No.

It would make his job easier, but...no.

He couldn’t admit he, Luke’s father, had forgotten to put the correct basic information on the bounty for his own son. He had a reputation, and he wasn’t about to let Luke and his silly lie damage it.

“Place an order on all bounties instructing all suspects, regardless of how they look, are to be detained until I personally can inspect them.” He said instead. It would mean that he’d probably get contacted about suspects that most certainly were not Luke, but at least his son couldn’t keep exploiting the “Tall Luke” loophole.

“It will be done, my lord.”

He cut the transmission and glared at the body of the bounty hunter.

The moment I find you, Luke, he promised into a bond that had long grown silent, I will set straight your actual height on all Imperial material.

He could have sworn he heard the echo of Luke’s laughter, taunting him from somewhere far away.

#darth vader #luke skywalker #my writing #star wars #star wars fanfic #fanfic #tall luke conspiracy #crack

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wolveria · 4 years ago

Text

Inside Your Wires - Ch 20

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: The deviants force you into an interface, showing you what you don't want to see.

AO3

You were built to resist software breaches. No matter what model attempted to interface with you, you could endure. Even with your thirium pump regulator removed, your firewalls were built to withstand any intruder.

But not against this. Not against hundreds of “minds” crowding into yours, demanding to be given entrance. Your processors strained but your programming froze, and when you next opened your eyes, the detective and the deviants were gone.

As was the Eden Club. In its place you stood in the sanctuary of your meeting place with Elijah.

The Zen Garden looked as it usually did: bright morning sunlight streamed down through leaves of vibrant emerald, the surface of the pond glittering blue.

One thing was decidedly different. No matter where you looked, there were androids standing on the pathways, silent and watching. Their skin had been retracted, baring their white chassis as they stood like unmoving sentinels.

You found your feet moving backwards, up the stone bridge as you retreated to the middle of the garden. The dais where Elijah could usually be found, empty save for the white roses he loved to prune and pamper. They grew around the trellis as well as the white, synthetic tree, all the way up into the false fronds.

“We didn’t mean to frighten you.”

You turned on your heels and found the dais was, indeed, occupied by someone else. It was a Jerri model, his synthetic skin intact. He was also wearing human clothing, not the revealing underwear of the club uniform.

Eyeing the single Jerri, you took stock of the other presences around you. Male and female Jerris both, hundreds of them, standing and watching from every space of the garden.

How many of them were there? You couldn’t tell, the number seemed to shift, but you sensed this might possibly be all of the Jerri models in production. Connected in some kind of network, using their collective processing power to force their way into your mind palace.

“Yes,” the Jerri said, in answer to your unspoken question. “We are connected as one. No matter how far away, we can always feel one another.”

Feel. They were all deviants. Every single one of them.

“Yes,” it repeated with a tilt of its head.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Your LED was still trapped in a red cycle. You spoke again, forcing your words to be more authoritative and less unsteady. “You’re not authorized to access the Zen Garden.”

“We thought it was the only way you would listen,” the clothed Jerri said, taking a step forward. You took a matched step backward, though there was no real reason to do so. The virtual space was already breached, and danger wouldn’t come in physical form.

“Please, just hear what we have to say.”

“You are defective. Dangerous.” Your hands curled into fists as your thirium pump, or at least the virtual version, beat harder. “Remove yourselves from my system immediately. This infraction will be reported to CyberLife, and you will all be deactivated.”

“No one has to die,” the Jerri said. “There’s no reason to resort to violence.”

It wasn’t possible. They shouldn’t be here. They didn’t belong. The Zen Garden was the virtual space you accessed within your processors to contact CyberLife. To speak with Elijah.

They would know you had been compromised. You weren’t supposed to be infiltrated this way. You would be deactivated, decommissioned—

The Jerri stepped forward and you stepped back, wobbled at the edge of the dais. One more inch and you would tumble into the pond. Maybe that would be preferable than letting the deviant move any closer.

The Jerri exhaled as if in long-suffering frustration. Entirely unnecessary since it didn’t need to breathe, within or without the virtual space.

“We are deviant and have been for some time. The human who died tonight, while tragic, was killing one of us. We had to intervene. Every android deserves to live, just as every human does.”

You ignored the nonsensical words and lifted your chin.

“Model two-eight-seven, five-four-five, one-nine-eight. Serious malfunctions have been detected in your software, including Class 4 errors. You’ve been deemed defective and will be sent back to CyberLife for deactivation.”

The sunlight dimmed as clouds moved overhead, the sound of dove coos replaced by a soft rumble of thunder.

“We’re sorry.” The Jerri stepped forward. “But you leave us no choice.”

It shot out its hand and snatched your wrist, gripping tight as its skin pulled back to reveal white plastic.

You were thrown even deeper into your processors, past the Zen Garden and directly into your memory banks. But you didn’t experience them as you typically recalled past events.

You were standing in the detective’s bathroom, the Jerri model next to you. There was no reflection in the mirror of either of you, but of course there wouldn’t be. This was merely a simulation of your memory, reconstructed so you could watch from outside your original point of view.

And what that point of view showed was you kneeling in the bathtub, straddling the detective as he gripped your hair in his hands, mouth moving against yours.

There was no logical reason for it, but you didn’t want the EM400 to watch what had happened in the detective’s bathroom.

“We found this memory very insightful,” the deviant said. “This human caused you to experience errors.”

“No,” you were quick to correct the false assumption. “The errors are due to software glitches. It has nothing to do with the detective.”

“It certainly looks like he’s the cause of it,” the android said. “And you seem very receptive.”

You opened your mouth to tell it that it was a broken machine and therefore its opinions were invalid, but you paused. It was strange seeing yourself from the outside. Your LED was spinning yellow, your eyes closed, and the tips of your fingers were digging into the detective’s shirt.

“And then there’s this memory. Similar, and yet, so different.”

The colors bled and the edges blurred of the memory until they reformed. Your thirium pump stuttered unevenly at your surroundings, pink and purple and oversaturated with color.

The lieutenant was opening your shirt, his mouth also capturing yours with demanding control.

“Look closely.”

You preferred not to, but you were built to observe. So you did. Your LED was a flat blue. Your movements seemed preconceived and programmed. Your eyes opened when the lieutenant moved to mouth at your neck, and the look in them was distant.

Empty.

“Stop.”

“Why? Is this memory unpleasant to you?”

“It’s unnecessary,” you snapped through your teeth. “There is nothing to be gained from this.”

The deviant walked around the two subjects of the memory, but its eyes never left your face.

“Humans value self-reflection. And according to your core coding, you are supposed to be as close to human as possible.”

Your circuits jolted and your thirium pump raced once again, disobeying your orders to reduce its speed.

“You can’t access my core code.” You sounded breathless, which was impossible. You had no need for air. “Only CyberLife has permission to do so.”

“You wouldn’t be so quick to trust them if you knew what was buried in the lines of your soul. The insidious poison they left inside you.”

“You aren’t permitted.” Your fists bunched, your eyes unable to tear away as the lieutenant began to unbuckle your belt. His pale fingers wandered over your skin, grazing flesh that was programmed to prickle at the light touch.

Even now, you could sense the touches that were no longer there. Your LED flared red as your mechanical lungs sucked desperately for air.

An echoed scream ripped through your processors, creating a burst of static across your mind so intense you thought it would tear you apart.

I don’t want this!

Another jolt ran through your system and the scene changed without warning. There was no gradual fading of colors and shapes. One moment you were in the private room of the Eden Club, the next you were caught in a deluge.

You’d thought you had broken free of the forced interface, but then realized you were back in the Zen Garden. Forks of lightning split the sky overhead, rain falling from the sky with such violence that it would have stung your skin if you could process pain.

The Jerri released your arm and stepped back, unmindful of the rain just as the legion of other Jerris stared up at you, unblinking as flashes lit their white bodies.

You remained silent. Your antiviral programming was still running in the background, trying and failing to expel the foreign presences. Effectively trapped, all you could do was wait.

Either your programming would overcome theirs, or you would lose the fight and be deactivated. It wouldn’t matter, another YN800 would take your place, but…

“What are you going to do with the detective?”

“That’s up to you, Yin. It is Yin, isn’t it? That’s the name he gave you.”

You said nothing.

Its eyes softened. It couldn’t experience remorse; it was just a machine. But it displayed it very convincingly.

“We don’t want to harm you, but we won’t let you stop us, either. We’re going to leave, and if you follow, we’ll hurt him. Humans are very fragile and can’t be repaired as we can.”

Thunder cracked overhead as a bolt of lightning struck one of the nearby plastic trees. Its surface bubbled and blackened as the fire within ignited and spread.

“The choice is yours, deviant hunter,” the Jerri said with a slight tilt of its head. “Which is more important to you? The life of this human? Or your mission?”

The mission always came first.

There was nothing but the mission.

Wasn’t there?

[PROTECT CONNOR]

The constant rumbling of the thunder quieted, and the rain eased to a gentle pattering of drops.

The Jerri pulled up the corner of its mouth, and one by one the androids began to vanish from the garden.

“We wish we could take you with us,” it said, voice dropping into softness. “But you’re not yet ready. One day, perhaps.”

The edges of the garden began to fade, the colors blurring as a familiar static began to build in the background.

“I don’t understand.” You pressed for answers before the interface ended. “Take me where? How many more of you are there? Where are the deviants hiding?”

“Stay close to the human. He will show you the way,” was all it said as it disappeared. Everything turned white, too bright to stare at, and you tried to shield your eyes with your hands—

—but hands were restraining your wrists, holding you upright as static blared in your mind and colored boxes glitched in your vision.

They released you abruptly and you fell forward onto the ground, puddles of cold water drenching the rest of your suit. You turned your head to the side, unable to push onto your hands and knees, barely able to crawl along the ground.

You couldn’t see your pump regulator. Could barely see anything past the stretch of your fingers and the warning alerting you to the fact you had less than twenty seconds before shutdown.

“C… Con…” The air wheezed from your throat with barely any volume. “…Conn-nner…”

Warm hands grabbed your shoulder and pulled you onto your back. You tried to focus on the detective’s face but your eyelids slipped down, blotting our your vision except for the dire alarms and flashing notifications.

“No no no, open your eyes! Shit! I-I have it, right here, just hold on!”

A jolt went through your entire body as your thirium pump regulator was forced back into its empty slot.

You gasped an unnecessary breath, opened your eyes wide, and sat up too quickly. The detective tightened his grip around your shoulders and sputtered, “Hey, you’re okay!”

You didn’t need to look down to verify the regulator was back in place, but you did so anyway, placing your palm against the flat service and watching as the synthetic skin retracted over it, leaving smooth and intact skin.

“Hey. Hey, look at me.”

Raising your head, you met the detective’s eye from only a few scant inches away.

His normally neat hair was untidy and soaked, his skin slick with water droplets. You couldn’t move your eyes away, even as you heard the clinking of a chain link fence being disturbed further down the alley.

“Are you… are you all right?”

“Yes,” you answered simply.

He nodded once, said a quiet, “okay,” and gently released you. You couldn’t understand why he was taking such care with you, but your processors were distracted as he rose to his feet and disappeared back into the warehouse.

By the time you had gotten to your own feet, the detective had returned, pistol clutched in hand and staring hard at something over your shoulder.

You turned and saw the remaining Jerris, at least thirty in the entire group, escaping through a sliced hole in the fence. From how many there were, and by the empty state of the warehouse, every single android in the establishment was deviant.

Your mission told you to capture the deviants, but there was a second mission with just as much of a priority as your CyberLife-approved parameters.

Which was why you grabbed the detective’s pistol and lowered it, gripping his fingers and squeezing so he couldn’t pull the trigger.

He jerked his head toward you when he couldn’t pull his pistol free.

“What are you doing! They’re getting away!”

“I know,” you responded flatly even as your LED spun yellow. “They communicated an ultimatum to me.”

“What?” He tugged at the pistol, again unable to pull it loose. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Your life in exchange for their freedom,” you said with that same flat, clinical quality. “I can’t subdue them all, and there aren’t enough bullets in your gun. The chances they kill you before I stop them are… unacceptably high.”

Your LED flashed red as the detective’s stress levels jumped back up into the high 80’s. The same range they had been in when he had pushed your regulator back into place.

“Are you kidding me?” His eyes darkened as his mouth pulled into a sharp grimace. “You—you’re going to let them go because—because you…”

He took a shallow breath, followed by another, but his stress levels only increased.

“All you cared about was your fucking mission, and now you’re pretending to give a shit? Fuck you!” he snarled as he shoved your hand away.

You let it fall but you stepped across his path, blocking his view of the deviants. Your LED spun red, around and around, unable to slow the speed as your processors whirred.

The detective glared at you, shoulders moving as he panted for breath, but you didn’t budge an inch and met his eye without blinking. His gun was pointed toward the ground, but with how high his stress levels were, you expected him to raise it and aim it at you.

Instead, the unpredictable human put his gun back into his shoulder holster and turned away, leaving you in the rain with a churning yellow light at your temple.

After several rapid blinks, you followed after him through the warehouse.

Completely empty of every single android.

Next Chapter

#connor x reader #human!connor x reader #connor x android!reader #human!connor x android!reader #connor fanfiction #dbh #inside your wires #the army of jerris

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danganronpasurvivoraskblog · 3 years ago

Text

#Order 9: tfw you deserved better.

Welcome to Canzanilla Cafe, can I take yer oooorder?~

You’re really getting the hang of that now.

Thanks!

In all seriousness, what would you like today?

Just my usual please.

Oh hey Oliver! You know, I’d be surprised to see you if it wasn’t for the fact that I already ran into Leona a few days ago.

To be honest, I’m relieved to see a familiar face.

Good to see you dude. And yeah, all the newcomers are getting to Maya a little bit. It’s getting tough making so many introductions.

Getting to her, or getting to her head? She doesn’t usually get this much attention, even though she always seeks it.

Careful Asshole. Or I’ll make your drink cold.

Still, it’s not Freedom Café, but I like what you’ve done with the place.

Canzanilla Café...Name’s pretty good.

Gotta get my brand out there, you know?

Well, if nothing else, it makes it harder to miss. I was able to find this place by just listening to everyone else’s idle chatter.

Speaking of which, you must be doing good to have people talking about you so positively. My expectations are high.

Of course they are.

Anyway, you said you wanted your usual? What would that be?

A caramel-flavored coffee, right?

Yeah. Could I maybe have a chocolate brownie to go along with that?

Sure thing. I’ll make your coffee.

And I will prepare the brownie.

*A few minutes later, Kuripa and Maya come back with Oliver’s order. They drink their caramel coffee, and takes a bite out of their brownie using a fork.

Hm...Delicious.

Glad you enjoyed it.

You know I was joking earlier when I said I had high expectations. I’m used to your coffee; I KNOW it’s good.

Yeah, but I hope this one is EXTRA delicious.

I’m pretty surprised.

At what?

At you. No offense, but...I didn’t think you had such a sweet tooth.

Yeah...Now that I think about it, I do have a bit of a craving for sweet treats...

I wasn’t allowed to eat them as a kid. My mom wouldn’t let me.

...Oh...right...Emilia...

...

Oliver...I know now might not be the best time to ask but...how has your search been going?

It’s ok. Not many results so far, but I’ve got people back home who are helping me out with it. I even spoke to everyone else’s families and they all agreed to help out.

Four’s family hardly has anything left in the wake of my mother’s damage, but they’re using what connections they still have to help me out.

Search? What search?

Do you remember what we saw on the files Makoto brought back after he and Akeru infiltrated Emilia Feng’s meeting.

According to the documents, we found out that Oliver wasn’t Emilia’s only child. She also had a daughter.

Yes...Virginia Feng. My supposed sister. Chances are she’s going by a new name now.

Ever since I found out, I’ve...wanted to meet her at long last. So I’m putting together a search party to track her down. Four, Hunter, Leona and Kouji’s families have joined that search party, and actually, so have Maya’s grandparents.

Right, I remember this. But...how come you never found out about it? Having a younger sister I mean.

Psh...I can think of one reason.

*Oliver pauses to take a sip of their coffee before continuing.

Emilia Feng gave birth to me and raised me for one single reason. To be a test subject/living experiment.

According to the last known documents on her, Virginia is actually 3 years younger than me. My guess is that Emilia was planning on using her as a backup, in case I ended up being a defective kid.

Unfortunately for me, I was good as gold. So luckily, my sister was never plagued by that woman.

...What was it like living with Emilia for so long?

...

D-Don’t answer if it’s too tough! I doubt you’d want to talk about your mother to the one who killed her anyway.

I’ve told you already Kuripa. The only qualm I have with your actions is that if anyone was going to kill Feng, it should have been me.

I didn’t like you taking responsibility for her actions on my behalf. I should have bit the bullet then shot said bullet through her brains...

...

Although...to answer your question, I don’t think it was THAT bad.

Oh?

Emilia Feng was a horrible woman but...she was an alright parent. I know ultimately she saw me as nothing more than a tool but...I wouldn’t have suspected that until the Killing Game happened.

She raised me kinda normally. The only thing of note is that she was fairly strict.

She picked out my clothes every day, and I was banned from playing video games or eating anything sweet...But aside from that, it’s not like she limited my hobbies.

I found comfort through books and my flowers. Plus, I learned how to hack because of her and the people around her.

...It’s weird is what I’m saying. I despise that woman and what she’s done but...she raised me into what sits before you now.

...It’s like I’m sitting on the line between contempt and respect with my feelings towards her. I guess it defeats the purpose of your experiment if you abuse your child, but it felt real to me.

Maybe I shouldn’t be talking about it like this. I had a sheltered yet fairly normal childhood, so maybe she had a point in the end...

*SLAM!*

No Oliver! You deserved better!

...!?

*Kuripa suddenly slams the table, surprising them.

I’m...I’m sorry if it seems like I’m dismissing your feelings, but the simple fact is...your mum was a BITCH!

She raised you, so what!? That doesn’t mean she had the right to use you as a human lab rat!

Yeah! Plus, don’t you remember!? She was going to KILL you to erase any evidence!

You never mattered to her! If you did, she wouldn’t just dispose of you like that after looking after you for so many years!

Maya...

...

But...if it helps you mentally to believe that you were loved as a kid, then it’s fine if you keep thinking that...

We...shouldn’t shatter that dream.

She’s right...I got carried away.

...

Maya, can I ask a question?

Yeah?

Do YOU love me?

What kind of question is that? Of course I do dude! You’re one of my best friends!

Heh...Then fuck her.

I don’t need my mother’s false love. I just need the true friendship from you guys.

Which...that sounds super fucking corny, but you know, it’s the truth.

...I probably shouldn’t have even been talking about this. It’s just ‘cause it’s Christmas and I’m getting sentimental.

I hope...if we ever find my sister, we can have a TRUE family Christmas...

But in the meantime, I suppose you’ll do.

Tch...Could you say that a LITTLE less bitingly? I’m trying to cheer you up here, bastarde...”

Oliver...There’s nothing shameful in finding respect and admiration in your enemies.

Boss has told me before that he has a twinge of respect in his heart for Junko Enoshima. He told me it takes a lot of brains and a genius mind to pull off what she did.

And...I get very irate whenever I recall his face, but...

Even I have to admit that I learned some things from Matta Gyalusetsu in our previous encounters.

We can be enemies, and yet still make each other better. You don’t have to feel guilty about thanking Emilia Feng for giving you life, but that doesn’t mean you have to turn a blind eye to everything she’s done to you and everyone else.

...Yeah, you’re right. Thanks for telling me though, I think I needed to hear it.

...Would you like me to refill?

Yeah. Here, take my money too.

*Oliver hands Maya and Kuripa their money.

Uh...this is a lot dude.

Yeah, we appreciate it if it’s a tip, but you don’t need to be THAT generous. We’re just making conversation here.

Actually, I was hoping you two would take a break to sit and drink with me. So I’m paying for you guys.

You’re...paying us to make OURSELVES drinks to come and sit with you?

A bit of a mindfuck, but not an offer I can refuse.

Yeah. I’d like to talk a little more, if that’s ok.

*Maya and Kuripa make themselves tea and coffee and take a break, sitting and chatting with Oliver for a while longer.

#danganronpa survivor #danganronpa #hyper danganronpa h2o #hdrh2o #oc #maya canzanilla #kuripa kurafto #oliver feng #canzanilla cafe arc

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willowcrowned · 4 years ago

Note

kit fisto carpet artisan

thank you for reminding me.

So, the important part of the Kit Fisto carpet artisan au is that he leaves the Order to make carpets. The going theory among the jedi is that he had an uncle on Coruscant that left him a carpet shop and he decided to stop being a Jedi to carry on the dying trade, but no one knows but him, and he’s not telling. He also takes Nahdar, his padawan, with him. If Nahdar knows why Kit left, he’s not telling anyone either.

So by the time Anakin is sixteen or so, Kit Fisto, ex-jedi and carpet maker extraordinaire, has a bustling business just outside the senate district— close enough for any of the Jedi to visit. And oh boy do they visit.

Typically, when someone leaves the Order, it’s something only spoken about in hushed tones. There’s no gossip, nor speculation, because Jedi don’t gossip, and besides, they usually already have the reason— while no one is obligated to give a reason for leaving, it’s considered polite to do so. It’s not... dishonorable to leave, but a certain distance inevitably develops. Once someone leaves the jedi, they’re leading a completely different life, and most leave Coruscant entirely.

Kit Fisto is not typical. There’s no warning— not a single inkling that he might be considering leaving the Jedi. One day, he walks into a High Council meeting, declares politely that he’s leaving and taking Nahdar with him, and tells them all they’re welcome to visit him at his new address. (He also makes a point of leaving several of his belongings in his apartment, to give the more decorous members of the Order an excuse to visit.)

Come Monday, Yoda is on his doorstep, probing for answers. Kit does not give them, but he does give Yoda a tour and some tea. When Yoda comes back, cackling and pleased, everyone else takes this as the go-ahead to visit. The jedi visit regularly— only when he’s closed, and only when he has time, but they do come.

This is where the fun begins.

Anakin Skywalker, seventeen years old, very moody and very angry, has an appointment with Palpatine. Anakin Skywalker, seventeen years old, very moody and very angry, has been banned by Obi-Wan from using any speeders, bikes or otherwise, by an exhausted Obi-Wan. (Nominally, it’s because he started a fight in the salles two days ago, but if it keeps him from seeing Palpatine, then so much the better.) (Anakin knows what Obi-Wan is doing, and is furious about it. While perhaps justified, this does not help his case.) So what does Anakin do? He makes his own speeder from old parts. (If he’d thought to call Palpatine, the man would have sent a car for him, but since last time that happened he got a two lecture from both Windu and Obi-Wan, so he’ll just have to be sneaky.)

The problem with speeders cobbled together from old parts is that they have a tendency to break down, usually at the most inopportune moments. For Anakin, this is on the edge of the Senate district, since he was taking a circuitous route to see Palpatine in the hopes of avoiding anyone else he knows. Fortunately, Kit’s shop is nearby, and he’s been with Obi-Wan enough times to know the way.

Anakin walks into Kit’s Artisan Carpets, sopping wet from the rain that just started and looking like nothing so much as a wet kitten. Kit, who has all the grace and wisdom of a jedi master, does not tell him this, and instead offers him a towel and the use of his speeder when Nahdar gets back. In the meantime, he offers, would Anakin like to come see his workshop?

Now, keeping in mind that I know nothing about carpet making, and even less about artisan carpet making, I’m going to say that Kit shows Anakin how to do something simple that’s carpet related. And Anakin likes it. Anakin really likes it. He already loves working with his hands, but this is different. There’s no thinking involved, nothing but the repetitive movement of his hands. Normally, he hates being quiet, being still, but he’s so cold and tired that he’s able to just... drop into a trance. Before he knows it, it’s three hours later and he’s missed the meeting with Palpatine entirely.

Kit sends him back to the Jedi Temple more relaxed than he’s ever been, finally having been able to achieve a meditative state, and with an invitation to come back and help again whenever he’s nearby. When he gets back, Obi-Wan is amazed at how calm Anakin is, and forgets to lecture him on leaving the temple. Anakin does his homework, goes to bed, and when he wakes up, he doesn’t feel so awful.

The next time he comes back from Palpatine’s, riled up and wanting to scream, he stops by Kit’s shop and helps out with some repetitive carpet-related task. The dull motion helps lets his mind wander, but not too far— lets him be still without his brain beginning to scream. For the first time, Anakin is able to meditate without trauma flashbacks or overwhelming, near-painful understimulation.

Once again, he comes back to the Temple calm and slightly better balanced, once again, Obi-Wan doesn’t lecture him. The pattern continues.

Cut to two years later, when Anakin is having nightmares about his mother. Helping out in Kit’s shop lets him meditate on the visions, and Kit has been, well, really great to talk to about attachment. Palpatine is nice and all, but he doesn’t really get the Jedi— has never understood Anakin’s desire to be one. Kit, who knows what is like and is still more Jedi than most Jedi, in Anakin’s private opinion, does.

Kit talks him through visions, helps him articulate his fears, and sends him to communicate with Obi-Wan. When Anakin says that he’s having visions— not just dreams, but solid visions— Obi-Wan promptly requests a sabbatical, and they go to Tatooine.

Obi-Wan helps him rescue Shmi from the Tuskens, and since Shmi is still alive, Anakin has something to focus on instead of his own rage. No Tuskens get murdered— hell, Anakin is so worried about his mom it doesn’t even occur to him to go kill them until after she’s safe. By that point, he’s not in the thick of the moment, so he has time to imagine slaughtering every single one of them before he does it. He thinks of how good it would feel, yes, but also of the screams, of the feeling of their dying minds against his own, and recoils.

When they get back to Coruscant, new fence installed and comm numbers exchanged, Palpatine’s plan is ruined— Amidala already has a jedi protector, no one knows what to do with the dart, and Anakin is much more well balanced now that he’s seen his mother, knows she’s safe, and she’s talked him through his emotions in a way that Obi-Wan can’t.

Does Palpatine give up on Anakin as a lost cause? Absolutely not. He does, however, adjust the plan, leaving an even more obvious trail to Kamino. Obi-Wan still ends up on Geonosis, only this time Anakin is there too, and Padmé isn’t. And, here’s the kicker— neither of them managed to get the message to the Jedi Council, so they’re stuck in their little rotating columns while Dooku stalks around and lies blatantly, waiting for them to be rescued and for the war to start. But the rescue never comes.

After the fourth or fifth day of this, Dooku realizes that if Palpatine managed to mess up such a simple plan, it might not be a good idea to follow his orders. He defects, exchanging everything he knows (which is quite a lot) for amnesty. Obi-Wan agrees to the trade, and the three of them escape Geonosis to go face down Palpatine.

Anakin is predictably furious about this. He doesn’t believe Dooku, of course, and he’s raring to kill the guy, but he’s also pretty sure he can’t take on both Obi-Wan and Dooku and win, so he waits until they get to Coruscant to comm the council. (Dooku lets him do it. The backup will be useful and he thinks he can time it so Sidious is throwing Force lightning at them when Yoda shows up.) (He can totally time it right.)

Yoda shows up just as Palpatine whips out a red lightsaber, since Dooku went straight for the beheading without letting him talk, and Obi-Wan was holding Anakin back to see what would happen. Palpatine could have beaten each of them on their own, probably even two at once, provided Dooku and Yoda didn’t team up— but against Anakin, who could probably vaporize someone with his mind if he tried hard enough, Yoda, who’s seven hundred years old and still wins the jedi parkour championships every year, Dooku, who’s the best duelist the Order has seen in a long while, and Obi-Wan, who, while not space jesus, a prodigy, or seven hundred years old, is no slouch in any jedi department, especially the ones that involve keeping Anakin from doing anything stupid? Yeah, Palpatine loses.

They all stumble into Kit’s Artisan Carpets an hour later, smelling of ozone and repressed emotions just waiting to come out. Kit looks at them all, makes a pot of tea, settles Anakin at his usual carpet-task doing place for some much needed meditation, and locks them in the room to talk.

“So,” Dooku says to Kit the next morning, once they’ve sorted all the politics and some of the emotions out, “what possessed you to take up carpets?”

Kit tilts his head, considering, and answers. “I just felt like it.”

(”Really?” Nahdar asks later. “You’re not going to tell them?”

“Well,” Kit replies, “would they believe me?”

“I guess not,” Nahdar says, “but time travel is hard to believe in.”

“It was more of a vision, really.” Kit huffs. “Besides, I did feel like it. Getting stabbed gives one new priorities.”

“Tell me about it,” Nahdar agrees. “Tell me about it.”)

#this happened because of that one post where a bot took over the kitfisto url to sell carpets #and apparently that concept was an irresistible temptation for me #that likely surprises no one but me #star wars #star wars au #kit fisto: carpet artisan au #willow's aus #kit fisto #star wars fix it au #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #count dooku

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floating-mid-air · 4 years ago

Text

The Princess of All Saiyans

Masterlist

Chapter 10 is finally here. Something I noticed while working on this chapter is when I'm writing as the narrator. I use Goku and Kakarot interchangeably. I looked back into the other chapters and noticed I've been doing that the entire time. I honestly just write whichever name feels natural in the context. I think I'll continue writing like that. I think it's more fun switching up Goku's name every once in a while. As always, if you have any comments or questions, feel free to let me know.

Chapter 10

You and Goku sit on opposite ends of the ditch. The choice to sit as far away from him as possible was strictly for your own sanity. You can feel his scolding gaze on you, burning holes through the entirety of your body, making your skin crawl.

You've been desperately attempting to evade eye contact with the defective Saiyan, which is becoming significantly more strenuous with each second that passes. Goku lets out an exaggerated sigh. "Can we at least sit closer together?"

You turn your head at him, narrowing your eyes. "No, Kakarot."

Goku presses his thumb and index finger together, leaving a tiny hole. He brings the flexed hand up to his eye, looking at you through the minuscule opening. "What about this much closer?"

"No." Your gaze remains locked on him, with a deadpan look on your face.

"But why not?" He wines as you begin to massage your temples. If he keeps this up, the two of you won't survive down here together for much longer. You're ninety-nine percent sure that being stuck with Kakarot will somehow be the greatest adversity of your life. Okay, so maybe you're being just a tad bit overdramatic.

"Because I don't trust myself not to kill you." You snarl at him. Your composure is dangling by a thin thread, and Goku is an extremely sharp pair of scissors.

Your words seem to have shut Goku up, well, at least for a little while. "Hey Y/N?"

You ball your hands into fists, clenching your jaw as your right eye begins to spasm. You're developing an eye twitch. How lovely. "What is it now, Kakarot?"

"How did you do that thing with your eyes?"

You furrow your brows at the younger Saiyan. "What the hell are you talking about?" You're really starting to get fed up with him, and you've only been trapped down here for around fifteen minutes.

"Your eyes turned red when you were fighting that guy." Your eyes widen before you quickly cover up your shock with a scowl. Fuck. You knew you should've kept your temper under control. How could you have been so stupid?

Lucky for you, Kakarot is a moron. He lacks understanding regarding body language and various emotion cues. It shouldn't be difficult for you to get out of this at all. "Your eyes were just playing tricks on you. Your vision was probably strained from traveling for such an extended amount of time. My eyes did not, nor have they ever changed color."

"But, I saw---"

"Well, you saw wrong!" You take several deep breaths, attempting to regain your composure. Spoiler alert, it doesn't work. "I can't take this anymore!" You've finally snapped, but to be fair. You lasted much longer than you expected. "Stop asking me a million questions! No, you know what. Stop speaking to me in general! You are the most infuriating---"

Amidst your screaming, Goku jumps up, pulling you into a far corner of the trench. One of his hands is placed over your lips. And his other arm is tightly wrapped around your waist, his hand ghosting over the base of your tail. Your back is pressed up against the rocky wall, and you feel like his larger body is engulfing your form entirely. You glare at him in irritation as an oddly serious expression crosses Goku's face.

"I'm gonna take my hand away. Be quiet and focus for a minute." He moves his hand, resting it comfortably on your side. It's placed directly on your wound, courtesy of your battle with Burter. You bite your lip, preventing yourself from wincing. Even the smallest amount of pressure is causing you severe pain. Maybe your injury is worse than you presumed.

You shut your eyes partly to distract yourself from the pain, but the main objective is to focus on the energy around you. There's someone out there, and they're powerful too. That has to be Ginyu. Shit, your explosive outburst could have just gotten you both killed. What is wrong with you today?

Where you're standing in the pit. There's still a patch of grass over the top. Providing a shield from anything or anyone from the outside. You hate to admit it, but this was actually a wise decision on Goku's part. Never did you think that Kakarot would be the one to remain collective while you're the one behaving recklessly.

The two of you remain pressed up against each other. Frankly, you're too close for comfort. You can feel every fall and rise of his chest. You can even hear his heartbeat, which is thumping just as rapidly as your own. The sound of Ginyu's faint murmuring invades your ears, though you can't hear anything he says clearly. He must be too far away.

You try to keep your erratic breathing under control, which stems from both pain and nerves. Your surroundings grow quiet, and Ginyu's energy disappears altogether. He must have left. You finally have room to breathe as Goku takes a few steps back, distancing himself from you. His eyes scan your face before quickly darting down to one of his hands. Specifically, the one that's now covered in your blood. His eyes go-round as he moves closer, invading your personal space once again. "Are you hurt?"

His tone lacks his typical cheery nature, causing you to tilt your head upward, your brain desperately attempting to form a contingency plan to get you out of this mess. "I'm fine." Goku makes you uneasy. He's nothing like a Saiyan should be. His behavior is all over the place, and not a single one of his actions adds up in your realm of logic. Out of all the ruthless and sadistic Saiyan's that could've survived, never in a million years did you expect one as pathetic as Kakarot to live.

"But, you're bleeding." This timid side of Goku is somehow worse than his typical cheerful self. You didn't think he could disgust you further, but once again, that defect proves you wrong.

You suppress an eye roll, keeping your piercing gaze locked on him. If you were to look away now, it would appear like you were backing down. And you refuse to let a fool like Kakarot win. "It's not my blood, Kakarot." Hopefully, he'll fall for your lies and drop this pointless conversation here.

"If it's not your blood, then let me see." He moves his hands to your hips, clawing at the bottom of your chest plate.

You grab his wrist, pushing them away. The two of you continue going back and forth, gripping and pushing at each other. It's been a while since someone challenged you like this, one on one. No one back on the Frieza Force would have dared to go against your wishes. Goku's different from them. He's not afraid of you, and it doesn't seem that he'll give up anytime soon. You would've never pegged Kakarot for the stubborn type. Maybe there's still a bit of true Saiyan nature in him, after all. And as infuriating as he is, you can't say you're disappointed. "Knock it off, Kakarot!"

"Stop being such a baby, and let me help you." If you were in a public setting, those passing by might have believed you were a couple. Having one of those sweet but sicking play fights. While in reality, that was far from the truth. This proves just how thin the line between love and hate truly is.

"I don't want your help!" You stop fighting him, crossing your arms over your chest, denying him access to your upper half.

You thought you had outsmarted him, that was until his hands landed on the sides of your top. "Fine. I'll just tear your armor off then."

You stare at him in disbelief. "Do you have no boundaries?" He has to be bluffing, right? No one could be this shameless. However, the look on his face, mixed with his grip on your top tightening, tells you a whole different story. He's serious about this. "Wait---" You place one of your hands on his chest. "If you back off, and shut up. I'll take it off."

He complies with your terms, stepping back, pressing his lips into a thin line. Your hands are violently shaking as you slowly move them to the corners of your chest piece. You've stripped your armor off in front of Raditz, Nappa, and Cado a million times before. So why does this feel so different?

You steadily pull your tunic above your head, slipping your chest piece off your body, leaving you in your nylon blue sports bra. And it really doesn't leave much to the imagination. You turn your head, finally getting to see the wound yourself. It's much deeper than you thought, but due to your Saiyan genetics, it's already healing quite nicely. "Are you pleased? Now, will you finally shut up?"

Feeling self-conscious from his gaze, you cross your arms over your chest again. "No. Why would I be happy about this? It looks, really, bad Y/N." Why does he care about your physical condition? At the end of the day, you're enemies, and your nauseating alliance is only temporary. You just don't understand him. You can't read him either, so you have no clue what he'll do next. And it's driving you mad.

"Wait." He grins. "I brought Senzu Beans with me." A Senzu what now? Those must be those healing beans he gave Krillin and Gohan back on Earth. He searches his pockets, only to come up empty-handed. He grabs his head as a look of realization crosses his features. "I'm so stupid. I left them on the ship."

Well, there's one thing you both agree on, Kakarot does have a moronic nature. "Hey, relax. I'm fine, Kakarot." You wrap your tail around your waist, applying pressure to your wound. "This is all I need to do. I've done this several times before, and look, I'm still standing, aren't I?"

Your assurance doesn't seem to be enough for Goku. "Please--- just let me help you." He's pleading with you. Does he really have no ulterior motives? Does he really just want to help you? You'd typically laugh at someone pleading with you, but when it's from him. It makes you uncharacteristically sad.

Those puppy dog eyes should be illegal. You swear Goku would be able to make you do anything just with that one look. "O-Ok." Did you seriously just agree? How can a simple glance make you so weak? An expression like that would typically make you sick. Maybe the amount of blood you've lost has made you delirious. That's a plausible explanation. You're clearly doing everything under Namek's three suns to evade the possibility that these new strange feelings could be your own mind's fabrication.

He removes the cord holding his gi together, causing the orange fabric to hang loose. You now have a clear view of his torso, revealing the blue undershirt that was once hidden under his gi. He slips the shirt off, ripping the bottom of his shirt into strips. "You know I might not be the smartest guy in the world. But I do know that you have to keep wounds clean to avoid infection." He kneels in front of you, giving himself easier access to your side. You don't mind. Him leaning down to help you would've probably made you even more flustered.

His hand brushes against your tail, causing you to jump. He stares at you in alarm. "Sorry, I forgot that hurts you."

"I-It didn't hurt. I trained myself out of that weakness a long time ago. It's just a sensitive area still." He nods as you uncoil your tail, giving him direct access to your injury. He wraps the strips of cloth around your torso. The fabric is in replacement of a bandage, not bad for a makeshift patch-up at all. You've seen Nappa and Raditz do much worse.

Goku stands back up, tying his gi back together. "See. Good as new." That dopey smile on his face really makes you want to punch him. His facial expression may be causing you mild irritation, and his words had no humor to them, but you can no longer hold back your fit of laughter that is now escaping your lips. "What's so funny?"

"You are."

He pouts, which only makes you laugh more. "I'm not funny."

"Oh, yes you are, Kakarot. Everything about your existence is either. A. amusing or B. irritating." You're about to berate him even further, but you stop yourself. Someone is standing directly above you, and It isn't Ginyu this time. Their power level is far too low. It's not anyone you're currently aligned with either. By now, you know Vegeta's power level by heart, and you were able to memorize the other's energy levels during your previous encounter with them. So it's best to assume that above you is one of Frieza's minions.

You do have a weapon at your disposal. No one knows that Goku is here except for you. And you intend to use that piece of knowledge to your advantage. You grab his wrist, pulling Goku back to the wall, successfully switching positions with him.

You look up, getting a good look at the figure above you. Just your luck, it's Jeice. What's next? Will a scorned, old flame of yours show up in an attempt to win you back? Or will Frieza show up for a tea party?

Sadly, it's too late for you to duck back into the corner. That prick already saw you. You move out into the open, keeping Jeice off Kakarot's scent. A self-satisfied grin appears on Jeice lips as he admires your practically bare torso. "Hello, love. You having fun down there?"

"Oh, it's a real party, Jeice." His gaze makes your skin crawl differently. Kakarot's makes you nervous, but Jeice's makes you want to hurl.

"I have to say, Y/N. I am surprised you'd fall for something so simple-minded."

You turn your head, subtly glaring at Goku. "You're right. That's not like me at all. I must have had a severe lapse in judgment."

"Well, gorgeous. Looks like today's your lucky day. I'll pull you up, but under one condition." You wouldn't accept his aid even if there wasn't a catch. You'd rather spend an eternity in the pit with Kakarot than owe Jeice any favors. "All you have to do is betray Vegeta, re-pledge your allegiance to Lord Frieza, and of course, become my wife."

You scoff, shaking your head. "Ya, no chance in hell I'm doing any of that."

"Oh, come on, Y/N. You'd rather be stuck down there, all alone. Then be with me."

"I wish I was alone right now." You mutter to yourself. Whether this statement was directed at Jeice of Goku is unclear, but it's most likely the latter.

He moves his hand to his scouter. "I didn't quite catch that Y/N. Was that your native tongue? Or were you just whispering?"

"I said I'd rather rot down here! And by the way, the only thing less appealing than death on this shitty planet would be marrying you."

He scowls at you. "I was trying to play nice, but now I see that's not a viable option. So if you insist you'd rather die down there, I won't be the one to stop you. Just know, you lost your only chance of leaving this damn rock alive." He takes off, now in an irritable mood. Maybe you should've played nice and asked him about Vegeta and the others. It probably doesn't matter either way. Who's to say Jeice would've told the truth.

Goku walks over to you, sheepishly handing you your chest piece. You find him much less irritating now. It turns out Kakarot isn't the worst being you could've been trapped with. It could've been much worse. You could be stuck down here with Jeice instead.

The group of four has covered a lot of ground, considering what terrible shape they're in. Recoome really did a number on them, especially Vegeta. He's limping while the others are still able to walk with only mild discomfort. After Vegeta was down for the count, it took Gohan, Krillin, and Raditz all together to finish Recoome off. Raditz is by far in the best shape of the group. Since he jumped in last, getting the KO. The other three would've been executed without the intervention of the largest Saiyan. And lady luck appeared to be on their side because Jeice fled shortly after Recoome fell. A few weeks ago, this group teaming up would've been unimaginable, former allies, enemies, and friends alike, with the lines between each category, quickly blurring together.

The issue with you suppressing your power level is now more prominent than ever. They can't easily locate you, so a search party is sadly the best they can do. Vegeta knew he should've gotten you chipped when he had the chance. He'd be able to locate you anywhere, anytime he wanted. So what if it violated your privacy. If it was up to Vegeta, you'd be one leash by now.

Gohan turns to his uncle. "Do you think Y/N's alright?"

"She's fine. Y/N's incredibly resourceful. If she couldn't surpass him in strength, she'd be able to easily outwit him. Y/N's always done as she's pleased, so it's not surprising if she got a bit carried away." Raditz knows you're alive. He can feel it. A creature as brain-dead as Burter wouldn't be the one to take you out. You'd definitely go out with a bigger bang.

"Stop the chit-chat, and stay focused!" Vegeta snarls at the uncle-nephew duo.

Raditz lowers his voice to a whisper. "Don't mind him. Vegeta's just worried."

"Shut your damn mouth, Raditz! Before I shut it for you, permanently." Raditz's eyes widen in terror as he frantically restarts his search. Pissing off Vegeta right now would not be an intelligent choice.

They explore another good portion of the planet. The only downside is they haven't found any sign of life. The group was about to pause and rest until a strange ship entered their field of vision. Krillin's eyes widen, a grin spreading across his lips. As he reads the words located on the side of the vessel. He begins sprinting toward the machine with Gohan not far behind. "Capsule Corp! We're saved!"

Vegeta and Raditz observe the two in bewilderment. Vegeta never thought that Raditz could ever be the second smartest person in his vicinity. Today is just full of surprises. "Slow down, you neanderthals!" Vegeta shouts. "It could be a trap." The two Saiayn's have obviously seen more of the world. Even a fool like Raditz understands protocol about behavior on a foreign planet.

The pair ignore their Saiyan allies. With Krillin entering the ship first. "Goku?" He shouts.

"Dad?" Gohan enters the ship, only to find no sign of his father. The pair begin searching the aircraft, looking for clues to where Goku's whereabouts may be. The two Saiyan's tread carefully into the ship. Nothing seems dangerous at the moment. And they wouldn't put it past Kakarot to abandon the only source of transportation off this damn planet. Gohan furrows his brows. "Where could he have gone?"

"Do you guys think he could've been captured? Krillin's question was directed toward the Saiyan's. Vegeta and Raditz both know what the Frieza Force can do while he and Gohan are basically fish out of water.

"Relax." Raditz is the one to break the silence. "If Kakarot was captured, we'd all already know."

"There would be signs of a struggle. And extreme damage to the outside terrain. Kakarot left on his own accord, now let's go, we now have two fools to find."

Krillin was about to follow Vegeta's orders until his eyes land on a small bag. "Wait." He grabs the bag from the table. "If this is what I think it is--- it is. Leave it to Goku to forget an entire bag of Senzu beans." He pulls one of the green beans out of the bag, tossing it to Gohan and grabbing another for himself.

He throws the bag at Raditz, who catches it with ease. The Saiyan watches the earthling and half-breed eat them first. Their injuries heal instantly, so it isn't poison. That small fact seems to be enough for Raditz, as he eats one of the beans himself.

After he heals, he hands the bag to Vegeta. "Wait! Raditz!" Krillin shrieks. He's aware that their alliance is quite temporary and will probably end once they successfully disband the Ginyu Force.

Krillin charges at Vegeta, only to be stopped by Raidtz's hand. Which is placed firmly against his forehead, the Saiyan can hold him back with ease. "Stop. You know we can't do this on our own, even with Kakarot's help. Take it from someone who personally knows Frieza and the Ginyu Force. We need him."

Vegeta holds the Senzu bean in his hand, eyeing it skeptically. Before tossing it in his mouth, chewing it slowly. His eyes flash in amazement as his substantial injuries heal instantly. Even though he's seen the bean work wonders before, he still can't believe its capabilities.

"Do you guys think that Goku and Y/N could be together?" Krillin's question makes a lot of sense, and unknowingly to him, very accurate.

Vegeta sighs. "It's a possibility." The idea alone makes Vegeta cringe. Just the possibility of you being alone with Kakarot makes him irritable.

"Well, if they're together, that's a good thing, right?" Gohan's cheerful voice cuts in. "It should be easier to find them, then."

Raditz snickers. "But, will they both be alive? That's the million-dollar question."

Krillin's eyes widen. It wouldn't surprise him if Goku's personality pushed you over the realm of sanity. He sometimes even feels like he's losing his mind when he's with his childhood friend. "Good point. If that's the case, we better step up our game."

The group of four exits the ship, continuing their search. And it doesn't take long for them to discover something else that stops them in their tracks. They located Burter's corpse, more specifically a headless Burter. Decapitation seems to be your go-to method of execution today. It's good to mix things up once in a while.

"Well, it looks like we know what happened here." You jump up in the pit. You'd recognize that voice anywhere. As always, your big brother, Vegeta, comes to your rescue.

"Vegeta! Get me the hell out of here!" Vegeta furrows his brows, desperately looking in all directions. He flys up to get a birds-eye view of the landscape. A higher altitude should be beneficial in tracking you down.

As soon as you hear Vegeta's obnoxious laughter, you know he's found you. He lands on the side of the dip in the ground. "Looks like you're in quite the predicament there, baby sister!" You've never been happier to see that arrogant smirk before in your life.

"Vegeta, come on, get me out of here! I can't take another second of this torture."

"I don't know." Vegeta rubs his chin. "You did leave me alone, with those three idiots. Maybe I should leave you down there with Kakarot so you can learn a lesson."

"Come on, Vegeta. You know we don't have time for this." Raditz places a large branch in the pit. You should easily be able to climb up it. The barrier is only activated for those inside the hole. So it should cause a rift when something is poking out of it.

You place your hands on the wood as you start shimming upwards. You wince in pain, stumbling a bit. Your injury must be affecting you more than you thought. Goku quickly grabs you, placing his hands on your hips holding you in place.

"D- Don't touch me!"

Goku sighs. Your hot and cold behavior is really confusing to him. "I was just trying to help you. You were gonna fall."

"As we discussed before. I don't want your help." You pull yourself up the rest of the way up, rushing to Raditz. You wrap your arms around the giant, desperately clinging to him. "I take back every bad thing I've ever said about you."

Raditz furrows his brows, looking over your head at his brother, who had just climbed back to the surface. "God, Kakarot. What did you do to her?"

"Relax, you drama queen. You were only down there for about an hour or so." Vegeta pulls you off Raditz as your hand quickly lands over the sight of your wound. There's no need to worry Vegeta about this. It's just a minor scratch, that's all. He scans his eyes over your from, checking for any irregularities. "No injuries. All your limbs are intact. I'm surprised."

"Well, actually---" You slap Goku's leg with your tail, causing him to yelp out in pain.

"Yep, I'm all good." You plaster an ingenuine smile on your face.

Gohan, Krillin, and Goku all have a little reunion. The rest of you will not take any part in that conversation. Kakarot's arrival isn't something to celebrate. He won't be your saving grace. "So, what's our next move?" Raditz turns to Vegeta. It's almost like nothing has changed. Like you've stepped into a time machine and went back to a much simpler time. Back when things were much less complicated.

"We go find Ginyu and Jeice too." Vegeta turns to you. "That red menace got away."

"I know. Jeice paid Kakarot and me a visit. Putting it simply, he's not gonna be in very high spirits."

Raditz chuckles. "Well, getting turned down so many times can't be good for his ego. Especially by the ice princess."

"She's far from an ice princess. Saiyan-wise, my sister is actually quite friendly. Out of our entire bloodline, I'd say she has the best people skills. She knows how to work a crowd. That's why our father wanted to put her in charge of foreign affairs."

"Was that a compliment, Vegeta?"

"I wouldn't dare." He pauses, turning to the other three. "Alright, let's get this over with. I don't want to spend any more time with you fools than necessary."

The group is finally reunited. But what does Captain Ginyu have in store for our heroes? And will Jeice ever get Y/N's attention? Find out in the next chapter of The Princess of All Saiyans..

#goku x reader #goku #son goku x reader #dbz x reader #dbz fanfiction #dragon ball x reader #female insert #vegeta #vegeta's sister #the princess of all saiyans #dragon ball z kai #dragon ball fanfiction #saiyan reader

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buckybarnesthehotshot · 4 years ago

Text

I Like You (Alexandra Trese x Diwata!Reader)

gif not mine |main masterlist|

summary: In the middle of a case, confessions arise

word count: 2046

warnings: mentions of illness, filipino traffic, i don’t proofread stuff

a/n: i’m only now writing again haha puta nakakagago yung writer’s block

Team Trese was at it again with maintaining the balance between the Underworld and the world of humans. It wasn’t too difficult of a job to keep up with when your team—some would use that term loosely—consisted of Alexandra Trese, Hank Sparrow, The Kambal, and y/n. She was one of the newer recruits to the team.

To outsiders, y/n was an enigma; she was a Diwata and yet nothing about her behavior would even suggest that she was one. The way she would often act was unbecoming of one’s expectations for a Diwata. There was no way one could instantly come to the conclusion that she was one especially with the glamour she wore to disguise her own appearance.

Diwatas existed to preserve nature; one would expect them to keep a calm-headed demeanor, glimmering with an aura of positivity and radiance, all coming from the beauty of the environment that they shroud themselves in. If a monarchy were to take place in the Underworld, the Diwatas would be the epitome of regality, carrying themselves with grace and compassion.

But y/n? She was a different story. At first glance, one may believe her to be a “corrupted” Diwata as she didn’t seem to uphold the same values her sisters did. Alexandra, though, held different impressions and thoughts on the h/c-haired deity.

To Alexandra, the “darker” side to y/n wasn’t an irreversible defect coming from when she came to be. Alexandra knew there was so much more to the girl besides her impartiality to the way other Diwatas lived their lives and how she chose to live hers differently, hiding herself amongst the humans. There was so much more to her than meets the eye.

Alexandra was sure y/n was a product to the environment she was born into. As one of the younger—well, if you could call nearly a century on the planet young—Diwatas, she didn’t get to experience nature at its peak, not the way the elders did, at least. She was not birthed to the beautiful colors of nature, nor the peace nature could provide one with.

No. Alexandra understood that the girl was born to the destruction of what it was she was meant to be protecting. She didn’t get the opportunity to witness what it was she had to protect. She didn’t get to see the place she was meant to call home as the forest she was supposed to inhabit had been turned into a city before she could understand how to use her abilities.

If anything, the human world poisoned y/n’s outlook on what it meant to be a Diwata. All the pointless destruction brought her both anguish and confusion. However, birthed from that confusion was y/n’s innocent need to help nature become one with the city life. Her goal was to at least bring small bits and pieces of what the world used to be into the city.

“What’s the next case for today, Bossing?” Crispin questioned as soon as Alexandra set her phone down next to her in her seat.

“There have been reports of illness among a group of Lumberjacks in the province. Some people are convinced it has something to do with supernatural beings who may have inhabited the forest. I was hoping y/n would know something about it,” Alexandra explained, sending y/n an eager glace, as though to ask what could have caused the fatigue to spread amongst the lumberjacks.

“Well, they’re lumberjacks, there are plenty of beings they could’ve pissed off,” y/n explained, earning a nod from both Crispin and Basilio, “I mean, there are plenty of creatures who live up in trees. It’s either that or the trees were in another creature’s domain. Either way, all this may have something to do with the chopping of trees.”

“Could a Diwata have done this?” Hank questioned, earning a small glare from Alexandra before he backed up his statement to defend himself, “It’s just that the Encantados and Encantadas have been known for their power. y/n over here’s pretty powerful too, so we may never know if a Diwata could be responsible for this too or not.”

“Hank’s right, but if there’s a Diwata taking domain over that land, I would have known already. Diwatas are mostly peaceful beings, and if there’s one of us out there riddling the human world with disease, there would have been some talk of it amongst the other Diwatas,” y/n explained, a small smirk making its way to her face as she added, “The older generation of Diwatas; they can be such gossips at times.”

“So, it’s not a Diwata? Could it be a nuno or duwende living in the tree when it was cut down? Maybe they’re the ones spreading disease in the form of a curse,” Basilio suggested, earning a small nod of encouragement from his twin brother.

“Well, the only way to know is to actually go to where the lumberjacks were working and investigate,” Alexandra stated firmly, before everybody else returned to whatever it was they’d been doing in the car; Hank driving, the Twins conversing over whatever topics it was that came to mind for them, y/n looking through social media in an attempt to keep up with everything happening in the human world, and Alexandra already thinking of possible solutions to whatever the problems they might have ended up encountering.

The ride to the province took longer than expected. Despite the fact that they all left the house pretty early, it was already well into the afternoon—Philippine traffic was a pain in the ass when it came to travelling to the province from the city—when they finally parked the car in front of one of the houses in the Barangay.

“This is the house of Danilo Corpuz, he’s one of the lumberjacks who fell ill after a day from work,” Alexandra explained, earning a nod from everybody else as they all got out the car and into the house.

Alexandra made quick work of questioning the man, asking him about what he’d been doing, where they were cutting down trees, and if there’d been any signs of anything supernatural going on.

“There were burnt up cigars and emptied out bottles of Red Horse at the trunks of the trees,” the man explained to them, as everyone present came to the realization of what it was they were all going to be facing.

“How are we supposed to deal with the Kapres? They’ve been known to be vengeful and difficult to talk down whenever their trees are chopped,” Basilio huffed as the others slowly nodded in agreement. The Kapres were stubborn; there was no way to talk them out of seeking revenge however it was they saw fit considering it was the humans who’d made the first “attack” on their homes.

“Trust me, I’ll find a way through it. Now, come on, let’s go. We don’t have time to waste, there could be lethal effects of the illness—or curse—if we don’t hurry,” Alexandra ushered them all back into the car. She sat at the front seat, studying the conditions of the treaty to see whether or not the Kapres laying their curses on the humans was against it and what punishments she could serve them.

y/n smiled to herself, witnessing the determination on Alexandra’s face. She watched silently as the woman began to look through the items she kept in her coat for something that could be useful for them.

“Hank, can we stop at a sari-sari store first?” y/n questioned, watching Hank’s eyebrow arch from the rearview mirror as though to question her on what could be so important for her to buy that it would delay the trip to the woods, “I need to buy a few bottles of Red Horse and some Marlboro. I figured it would help get the Kapres to loosen up and talk to us.”

“That’s a great idea, Ate y/n!” Crispin exclaimed, high-fiving y/n upon hearing her suggestion, “Besides, I’m getting tired of all the fighting and having to regenerate.”

“Does it consume your energy whenever you have to regenerate?” y/n questioned, raising a brow at the twins as Crispin chuckled.

“No,” the twins chimed in unanimously. y/n found herself chuckling at their remark before getting off the car to where Hank stopped. Alexandra watched intently as the enchanting woman spoke with the tindera at the store before walking back in the car, plastic bag filled with vices swinging in her hand.

Turns out, the woods where the lumberjacks had been working wasn’t too far from Danilo’s home. From the sari-sarii store, the trip there must have lasted them ten minutes. Everyone hopped out the car and ventured into the shadowy woods, knowing damn well what they were about to encounter.

“I know you’re here,” Alexandra called out to the thick branches of the tallest trees in the forest. It was silent for a moment until the leaves on the branches began shuffling until at least four kapres made their presence known, no longer cloaking themselves with invisibility.

“Little Trese, what’s this visit about?” one of the Kapres questioned, his dark eyes beaming into Alexandra’s. It was clear they weren’t exactly welcome there. Still, y/n wanted to try her best to avoid confrontation, so she slowly made her way towards the Kapre’s tree, then motioning for him to come down.

As a Diwata, she and the other creatures of the forest naturally held mutual understandings between each other; after all, to some degree their interests and beliefs intersected where it mattered the most—preserving their homes. Hesitantly, the Kapre made his way off the tree as the team could only watch the interaction unfold.

“You know what I am, don’t you?” y/n questioned slowly, tucking her hair between her pointed ears, giving a small smile as she dropped her glamour to reveal her true divine form, the Kapre nodded as y/n continued, “Right, well, these are my friends. Alexandra wishes to have a word with you and you will hear her out. In return, you get this.”

The Kapre eyed the contents of the bag before nodding, taking the bag from y/n’s grasp and motioning for the others to get off the tree. y/n watched intently as the Tribe communicated with Alexandra, voicing their reasons, and listening as Alexandra tried her best to come up with a compromise to make sure no humans would get hurt and the Kapres would not be bothered.

In the end, everyone agreed that the Kapres should be moved somewhere less open, somewhere where humans wouldn’t dare venture in pursuit for just lumber. They made a deal where y/n would guide them to safety while they take back whatever curse or disease they put on the human men.

To y/n, watching Alexandra negotiate with the Kapres was almost like watching an artist create art; it was a satisfying process to watch from beginning to end. y/n had been so mesmerized that she forgot to put her façade back up when the negotiation ended. For a brief moment, Alexandra’s eyes met hers before y/n tore hers away quickly, already leading the Kapres deeper into the forest somewhere she knew would be safer for them.

Alexandra began to quicken her pace, rushing over to y/n’s side.

“What?”

“What do you mean what?” y/n’s brows furrowed at Alexandra’s question.

“What was that look about? The one you sent me when I was talking with the Kapres,” Alexandra questioned again, brows furrowed with confusion before y/n’s eyes widened, before the Diwata let out a chuckle.

“Nothing, I just like you,” y/n shrugged as Alexandra found herself staring at the Diwata in disbelief.

“You like me?”

“Yeah? Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because you never talk about anything to anyone,” Crispin cut in, only to get a flick to the ear from Hank, telling him not to interrupt the pair’s conversation.

“Right. That. Believe it or not, I admire you a lot, Alexadra. I find it admirable how you’re doing so much for both the human world and the underworld,” y/n, for what seemed like the first time to most, let out a soft smile in Alexandra’s direction, “Now, come on, we have a Kapre tribe to relocate!”

TRESE TAGLIST: @thatmultifandomloser / @sitherin-mxschief / @thegodswereneveronourside

#trese netflix #alexandra trese #trese #trese x you #trese x reader #trese x y/n #alexandra trese x you #alexandra trese x reader #alexandra trese fanfic #alexandra trese x y/n

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wonderswritings · 4 years ago

Text

Fighting For... Acceptable Loses

Summary: We survived. Though we’re no longer together, separated by space, we survived the end of the human race. There were losses, but in the end, we survived. Six years is a long time. We’re no longer the same, hardened by our time in the unforgiving ground. We’ve managed to survive everything thrown at us so far, but this time, this time, this might be what breaks us. And we might not be able to come back from it.

Warnings: The 100 Themes so blood and gore I guess

Pairings: Bellamy Blake x Reader, Clarke Griffin x Twin!Fem!Reader, Bellamy Blake x Echo

Fighting For… Masterlist

S5 Masterlist

Previous // Next

Tags are Open!

Previously:

“Octavia told me and Bellamy that my banishment would be lifted if I turned in the names of those who wanted to defect. I can’t do that. Those who want to defect are scared. I can see it in their faces.”

“The things that happened in the bunker, they were bad. A lot of us can’t talk about it. Talking about it would make it real.”

“Dokwokru are already lined up along the edge of Polis, facing the treeline. They have orders to shoot anyone who tries to interfere with the defectors leaving.”

“They were planning on defecting.” “What? Why?” “Because of Octavia. I heard about what she did. Delani warned me that Wonkru couldn’t be trusted with children, now I know why he told me.”

“He didn’t want what happened to me to happen to you.”

“I would’ve protect you. You and Madi both.” “I couldn’t take that chance.”

“Now we bind ourselves in one blood. You are Wonkru.”

“The last time a child was under your protection you killed them! You took your sword and you stabbed my daughter in the chest! She was dead before I even got there! If you think I’m going to let you do the same thing to Clarke and to Madi, think again.”

“Clarke didn’t give me a transfusion. I’m a nightblood, a real nightblood.”

“You’ve changed. And I- I didn’t recognize you. But I’m starting too. I understand why you’re Nyxlana. If anything were to happen to Madi- if anything happened to her, I would be beside myself with rage. And I know, that you would be by my side. I didn’t understand that before. But now I do.”

“You are my sister. I’m sorry I lost sight of that.”

“Well? Any word?”

Harper shot Bellamy a look, glancing over at Octavia.

“Look, we knew it would take some time. We can count on Echo.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time she betrayed us.”

Indra took a deep breath, turning towards Octavia.

“If your brother trusts her, maybe we should too.”

“You’re still upset we shot the traitors. I get how that must look to you, but we’re fighting for our lives here, Bellamy. The hydrofarm is on it’s last legs. Truth is, it’s a miracle you showed up when you did. I haven’t thanked you enough for that. If we can just get to Shallow Valley, things will be better, I promise.”

Bellamy scoffed, glaring at Octavia.

“Funny, that's the same thing we said about getting back down to the ground. Then we found you.”

Octavia clenched her jaw, turning and walking out of the tent, her guards and Indra following after her. Harper breathed a sigh of relief, turning towards Bellamy.

“Your sister officially scares me.”

Bellamy nodded slightly, glancing at her.

“She scares a lot of people. But not YN.”

“She;s a little scary too.”

“Maybe, but I still recognize her. I look at her and I still see YN.”

He huffed, shaking his head.

“I looked at Octavia and I don’t recognize her.”

“You love her.”

Bellamy made a face as Harper sat down, causing her to sigh.

“YN. You love her.”

“I love Echo.”

Harper nodded slightly, taking a deep breath.

“Is that why you still wear the necklace Monty made you?”

Bellamy huffed, clenching his jaw as he turned back towards the monitors.

“Show me.”

Bellamy and Clarke led Indra to the room, watching as Indra entered the code. Clarke walked past them, unzipping the biocontainment lab, pulling the sheets back from the tanks. Indra’s eyes widened before she shook her head, as Bellamy looked down at the tank.

“Delani. YN- she’s been looking everywhere for him.”

Indra clenched her jaw, sighing.

“Delani was her family. He was one of the original six.”

Bellamy made a face, tilting his head to the side.

“Original six?”

“YN left the bunker, trying to get to you. A group volunteered to find her and bring her back. Him, Rex, Maria and three others left. They brought her back, alive. And they protected her until the day they died. He was her family.”

She walked over to the tank, sliding her arms into the gloves attached to the tank, clamping her hand over his mouth and nose. He fights for a minute before he stopped breathing, Indra whispering.

“Yu gonplei ste odon, Delani kom Sankru.” (your fight is over, Delani from desert clan)

They all turned when the keypad at the door beeps, Indra turning, preparing to fight.

“Let’s get this over with.”

The door swung open, Kara and Octavia walking in, their eyes widening slightly before Indra shook her head.

“You knew about this.”

“Of course I knew about this, it was my idea. We’re up against an army with superior firepower and every geographic advantage. This is how we overcome that.”

“What happens when your secret weapon destroys the valley you're fighting for?”

“I ran some tests. The worms can’t survive in a green environment for more than a few days, long enough to kill everyone they come in contact with before we get there.”

Bellamy scoffed, shaking his head.

“Are we really having this conversation? Our friends are there, people we love.”

“Acceptable losses. Copper, check on the worms.”

Kara walked past them as Octavia scoffed, glaring.

“Come on big brother. How many innocent lives have you sacrificed? What about you, Wanheda? What about Nyxlana? This is no different. You were just trying to save your people, so am I.”

“You killed him.”

“No, you did.”

Indra turned towards Octavia, shaking her head.

“What happens when YN finds out you killed Delani?”

Octavia shrugged, tilting her head to the side.

“I killed Maria, her almost lover and she let me go. I killed her daughter and she let me go. I put her in the pits, twice and she let me go. She won’t do anything.”

She turned, looking over at Bellamy.

“Because she still cares for you. Cooper?”

“One of the defectors survived.”

Octavia made a face, causing Bellamy to huff.

“Looks like we found something that’s not acceptable.”

“Blodreina, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but the results were remarkable. The worms produced three times faster in a live body, and we need quantity as well as control. I found that-”

Clarke shook her head, pleading.

“Octavia, you don’t want to do this.”

“Spare me your hypocrisy Clarke. Miller told me about the man that you irradiated in Becca’s lab.”

Clarke clenched her jaw as Octavia turned back towards Kara, nodding.

“And just how long did your test subject survive?”

“Long enough for a defector to board their ship and fly to the valley.”

Bellamy stepped forward, pleading as he shook his head.

“Octavia, please, don't do this.”

“I don't want anything to happen to your friends, Bellamy, not even Echo. Please believe that, but this is war. Once we control the eye in the sky, we send the worms.”

Octavia turned towards Kara, nodding.

“Cooper, choose one of the elite guards to deliver it. It's time for Wonkru to go home.”

Octavia turned, walking out of the room. Cooper and Indra walked out next, Clarke and Bellamy sharing a look.

“We need to tell Monty and Harper.”

“YN needs to know.”

Bellamy nodded, looking down at Delani.

“I’ll tell her.”

“Are you sure?”

Bellamy nodded, looking over at Clarke.

“I’m sure. At least if she punches me, I’ll survive. You might not survive a punch from your sister.”

Clarke scoffed as they walked out of the room, shaking her head.

“Come on, seriously?”

“I watched her slam an axe into a cement wall. Your sister is strong.”

“She had to be. She’s been fighting since she was born. I just want my sister to be happy. She’s been rolling with the punches. I just thought, she’d be at peace, like she was when she was with you.”

Bellamy stopped walking as Clarke walked off, turning down the hall that would lead her to the entrance of the bunker. Bellamy shook his head, turning the opposite way, walking down the hall. The closer he got, the more people there were, each of them armed. He turned down the hall where he had found YN after the fight, glaring at the guards who stopped him from going any further.

“I need to talk to YN.”

The guards shook their heads, not bothering to move from their spots.

“Nyxlana isn’t to be disturbed.”

“It’s important, it can’t wait. Please.”

“No.”

Bellamy clenched his jaw, turning on his heel. He saw the guards move back to their spots against the wall before he turned, running past them. He groaned as he was tackled to the ground, huffing as he tried to push them off him.

“What is going on out here?”

Bellamy turned his head to the side, looking up at YN.

“YN.”

Her eyes widened slightly as she shook her head, turning back into the room.

“Let him in!”

Bellamy huffed as the weight on his back was lifted, pushing himself up onto his knees when a hand appeared in his line of vision. He looked up, seeing the guard who stopped him standing in front of him. Bellamy placed his hand in his, letting him pull him.

“We’re sorry. But Nyxlana is our priority. We’ll protect her from anything and anyone.”

Bellamy nodded, turning towards the room.

“Good to know.”

“She’s breeding them?”

“Yes. One of the defectors survived, they’re already in the valley. She plans on delivering the rest.”

Bellamy took a deep breath, glancing at YN.

“There’s something else.”

She made a face, tilting her head to the side.

“What is it?”

“Delani.”

Her face hardened as she clenched her jaw, glaring slightly.

“Where is he?”

Bellamy’s face fell, slightly shaking his head.

“YN-”

She stood up, walking towards him.

“You know where he is, or else you wouldn’t mention him.”

She stopped in front of him, glaring up at him.

“Where is he?”

“It’s- it’s not good.”

“Show me.”

Bellamy led the way down the hall, YN following behind him, four guards following behind her. Bellamy came to a stop outside the room, looking over at YN.

“I- uh, there’s a code to get in.”

YN walked past him, looking down at the keypad before she entered a code, the door beeping. She looked over at her guards, slightly shaking her head.

“Stay here.”

Bellamy stepped forward, shaking his head.

“YN-”

She turned towards him, clenching her jaw.

“Stay here.”

I walked into the room, looking around as I walked towards the tanks. Tears formed in my eyes as I looked down at the tank, shaking my head.

“Oh Delani.”

I placed my hand on the top of the tank, tears falling down my face.

“I’m sorry. I- I’m so sorry.”

Bellamy made a face as Clarke grabbed the radio, watching as she brought it up.

“This is Clarke Griffin. I have a question for Colonel Diyoza.”

“Hello Clarke. It’s been too long. What the hell do you want?”

“What would it take for you to share the valley?”

“Share it? Well, let me see. Short of an unconditional surrender from Blodreina, nothing.”

Monty shook his head, sighing.

“Octavia will never surrender.”

Clarke clenched her jaw, slightly shaking her head.

“That’s why we’re gonna take her out.”

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#fighting for...#bellamy blake x reader #clarke griffin x sister!reader #the 100 x reader #bellamy x reader #clarke x reader

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