#or am I gonna have to resolve to using the memory gun?

[iceb4gw-c]

Hey dudes..I'm back. I've just got a HUGE headache man.

Anyways good to be be back dudes! Hope I didn't miss out on anything lol

[ginwalt]

uhh could I request a wanda x reader doing something really reckless (like stealing the car for a 3 am drive) and Carol and Nat (who are like their mother figures - and also are in a relationship) scolding them for it!!

ps: I don't know if scolding is even a word but I guess you know what I mean hahahah

a/n: I am absolutely in love with this prompt and I had a lot of fun writing it :) hope you enjoy!

Warnings: none just some cursing and some underage drinking.

Word Count: 2,680

--

It was around 3:30 in the morning when you felt someone nudge your shoulder. Groaning, you pulled your blanket further over your head.

"Leave me alone," you grumbled under your breath.

It was only when a strand of red magic surrounded the edge of the blanket and jerked it off your body, did you awaken. You gasped at the sudden assault of cold air and shot up. Wanda stood over you in a Black Sabbath hoodie and ripped jeans with a far too pleased smirk on her face.

"What the hell, Wanda?" You hissed, rubbing your bleary eyes.

"Put some clothes on; I want to show you something."

"The sun isn't rising for another 2 hours, Wan. I want to go back to bed," you complained, grasping for the blanket once more.

Wanda pulled the blanket fully off your shared bed and looked at you pleadingly, "Come on, please? I promise it will be worth it," her eyes were wide as she looked at you hopefully. At this time of night- or morning, you supposed - her accent was thicker than it would be during the day. You cursed your weak resolve and slunk out of bed.

"Fine, but I'm stealing one of your hoodies," you grumbled.

She chuckled, "You are already hoarding at least half of them," she pointed out as you stepped out of your pajama pants. You rolled your eyes playfully and pulled on black yoga pants and an Iron Maiden sweatshirt you had been keeping on your side of the closet for at least a month now. Wanda gasped and slapped your arm lightly, "I have been looking for that everywhere, Y/n. I thought I lost it!"

"Your hoodies are comfier," you reasoned with a shrug. "Anyways, how are we supposed to get past mother hen one and two?" You gestured towards the direction of Natasha and Carol's room.

Wanda pondered this for a moment, "Just be fast and quiet, you go out and wait in the car, and I will grab the drinks."

You raised an eyebrow, "Natasha's a world-class assassin, and Carol wakes up whenever Nat does; this won't work. Also, we're going to drink at 3 in the morning?"

Wanda huffed, "It will be fine. You worry too much, Y/n. Plus, when have we ever drank irresponsibly?"

Narrowing your eyes, you stuffed your hands in your pockets, "Do you really want me to answer that."

Wanda pushed you towards the door, "Go outside and wait in the car." You snickered and carefully opened the bedroom door, wincing when the hinges squealed slightly. It wasn't a matter of not being caught as much as it was a matter of being long gone before Natasha and Carol decided to go after them. Regardless of how sneaky they thought they were being, Natasha- if not both her and Carol - was bound to hear them. Ever so carefully, you wedged the front door open and slipped through it.

You had moved in with Carol, Nat, and Wanda a year into your relationship with her. Having graduated college with a nearly nonexistent relationship with your parents, you needed a place to live. Your girlfriend and the women who practically made sure you didn't starve throughout college seemed like the most reasonable choice. You had met Wanda on campus, and it had taken three weeks of being her friend until you realized she was an Avenger. Shortly after that, Wanda introduced you to the rest of her team. At first, your only interaction with the married couple was them giving you the "shovel talk" when Wanda first introduced you as her girlfriend. However, after working with them as a hacker for SHIELD, they quickly took you under their wing as well.

Smiling slightly at the memory, you opened the passenger door to Natasha's black Corvette Stingray. It took all of three minutes for Wanda to come running out the door, a bottle of apple cinnamon whiskey in hand. She threw the door open and shoved the bottle into your hand before pushing the key into the ignition and gunning it down the street. Your eyes bugged as your fumbled to get your seatbelt fastened. You clutched at your chest as the two of you went 45 in a neighborhood.

"Wanda, what the fuck!" you yelped, gripping the neck of the whiskey bottle tightly.

"I'm sorry, I heard their door open, and I panicked!" She cried, grasping blindly for her seatbelt. The two of you slowed down slightly as you gained distance from the house.

"They're totally going to notice the whiskey's gone, Wan. We're both 19; we can't legally drink yet!"

"Relax, Y/n they won't notice one drink is missing out of a whole cabinet filled with alcohol," Wanda reasoned, turning onto a gravel road.

You raised an eyebrow at your girlfriend, "How many times do I have to point out that Nat is the world's top assassin and Carol was trained by both the US military and the Kree?"

"I promise it will be worth it," Wanda insisted, grabbing your hand from across the middle console. You sighed and leaned down to kiss the top of her hand.

"You're lucky I love you."

Wanda grinned and shot a wink at you, "I know." With that, she pulled off the dirt road and into the middle of a grassy clearing. You unbuckled your seatbelt and reached down to grab the whiskey, which had rolled under the seat during your escape out of the neighborhood. Wanda stepped out of the car and went around the back to grab a large black and red checkered blanket. You followed her as she smoothed out the blanket atop the grass and pointed up at the sky. A small gasp escaped your lips as you saw streaks of light blaze across the sky.

"I didn't know there was going to be a meteor shower tonight," you whispered, eyes never leaving the sky. Wanda grinned and unscrewed the bottle. She took a hearty drink from it and passed it over to you.

"I was hoping to surprise you," she explained, laying down on the blanket.

You followed suit and took a large drink of your own. "Why did we need alcohol for this, exactly?"

The corner of Wanda's lips quirked upward as she turned her head to look at you. "Make it a bit more...colorful, I suppose. I considered whether edibles would be better, but Nat and Carol would definitely skin us alive when they found out about that."

You giggled; the apple cinnamon whiskey had settled in your stomach, warming your body against the early morning breeze. Your head felt fuzzier as you leaned over to place a kiss on Wanda's cheek. "This is perfect, Wan. Thank you." Wanda placed a cinnamon-flavored kiss on the corner of your mouth. "How much do you want to bet Wanda and Carol are waiting by the door for us right now?"

Your girlfriend let out a drunken laugh and set the now half-empty bottle aside. "10 dollars that they left the house to find us."

"You're on." The two of you dissolved into hysterical giggles that lasted so long your stomach started to cramp. The blazes of white-hot light lit up the sky as your vision turned blissfully hazy. Clumsily, you crawled towards Wanda and placed your head atop her stomach. "Mmm, you're warm," you hummed, a goofy smile cracking through your lips. The witch placed her hands against the side of your head and started stroking them through the locks of your hair.

Just as your eyes started to slip shut at the attention, your felt her hands halt. "Y/n?" You let out a quiet 'mhm' in response. "How're we gonna get home?" Her voice was slurred and thick with her Sokovian accent.

Your eyes snapped open, and you shot up. "Shit, we can walk, maybe?" Wanda gave you a blank look in response as she gestured to the expanse of nothingness around you. You sighed, "We have to call Carol and Nat."

Wanda groaned and covered her face with her hands. Her chipped black nails scrubbed at her eyes and cheeks, leaving red lines all over her face. "Do we have to?"

"Well, we can't drive Wanda, and by the time we're sober enough, it'll be nearly 7:30!"

"They're going to kill us," she complained, burying her face in her hoodie. "Just get it over with."

You fished your phone from your pant pocket and hesitantly pressed Natasha's contact. The phone barely got through with its first ring before the older woman picked up.

"Where the hell did you two go?" her raspy voice was nearly brimming with anger. You almost dropped your phone at the venom lacing her words.

" 'M sorry, 'Tasha," you winced at the heavy slur in your words before continuing. "We thought it'd be fun."

You heard someone grab the phone, "Are you two drunk?" Carol demanded.

"No..." you trailed off pathetically. Wanda glared at you and lightly kicked your foot.

"Y/n try to say Natasha's full name, right now," you straightened slightly at Carol's military voice.

"N'tasha 'Manoff," your tongue felt too big for your mouth as you attempted to form the words. "...Okay, maybe a little bit."

"Where are you? We're coming to get you," Nat insisted. You heard footsteps from the other end of the line and someone pulling the hallway closet open.

"Wan, where are we?" you asked, glancing around the fields of overgrown grass and wheat.

Wanda winced and bit the tip of her finger, "Uhhh.."

"You don't know?" Natasha and Carol shouted. Wanda pursed her lips and looked down at her lap.

"I didn't have a specific route planned out beforehand," she admitted.

"Turn the location tracker in your phone settings on," Natasha ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," you both grumbled in unison, feeling akin to a scolded child.

"When we get there, you two better hope you have a better excuse than the ones we heard over the phone," Carol warned.

"You took my Corvette?" Natasha complained.

"It was either that or Carol's truck, and Wanda isn't used to driving stick yet," you insisted. "Her car's still in the shop from last month." A speeding car had rear-ended Wanda's car on the highway.

We will talk about this when we get there, do not touch the Corvette any more than you already have," with that, Natasha hung up.

"Well, apple cinnamon whiskey isn't a terrible last meal," you reasoned as Wanda folded the blanket and set it in the backseat.

"Y/n, we haven't eaten since dinner time. Whiskey is hardly a meal," Wanda grumbled, shutting the door.

"Babe, I'm trying to be optimistic."

"Captain Marvel and Black Widow are on their way to kick our asses into the moon," Wanda replied, leaning back against the Corvette. You sighed and rested your head against her shoulder. "Sorry this night was a bust," she mumbled, eyes staring down at her boots dejectedly.

You smiled and leaned in to press your lips against hers. Wrapping an arm around her waist, you pulled away and rested your forehead against hers. "This is one of the most romantic things anyone has ever done for me, Wanda. Thank you." Wanda grinned sheepishly and buried her face in your shoulder.

A few dreadful minutes later, you saw the headlights of Carol's truck speed down the gravel road. The truck lurched to a stop as the two superheroes jumped out of the car.

"Are you two alright?" Natasha demanded, half-running to the two of you.

"We're fine, I can protect myself, and Y/n was with me the whole time," Wanda reasoned. "We went out to watch a meteor shower, not go clubbing.

"I can protect myself just fine," you whined.

Carol raised an eyebrow, "Your hands were built for hacking and reading, not punching." You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. Wanda offered you a sympathetic smile but did not say anything to counter the older woman's claim. Rude.

"Wanda, get in the Corvette, Y/n get your ass in the truck," Natasha ordered. She was wearing a black leather jacket over her red silk pajama set. Carol was in basketball shorts and a tank top with a brown leather bomber jacket pulled over it. You quickly shuffled over to the truck and slid in.

Your foot nervously tapped against the floor of the car as you watched Carol grab the nearly empty bottle of whiskey and made her way over to the truck. Shutting the door, she set the bottle of whiskey on the open seat between you two and turned the keys in the ignition. As the pickup truck rumbled to life, she turned to face you. "Kid, you two nearly downed that bottle in a single night. What were you thinking?" You burrowed further into Wanda's sweatshirt as if to protect from her stern gaze.

"You're really mad at us, huh?" you mumbled, fidgeting with your hands.

Carol sighed and followed behind Natasha down the road, "You scared the shit out of us, kid. We didn't know where you had gone, why you left, plus it's nearly pitch black out here."

"But, we're adults just like you and Nat," you insisted weakly.

"You're still teenagers; we're in our 30's. Millions of things could have gone wrong; some creep could have taken you before Wanda could get to you, you could have crashed had you chosen to drive home, your phones could have died, or you could have gotten lost."

You shrunk further into your sweater, "Sorry..."

Carol sighed and looked over at you as she turned into the neighborhood. "Listen, kid. We really care about you two a lot. Nat and I have to resist the urge to duct tape you to the kitchen chairs to keep you two from leaving for missions. We know you can take care of yourselves, but a heads up in the future would be nice, and also more reasonable hours for your plans."

You grinned sheepishly, "Yeah, that seems fair."

Carol smiled and pulled into the driveway. Natasha and Wanda were waiting on the doorstep when you two got out. The latter looked thoroughly chastised as she burrowed her mouth and nose into her hoodie. When the four of you got inside, Natasha sighed and checked the clock on her phone.

"Well, we might as well watch a movie or something since it's nearly sunrise." You and Wanda settled on the couch, with Natasha to your left and Carol to Wanda's right acting as bookends. The assassin wrapped an arm around your shoulder, allowing you to rest your head in the crook of her neck. You saw Wanda lay her head in Carol's lap as the older woman pulled up Netflix. Natasha was idly threading her fingers through your hair, causing your already drunk and lethargic mind to grow hazier. Your eyes started to slip shut as you felt yourself being guided to lay your head in Nat's lap. You jerked slightly, attempting to fight the drowsiness from taking hold. Forcing your eyes open, you tried to sit up. However, the battle for consciousness was quickly lost when Nat started using her nails to gently massage your scalp.

--

"Carol," the assassin whispered to her wife. The blonde stopped her search for a good movie as she glanced over at Natasha.

"What is-" her question was quickly cut off by her wife quietly shushing her. Nat gestured down to the younger women currently lying in each of their laps. Carol glanced down to find Wanda's face hidden against the sleeve of her hoodie as she let out soft snores.

"Well, guess the movie idea's a bust," she whispered.

Natasha nodded, "You grab Wan, and I'll get Y/n."

Carefully, the heroes scooped the younger women into their arms and carried them to your shared bedroom. Natasha gently set you onto the bed beside your girlfriend and pulled the blanket- which was lying on the floor for whatever reason - to cover the two of you. Ever so cautiously, the couple crept out of the room.

[thefanficmonster]

Angel With A Shotgun

Rick Flag (The Suicide Squad) x Reader (Female)

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE NEW SUICIDE SQUAD MOVIE, Death, Blood and Gore, Swearing

Summary: Being Christopher Smith’s best friend since the early days of army training camps Y/N is more than honored to be going on a mission with him. Little does she know, there are more secrets at play than she could ever imagine. Good thing the girl’s always prepared.

Requested by no one, I’m just PISSED!!! The writers did us dirty AS FUCK and I’m not gonna stay quiet about it so please enjoy this fic and let’s pretend it’s canon. Cool? Cool.

“Careful up there, ok?“ That’s the last thing he said to me before we went our separate ways, following the plan we had conjured up earlier. I knew he wasn’t referring to the bombs I was supposed to plant or the ‘always watch your back, even around allies’ rule. He meant it genuinely. And he meant it for me. That sentence coupled with the look in his eyes when they met mine was enough for me to read between the words and grasp the true message.

And all I could do was offer him a small nod and an even smaller smile.

A smile he vaguely returned before turning and walking off with Cleo and Grieves. And that’s how I remembered him, wishing for that picture to be the one I remember of him in case I die.

In case I die.  I never considered the other possibility.

“Listen, Y/N. I’m gonna do something bad. Something really horrible. But it’s the right thing to do. I must do it. You know I only do things I must, right? You know me.“ He pleaded with me, eyes begging me to trust him as he basically told me he was derailing from the plan we had constructed down to the tiniest detail. 

My hands shook as I adjusted the bomb to the wall, my eyes widening and any words I wanted to tell him dying in my throat, leaving me speechless before him. As if automatically, my head moved on its own, nodding. It’s the only thing I’ve known I guess. Chris says something and I automatically agree cause I trust him limitlessly. Isn’t that how it always is with best friends after all? Can anyone blame me really?

But can anyone also blame me for my gut screaming not to let it go so easily?

There’s no real friends in the field, Y/N. He’s got a mission, you’ve got one of your own. You shouldn’t even be here, goddamn it! Go! GO, right this instant!

Gut feelings, the closest thing to being psychic. And boy does Flag owe my gut feeling his life.

But heroism always comes at a price, doesn’t it? There’s always a reward and a price that you never saw coming in the first place.

The reward is easy to guess, but the price can vary so drastically it can never be measured or foreseen.

That’s what happened to me when I decided to follow Chris.

The task I gave myself upon boarding the aircraft was simple, and the biggest price in my eyes was losing my life but I was already prepared for that when Waller recruited me on the very first mission.

Little did I know the price of saving Rick would be the look of utter betrayal in my best friend’s eyes, looking at me with the same intensity as a hundred voices screaming ‘TRAITOR’ at me.

“I’m sorry, Chris.“ I managed to say, my hands gripping the shotgun with all my might just so I don’t drop it. “You were sent here to cover up Waller’s dirty laundry, and I came here to protect Flag.” I cock my gun upwards, praying Chris doesn’t notice how shaky my hands are. “So keep your hands off him!“

He shakes his head, “You have no fucking idea what you’re doing, Y/N! Him over me?! Some fucking nobody over someone who’s been by your side for a whole fucking decade?!“

I gulp, my resolve only strengthening as a result of his guilt tripping. “You heard me. Friends or family, you don’t get a second chance for being a traitor.”

“Me?! I’M the traitor here?! He just threatened to send our country into chaos because of his righteousness!“ He roared, his gun clutched just as tightly. It may be the tension suggesting it but eventually, I know it’ll come down to who’ll pull the trigger first.

And that realization has cold sweat running down my body.

“Fake peace built atop lies is worse than a war!“ I snap, now aiming my gun at him, determined to be the first to send a bullet flying across the room. Not cause I want to survive for myself. But for Rick. If I die, so will he. Chris doesn’t play fair. Rick is knocked out and Chris won’t even think before turning his body into a bag of bullets. 

I won’t let that happen.

A gun’s pointed at me now too, sending my heart beating louder.

“Then you’ve picked the wrong side.“ He mutters with despise, “If you see me as no friend, I have no reason to hold back either.“

And that’s the last push I needed to send those three bullets I had with his name on them straight into his chest, at least one undoubtedly hitting his heart.

Did it hurt with all the memories we have made together in mind? Of course it fucking did. I may be a soldier/criminal but I’m not made out of stone, damn it.

But did it feel relieving knowing what he was seconds away from doing? Pains me to admit but yes.

With a heavy sigh I sling my shotgun over my shoulder and carefully walk over to Rick’s still unconscious form laying on the tiled floor.

“Colonel?“ I whisper, ducking down to give his shoulder a slight shake, “Flag, please don’t do me like this, wake up. Please wake up, Rick.“ I jump, almost losing my balance when I hear what sounds to be Harley screaming for a brief second before a loud crash echoes above.

I can’t stay here with whatever hell my teammates are going through going on above my head, threatening to wipe them all out and them Rick and me too. So, I make a quick and a rather stupid decision. Slinging one of Rick’s arms over my shoulders I wrap an arm around his waist and somehow manage to hoist him up, bringing him weakly to his feet and earning a small groan from him as if reaching me from the other side of a wall of fog.

“There you are, Colonel. Let’s go, the team’s counting on us.“ I say, desperately trying to push forward with the weight of my shotgun and Rick pushing my already exhausted and weak body down.

“Y/N...that you?“ He asks, his voice groggy, “Or am I dead? Are you an angel? Where am I?“ 

Damn Chris must’ve knocked his head pretty hard, I think to myself.

Just as I’m about to answer, Rick lifts up his hand to run it over his face to help himself wake up fully but he accidentally hits the handle of my shotgun, causing him to let out a chuckle. “Angel with a shotgun, I see. Then it must be you, Y/N.”

“Bet on it, Flag.“ I reply with a chuckle, almost sighing with relief when he manages to hold some of his weight up by himself, “Not gonna lie, you gave me quite the scare.“

“Never gonna happen again. That’s a promise, doll.“ He drawls, his head resting against my shoulder more as an endearing gesture than need for support.

“Better keep it. Not looking forward to finding you actually dead one day.“

“No worries, angel. No such thing will happen.“

“Good.“

He knows better than to disobey an angel with a shotgun. Smart man.

[torikengel]

Thomas Hewitt x Reader (Part 7)

It was like all of Thomas’s negative thoughts, and insecurities were swept away by this kiss. For the first time in his whole life, he felt accepted the way he was.

When your lips parted, you were both panting, desperate for air. You absentmindedly lost yourself in his eyes again. You were so captivated by this man, but so was he, completely smitten. You were speechless, but this wasn’t that awkward silence. It was a blissful and quiet moment in a small paradise you two created like the world, and time itself didn’t exist. Thomas was still cautious about his emotions as he was used to everyone stabbing him the back, sometimes literally. But your honest touch, the gentle expression on your face whenever you looked at him. Your words weren’t just empty lies after all, even if you yourself didn’t realize it and thought that you were just trying to survive.

Thomas put his mask into the pocket of his apron. Then he grabbed your hand and led you away from the house into the fields. You didn’t need to talk; you saw everything important in each other’s eyes. You observed the nature around you, basking in the sun. It felt so nice to be outside again. Thomas’s attention was captured by your beautiful h/c hair whirling in the wind. Why did everything about you had to be so dazzling, while he was just plain ugly, Thomas wondered. When you walked so far that the house was out of sight, Thomas stopped. He didn’t really know what to do with you. You looked around to inspect the wheat fields around you and then glanced back at Thomas.

“It’s lovely here. Thank you so much for taking me outside.” You inhaled the fresh air with a big smile on your face and clasped your hands together while unintentionally moving Thomas’s hand too. “Oh… right.” You said when you realized that you were still cuffed. Thomas let out a sorrowful groan. He contemplated whether to let you leave or not… but it would put his family in danger while causing him pain. He didn’t want you to leave. However, he also wanted you to be with him, because you enjoy it, not because Hoyt kidnapped you.

But you weren’t thinking about escaping at that moment; you knew it wouldn’t be that easy, and guilt for wanting to run away still haunted you in the back of your mind. Your brain couldn’t decide if Thomas was your captor or protector. Your logic told you that he’s a dangerous murderer, but your feelings made you sympathize with him and feel safe around him.

“Thomas?” you looked at him and raised your eyebrow. “So, what are we gonna do?” you asked as you knew that you two couldn’t really talk. Thomas shrugged. You got him. He didn’t have any plan and was starting to get flustered. “Hmm…” you glanced at the ground and then let yourself just fall, expecting Thomas to fall as well and make it into a cute moment between you two… but you miscalculated his size in comparison to yours, which resulted in only you falling and twisting your arm in a weird position while the cuff cut into your already damaged skin. “Oh fuck!” you cursed as pain shot through your arm. Thomas, baffled by whatever was it that you just tried to accomplish, kneeled, to relieve the pressure off your arm. “That hurt…” you whimpered, examining the injury. “I am stupid, aren’t I?” you exclaimed in disappointment. Thomas just chuckled and sat beside you, shaking his head. He didn’t think that. Thomas believed that everything you did was adorable in a way. Then he carefully checked your wrist and rolled his eyes. He didn’t like you being hurt. “I am sorry for making you worry about it, I am okay.” You tried to console him. But he took a small key out of his pocket and uncuffed you to stop the cuff from rubbing into your skin more. Now…

Your chance…

Freedom…

Run...

RUN!

Your heart started beating faster than ever before, and as adrenaline rushed through your veins, you were prepared to run for it with all your strength. You were so lost in your thoughts about the freedom that before you managed even to stand up, Thomas held your injured hand and kissed your bruised wrist. Your resolve crumbled. You were completely frozen. You just couldn’t move a single muscle. Thomas was scared… deep inside, he was trembling. The thought of you just suddenly running away, the picture of him chasing and killing you. His heart just needed one signal, and it would shatter. In the end, you just let yourself fall on your back and lie down on the field. It was the only thing you could’ve done. This might’ve been the only chance to go back home, yet your feelings decided to screw you over. But what was bothering you the most wasn’t the fact that you didn’t even manage to try… it was the reality of you not regretting it.

Tears streamed down your cheeks and onto the ground as you were just blankly staring at the sky, your body shaking. You didn’t understand anything that was happening and not even yourself. There was a battle going on inside your mind. Thomas only managed to stare at you, completely stunned. He couldn’t grasp what just happened, even though he was relieved that he didn’t have to hurt you… or was he? Could he actually hurt you? He was even more lost than before as he never felt something like this before. In the past, he would just butcher everyone who came his way to be useful for his family. Basically, his whole life, he was a mere tool. Now he wanted something for himself, he wanted to feel like a human for once, and you were the one who could give it to him.

You wanted to blame him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to… you were sympathizing with him way too much… and you were thankful that he spared you. That was probably a foolish and dangerous mindset, but you couldn’t do anything about it as your logic succumbed to your emotions.

After analyzing the situation for a while, Thomas wiped your tears with his thumb, his eyes fixated on yours. He was gentle. So gentle. He made it so hard for you to hate him.

You smiled at him, but he could see the sorrow in your eyes. But then you decided to sit up again and desperately crawled onto his lap. You needed to reassure yourself that it wasn’t such a bad decision to stay… he would’ve probably killed you anyway if you tried to run. You settled your mind with that thought and justified your actions to calm yourself. Sure, you are just trying to survive after all, or at least you were trying to convince yourself that it was like that. Thomas wrapped his big arms around you and held you close to him. You buried your face in his chest and closed your eyes. Suddenly, you felt so safe and happy, he was like your sanctuary. *

* You were sitting in a close embrace for a very long time. It was so peaceful, and you appreciated the nature around you. The Hewitt residence was filthy, and… well, it had a weird atmosphere to it. Thomas caressed your hair with such tenderness always looked at you, fascinated by your features. What would his life be like if he had smooth skin like you? Or a beautiful face? It was weird to feel the wind on his bare face because he didn’t take his mask off outside. He didn’t mind people being disgusted by his mask… but his face? That was a completely different thing. He was super self-conscious about it.

When you finally gained the courage to look at him, he instinctively hid his face with his hands.

“You don’t have to do that…” you whispered and tried to pull his arms away. You wouldn’t have a chance if he insisted on keeping them in place, but he let you move them.

“I really think you are handsome, Thomas.” You smiled and added as you realized that your eyes were all puffy and your face red. “I probably look so bad right now.” Thomas shook his head in disagreement and took your cheeks into his palms. Were you lying to him to make fun of him? You couldn’t mean that… he was handsome, and you looked bad? No way you were telling the truth. But before his insecurities could get the best of him, you leaned towards him and gave him a peck on his lips. Thomas immediately blushed as his heart started racing. It was always like a first kiss all over again for him. He couldn’t believe that it wasn’t just a dream.

“I mean it, trust me.” You giggled as you moved away again.

Thomas felt like crying again, even though he didn’t in the end. You brought up all of the memories from his childhood and teen years. The time was moving by so fast, and you didn’t realize you spent so many hours outside.

“Maybe we should head back…your family will be worried.” You said with a said sad face, but Thomas nodded. When you stood up, you looked at your arms again. You were still free… maybe you could…

“Thomas? Can you please cuff me again?” you raised your arm towards him. He was surprised that you so deliberately let him do it. You needed him to… or else you would feel guilty for not running away. Like this, you could fool yourself into believing that it wasn’t your choice to stay… or you would end up crazy. * * The peaceful moment of you two walking back, holding hands, was mercilessly shattered by a figure standing in front of the house. When you got closer, you could see Hoyt standing on the porch with a gun in his hand.

a/n:  This is getting interesting. What is that Hoyt planning for you, I wonder... Fun fact: I literally tied my wrist to sth that would be in a similar position as Thomas’s hand and then fell :D It really does hurt, wtf.

[diogxnes]

for the headcanon ask meme.. how about one of each? 0:-)

thanks love, and sorry for the late response!! i'm not 100% sure if i’m interpreting your ask correctly but i’m gonna take it as one of each body part canon for whatever character i feel like <3

headcanon: we don’t know anything about robin’s family but i am 100% certain that she has no siblings and her dad has been out of the picture for a very long time. she has a couple of fuzzy, vaguely nostalgic memories of him but knows rationally that there isn’t anything to miss because if he was really a good person or a good father he’d still be around. she lives with just her mom, who is well-meaning and tries and cares but has fallen off a bit, and struggles to take care of even herself, let alone an angsty, rebellious teenage daughter. so robin is an entirely different person at home--she’s the caretaker, the responsible one. she feels trapped and cannot wait to move out, but she also feels desperately guilty at the thought of leaving her mother to fend for herself. i think it makes a really good counterpoint to steve’s absent-powerful-parents situation (which technically isn’t canon but it looks like we’ve all just accepted it as fact lmao) and would be a really good source of conflict and personal growth for robin later in the show. (realized after i decided all this that this situation is similar to dustin’s and to jonathan’s. i love giving people mommy issues <3)

heartcanon: after the whole chasing-joyce-down-the-street thing jonathan goes back to the morgue because he doesn’t feel like he can go home just yet and feels irrationally like he owes it to will to look properly at his body instead of running away, since at least one person in their family needs to confront will’s death head-on and it clearly isn’t gonna be their mom. when he gets back hopper is still there, sorting out some of the paperwork that joyce left behind. hopper offers to go back with jonathan; he knows from experience how hard it is to look at the body of a kid you love, and he doesn’t want jonathan to have to face it alone. jonathan doesn’t really want the company but he doesn’t refuse it, either. he lets hop stand silently beside him while they wheel out will’s body, and when they pull back the sheet he’s about to lose his resolve again when he feels hop’s hand on his shoulder. neither of them say anything until they’re out on the street, about to go their separate ways. then hopper does his think where he bends down to be at eye level with short people and clasps both of jonathan’s shoulders and tells him that if he or his mom ever need anything, or even if jonathan just wants to talk to someone else who has gone through this, he can call any time and hopper will be there for him. neither of them ever speak of this interaction again, but jonathan treasures the knowledge that he has someone looking out for him and his family. 

gutcanon: steve is gonna die in s4. I don’t want it to happen but I feel in my bones that it will. this show hasn’t actually killed off any major characters yet (and anyone who thinks billy is a major character beyond being an antagonist can gtfo) and i don't think that everyone surviving is gonna last. and steve makes the most sense. they aren’t gonna kill off jonathan when the whole first season was about joyce getting her other son back from the dead. i don’t think they’re gonna kill any of the kids because they’re kids. nancy isn’t gonna die because for better or for worse the duffers have leaned REALLY hard into the whole “badass invincible girl with gun” thing. robin isn’t gonna die because the optics of immediately killing their only (out) gay character are not good. joyce isn’t gonna die because that’ll mess up hop’s redemption arc and lbr winona carries the show. so that leaves steve. also it’s a fantastic (if horrifying) conclusion to his character arc if he goes from dustin calling him “that douchebag steve harrington” in 1.01 to sacrificing himself to save dustin in s4. yknow what i should’ve made this my headcanon and the robin thing my gutcanon because this is WAY more thought out lmao

junkcanon: steve is a top and jonathan is a bottom. unless you’re into stoncy in which case steve is the ultimate power bottom and nancy is unquestionably the top of the bunch. nancy is a top and robin is a bottom. i will not explain myself because i know that i am right 

spleencanon: this is also a headcanon and a heartcanon but jonathan absolutely went and apologized to both steve and nancy together for the s1 photos and they had an adult conversation about how it wasn’t okay but he’s learned and grown and moved on. because absolutely fuck the duffers for deciding that STEVE was the one who needed to apologize to JONATHAN for destroying the camera that was used to take creepshots of his girlfriend. and fuck the duffers for deciding that “in that moment you weren’t like the other girls <3” was a good justification for taking topless pics of nancy without her consent. so yeah jonathan owned up to it and took responsibility and apologized (beyond the super brief “i shouldn’t have taken those”) and only after that did steve forgive him and replace his camera <3

[bubblyani]

Bail Out : 10 (FINAL)

(Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A Bruce Wayne Multi Chapter Series

Chapter 10: Life Sentence (Final Chapter)

Summary: One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault.  However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne,  surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your  choices in life, career, and in love.

Word Count: 6200+

Rating: Mature (18+)

Warnings: Violence, Swearing and Sexual Content

Author’s Note: The Final Chapter is finally here! As much as it makes me happy to give this the ending I wanted, I am truly sad to part with this Series. Hope you will enjoy this for the last time <3

CHAPTER LIST

Serene was the nocturnal sky, generously adorned with stars that shone like diamonds. Though an obstinate circle of clouds slowly advanced from the distance, the sky brimmed with enough confidence. Enough to conquer the night with its serenity. A sheer contradiction to the chaos that conquered the rooftop of Wayne Tower. Chaos that morphed into a fight to the death.

Gripping on to the phone, a surge of hope rushed through your system within a matter of seconds. For Blake’s message helped. It was the solution to all this. “LOOK OUT!” Batman’s growl made you look back. Your face grew pale the moment your eyes caught the sight of Emilio, pointing a gun at you. All happened in a matter of seconds. “You’re getting away that easy!” He said, chill embodying him with his hand in the trigger. It seemed death was greedy for your company. Frozen in place, Would you accept? “Goodby-Ow!” A surprise attack greeted Emilio from the back as the Dark Knight forcefully bashed his head with his elbow, leaving Mr. Slender on the ground, fully unconscious. You sighed looking at Batman, relieved to find him well. Except, you realized the evening was not fully resolved. Wait! Your heart raced frantically. Where was Clara all the sudden? Darkness was an ally to Clara, camouflaged as she ambushed Batman from the back. You gasped as you saw her grab his neck with a black wire, forcing him to fall on his knees as she began to strangle him with it. A strong man, he certainly was. You needed no proof. However, sneak attacks such a this were practically anyone’s weakness. Thus, his agonizing roars frightened you. Seemed that death turned its attention somewhere else. And that frightened you more. “No…Bruce” You whimpered to yourself, as your heartbeat grew fast in ten folds. Never had you lost anyone you cared for. And as weak as it seemed, you were not prepared to lose him. Not him. Not him at all.

“Wait! WAIT!!” You yelled at Clara, “DON’T DO THIS! NOT TO HIM!!” 
 Unfortunately, those words did not reach Clara’s ears. Not when her focus was elsewhere. Even through the cowl, Bruce’s face had turned gaunt, struggling to pull the wire off his neck, but failing miserably. With gritted teeth and groans of frustration, Batman was as helpless as he could be. Smothering yourself by the sight of him this way, tears pooled around your eyes. And at that moment.That very moment, was when a memory flashed before you:


“You know what? It’s a darn shame Joe Chill didn’t finish the job…He should have gotten rid of the entire Wayne family”

You remembered Henderson’s harsh words, insulting and harming the reputation of the man you admired before you at the hotel one fateful night. Then you also remembered the rage in your eyes, taking justice into action as your fist bashed through his nose.

Now here you were, having to stand up for the same man once more, except in actual dire circumstances. For it was his life that was harmed instead of his reputation. Being the reckless woman you were before will certainly not help.Not with her. Not with an opponent of this magnitude. As time ticked fast, you had to take action. Smart was key. Practicality was key. His life was key. Tightening your fists, you drew in a deep breath:

“ALPHA!!…” You cried out, to which she did not answer once again. Pressing your lips together, you yelled louder: “CLARA!! I KNOW, OKAY?…” You said, "I know, being in your position, you don’t wanna hear me out. I know!” You continued, “Especially me being the target but…” drawing in another breath for courage, you added,  “But I ask you to make an exception...Oh god!” Covering your mouth, You gasped as she strangled  him tighter. Unaffected, Clara scoffed:  
 “No offense but…A job is a job…” Gathering the courage that spilled all around, you held on to the phone tightly: “Yeah maybe but..What if the job is NOT worth it?” You inquired loudly. Looking up, she seemed a bit surprised. “What?” “I mean…” you paused, “Is Henderson really giving you what he promised?” You said, raising both arms, “Or don’t you have a feeling that he’s stalling ?” Clara stood straight. “What makes you say that??” She snapped defensively. “This…” You replied, pointing at your phone as  you played the Blake’s file on loudspeaker: It was a conversation between two men.

“Sir, about the Bruiser, I think the police maybe onto us” One man said, his tone rife with concern. “Don’t worry, she’ll finally be taken care of” the other voice replied. Which seemingly was Henderson’s. “When do you want to wire the rest of the payment to Alpha?” Henderson’s cackle was loud, “Payment??” He repeated, “No that’s not gonna happen, Paterson” “Sir?” Paterson was confused. “This Alpha..he’s is a sly one, and definitely not the obedient kind. Do you think my plan was to pay that son of a bitch in full?? Nah...as soon as the job is done, I’m gonna get them all arrested...Cause no one...No one messes with Henderson” “But sir-” “THAT’S FINAL!”

Calmer was what you felt, as you put the phone back in your pocket. A few seconds of silence was all that required for Clara to loosen her grip on Batman. Her expression changed. It was filled with shock, as if the recording had slapped her in the face.

“Don’t you see??” You chuckled sadly, “Henderson is trying to make a fool out of ALL of us.” As you pointed at her, at Batman, even Emilio, “In the end...it’s  us who’s getting screwed” Staring at the ground, Clara’s eyebrows furrowed. Being a pawn in someone else’s game was never good news, “That message could have easily been fabricated! ” She snapped with naiveté. You smiled sadly.

“I think you pretty much know that I don’t do that. I never do that” you said, tone brimming with confidence, “Remember, you once called me an unprofessional thug with anger issues? Well guess who’s exactly just that??” You added, “You’re not a reckless one, Clara. I know that. Don’t... let one bad client ruin your life, just don't”

Silence followed you soon after, sending you in to spirals of concern. Yet, it was evident you did your best. And waiting with bated breath seemed worthwhile, when Clara released finally Batman from her grasp. Falling on to the ground, you watched him gasp for air. As much as you longed to be there by his side, you merely kept standing, resolute in protecting his identity and your relationship with him. You stood as if he meant very little for you. Painful as it was, it had to be done. Yet, it did not stop you from smiling with relief. 

“Here you are, getting away from death once again” you heard Clara say, as you found her looking at you with a smug expression, “Wait!” She paused, her smile disappearing, “ If I shot you…” she said, pointing at you, “…then…why aren’t you bleeding?”

Standing up slowly, you pulled up your t-shirt, revealing the black bulletproof vest, with the bullet still intact. Mouth slightly parted, Clara certainly appeared surprised. Upon seeing her reaction, you were certainly relieved to have listened to Alfred Pennyworth’s careful instructions earlier. You were relieved you actually listened.

“Loyalty has its perks, you were right” You said with a smile. You sensed Bruce looking at you, pleased. And if Alfred was there, he would not hesitate to offer a prideful nod.

Clara chuckled, before walking towards the now-groaning Emilio. And truthfully, you did not mind.Bad blood was never a necessity between the two of you. Regardless of all that happened, regardless of her attempts to wipe your existence off the face of the earth, your eyes could never put in a pair angry glasses when it came to Clara. Hurt you were, truly. But never wrath. And you were relieved. For you could empathize, for you respected her for who she truly was: a woman who took her job very seriously. Picking Emilio up, she looked over to you: “Everything aside…” she began, “I meant what I said...” she said, “...it has been an honor knowing you. But...it’s up to you to believe me” she added whilst shrugging. All you could do was to nod. For it seemed the most appropriate. And with a sudden cloud of smoke bursting before you, she and Emilio disappeared.

“Bruce!” You breathed worriedly, dashing towards Batman helping him slowly get back up. For finally, you were free to feel relieved for him. Breathing deeply, he looked you straight in the eyes through his cowl: “Are-Are you oka-”

He was cut off, as you decided to kiss him with utmost passion.

This kiss, it encompassed relief. Relief to find him alive and out of death’s reach. It encompassed of your guilt, of your inability to assist him sooner. And by his enthusiasm kissing you back, a rush of excitement coursed through you. Especially when you came to the realization you not just kissing Bruce Wayne, you were also kissing Batman. And that was not a common occurrence. Shrieking Police sirens from downstairs pulled both of you away. Given the sounds coming from inside the building, you knew there would be police company.

“Go...” You said to him, “...it’s okay” “You sure?” He inquired deeply, to which You nodded. “Absolutely...I can handle it” And you certainly were confident about it.

The roar of thunder surprised you, signaling the hasty arrival of cold showers, descending from the dark clouds that now had completely taken over the skies. Looking up, you smiled as the continuous drops refreshed your face.

“Well, whaddaya know?” you began, as you turned to look back at him “…it’s-” Only to find he had disappeared, “….raining”.

Amused once again by his signature move, You smiled to yourself, “So cool…” you muttered, looking over your shoulder the moment the rooftop door suddenly flew open, as a group of policemen finally swarmed out with John Blake’s familiar face leading them.

Though the clear skies were serene, the clouds truthfully seemed to have actually brought rains of hope in disguise. For finally, all was well for you. With an non washable smile on your face, you indulged in the rain for as long as adulthood permitted you to.

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

Gotham city, yet again declared its intention to never rest, and the Gotham Police was clear proof. But as you sat across John Blake’s desk, you were certain of the fact at least your heart could rest easy tonight. And you were grateful.

“Thanks for this by the way…” you said, gently pulling the neckline of the gray hoodie you had on. The rains of hope were refreshing, yet you were drenched by the end. Thus, the gray hoodie that was lent to you was a life savor.

“Oh, Officer Langdon had a spare one so..”

Blake replied casually, before looking over at Nina Langdon. You also looked over at her with surprise. Working on her police reports with diligence, she was the epitome of bad-assery in your eyes.

“You’re welcome” eyes meeting yours, Nina said coolly with a smile. Relieved, an inaudible “Thank You” escaped your lips as your head slightly bowed involuntarily. Nodding back, her eyes quickly move towards Blake’s, her smile growing larger. And you were immediately reminded of the visit from last time.

“I know…” You began softly, forcing Blake to look back at you, “…it’s not my place but…” you added, as he leaned forward with concern “I’ve been tracking some serious sparks between the two of you since my first time here…” you stated. And to your relief, Blake chuckled, making John chuckle, “…please tell me something’s going on-”

“Oh yeah there is…” John said, “…for sure” He confirmed with a nod.

“AHA!” You snapped your fingers victoriously, “So I DO have the sense. Thank goodness” you laughed alongside him. As the laughter subsided, you took a deep breath: “You were the real hero today, Officer…” you uttered, crossing your legs, “…I mean, if it weren’t for the recording…” you breathed in,  “…it would have been one hell of a bloody evening…”

“Yeah…but …" he began, “I don’t know if I can use this against Henderson” a downcast expression clouded his face. Your eyebrows furrowed as you suppressed a sudden yawn.

“What do you mean?”

“You kidding right? An Officer recording a conversation through eavesdropping?” His eyes questioned your sanity, “ Wouldn’t exactly go well with our case…”

“Oh yeah…” a trace of enthusiasm left your system as you nodded. How naive you were to even assume this would be child’s play, “…and I bet the CCTV cameras had something to catch” you muttered, slowly coming to the disappointing realization. You may have escaped death. But the root of all danger, the man with the power and the riches, would be left unaffected. As if nothing significant occurred.

“I’m sorry this was a dead end,Ma’am” Blake said sadly. The vibration of your phone urged you to look down, seeing the text brought a smile. A comforting smile. “Not entirely” you replied, looking back at him, “I mean, We know who planned it all, right?And the assassin will have no business with me anymore..so…” you paused, “…not all hope is lost” Smiling warmly, you slowly got up, “You saved many lives today, that counts. Thank you...for everything, Officer Blake”

Officer Langdon stood next to Blake, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Looking at her hand, he turned back to you with a smile full of content. Fortunate you were truly to be arrested by him that fateful evening. Fortunate you were to have him believe in you. You were truly fortunate.

Standing by the entrance of the precinct, you breathed in deep. A smile was inevitable the moment your eyes caught the sight before you. Dressed in a fine suit as always, Bruce Wayne leaned against his Black Lamborghini as he waited for you late at night. With the streets almost empty at that hour, you were truthfully quite relieved to find him there. And admittedly, the sight of him instantly grabbed you by the hand, leading you to the very first morning when he showed up this way.

“You clean up pretty good, Mr. Wayne” You jested, slowly walking towards him. He smiled: “Part of the job, I guess” he responded which drove you to a chuckle, “Let’s go home”

A faint camera shutter sound intruded your ears, capturing your attention. Looking to your left, you spotted a young, scrawny looking man shyly scurrying away with a camera phone in hand. What photo did he take? A part of you longed to know, however the other greater part did not seem to care, for you truly were not in the shape to mind at all.

Getting in to the vehicle, memories that still seemed fresh revisited you. That first conversation, getting your hand treated, accidentally having your poor heart stirred. Leaning against the passenger seat, a luxurious sense of comfort brought out another yawn from you.

“I gotta say…” Bruce began, starting the engine, “The vest, I really did not see that coming”

“Hmmmm” you hummed, occupied in the comfort with your eyes closed. “But really, that was very clever of Alfr-”

His words were faint, growing even softer. For you were a willing victim to the exhaustion , which was effortlessly brought out by the comfort of an expensive leather car seat.

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

Erik Henderson was impatient, and it certainly showed. With his silk robes moving around, he paced from one corner of his bedroom to the other with speed. For along with impatience came disappointment.

“Is the girl here yet?? Where the fuck are they?”

He snarled loudly, when he sat on one of armchair. As for the Bruiser, he was promised the deed would be done tonight, with the result presented tomorrow morning. But until then, it did not hurt for him to engage in some early celebrations. Preferably with the company of his usual lineup of high end call girls. However, they were late.

Along with his ill temper and lack of appreciation to his wife, infidelity was high on the list. And tonight, his body was ready with much enthusiasm. He was ready to feel like a man. Ready to indulge in the sight of the women pleasure one another, only to pleasure him soon after. Still, they were late.

“Apologies! Mr. Henderson”

His eyes to shot up by the sound of a brunette woman. She stood by entrance of his room wearing a trench and beige heels, her full lips and big eyes growing distinctive as she began to walk towards him. Henderson raised his eyebrows:

“Wait a minute!” He said, as she approached him, “You’re not the girl I asked for ...” he said, rising from the chair angrily, “Why aren’t you answering me, you bitc-ARGH!”

Henderson cried out loud, when he realized the woman grabbed him by the arm, only to twist it effortlessly, switching to grip his neck tightly before she stabbed his stomach with a small knife. With his defenses weakened and knife still in stomach, he was lowered back to his chair. However, her hand did not leave his neck.

“Wh-” Henderson began breathlessly, “Who the fuck are you?” He inquired.

“Perhaps this...might jog your memory” the woman said, as she proceeded to wear a black mask, that shaped like a skull. Eyes widened, Henderson just could not fathom what he just witnessed.

“Alpha!?” He breathed. “Indeed, I am…” Clara  replied, now in that familiar robotic voice. “You’re…” he stuttered, “…you’re a wo-”

“Ugh!” She shook her head,“Save me the sexist bullshit” she added annoyingly, whilst taking off the mask,“Looks like you were never gonna pay for our services, huh?” She inquired, “And I bet ...” she said, her free hand going through his chair while the knife was still intact, “….you have an alarm for the police to show up, hmmm?” She raised her eyebrows, finally discovering his mobile phone, “Heh! Just what I thought...” She remarked with a chuckle. So the Bruiser was right all along.

Speechless and injured, Henderson only could hyperventilate weakly. Clara smiled at him coldly. Funny how the tables have been turned. Funny how the man once was powerful now reeked of sheer desperation.

“I knew You’ve always been bad, Mr.Henderson” she began, “…but THIS? This disrespect? is just unforgivable. So…here’s what we’re gonna do…” She added, menace evident in her tone while she twisted the knife harder into his stomach, that sent him screaming, “You and I…we are gonna take a little trip… out of Gotham”

Fear translated in to Henderson’s quivering lips, “For-For h-how long?”

“Oh….” Ready to show her true colors, Clara Bennett flashed an evil grin, “…indefinitely”

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

The blue hour greeted your fluttering eyes gently the next morning. Stretching lazily, you felt your presence on a bed. It seemed the car seat was full of comfort it sent you to the deepest slumber. The blue hour appeared more graceful at the Wayne Penthouse. It was indeed quite the beauty. But the beauty was intensified the moment your eyes glimpsed upon the man laying beside you.The man who gazed long enough for you to smile shyly. 

“I dozed off last night huh?” You inquired, your tone rife with sleepiness.

He nodded gently. Pressing your face against the pillow, embarrassment took control. The thought of Bruce Wayne carrying your sleeping figure all the way to bed was more than you could imagine. What if you snored? What if you drooled? Oh! The horror!

“I’m sorry...” you mumbled, looking at him. However, he shook his head.

“Don’t need to...” he replied, his breathy tone sending shivers down your spine. You raised your eyebrows: “Shouldn’t you should be sleeping?” you inquired playfully, whilst laying on your side.

“Don’t want to...” He said, moving closer to you.

His tone may have been gentle, yet it did not mean he was not confident about it. And the moment you felt his lips press against yours, that confidence suddenly had more reason. Kissing him back, you indulged it as you would indulge your morning coffee. Even better. His kiss at dawn was a gentle fire, that was lit to spread warmth around a once cold and lifeless room, to give it the life it once had. His kiss was also a reminder of what you needed. A need that was urgent. Pulling away gently, you glanced upon the surprised expression in his face. You could empathize why, and you were surely were not planning to disappoint.

Maintaining his gaze, you dipped your hands under the white sheets, stripping yourself off your sweatpants and underwear as fast as you could. He was certainly fascinated as you tossed the sheet aside, only to slowly straddle him, wearing nothing but the gray hoodie. A faint gasp left you when your naked mound made subtle contact with his shorts. It caused friction. More importantly, it caused sheer arousal that stimulated the entirety of your senses. Seeing him so calm beneath you, it certainly was a pleasurable sight. Balancing yourself over the mattress with one hand, you were surprised at how you managed to pull down his shorts with ease, receiving his full cooperation to remove it completely. You were calm, yet daring this morning.

The sight of Bruce draw in his shaky breath as you slowly sank into his abundantly erect manhood caused weakness in your knees. However, you had to be strong. Your damp opening welcomed him whole, as you finally sat with comfort. Finally becoming one, you stretched yourself, pulling your hoodie off, leaving you completely bare. With your hands resting on his bare chest, you permitted the gentle blue morning filter wash over you when you began to roll your hips in slow rhythm. For you were a lazy rider, mounted on a horse who took you home with relaxation. For you were both relaxed, for you were both calm. This morning, it need not be a passionate race that needed a speedy finish. It was merely just two lovers on a slow journey, intimate and brimming with emotion.

Amidst the breathy moans exchanged between the two, Your eyes conversed with his. You told him how indebted you were to him in every way. You stressed how you wished every second with him was longer than the others. You apologized for every single moment you hurt him without your knowledge. He acknowledged them all, surprising you as he sat up in a flash. Wrapping his arms around your waist, his fingers explored your bare back, feeling its curves before he proceeded to envelope his lips in yours in a slow, yet passion inducing kiss. He kissed you with a mission. As if he longed to fulfill your wish, as if he was on a fierce attempt to slow down time. The manner his tongue embraced your own, certainly was a display of how this pleasure was to be indulged in the slowest, possible manner.

And it certainly meant taking one’s sweet time.

Distracted with his kisses, you were even unaware of his right hand roaming over to cup your left breast. In the midst of the morning chill, he warmed it with his generous palm, his thumb gently running over the now erect bud. The fact he savored this act slow, roused you even further. Shivering moans exited your lips the moment his delicious mouth replaced his thumb, latching on to it. The manner of which he suckled it, the manner he tasted it with passion, provided a new form of life within you. Kissing his head frantically, you continued to moan. You adored this man, you could not deny it. In fact, you could burst into tears by the thought of it. With his lips now placing gracious kisses around the softness of your breast, sparks of fire began to spread. Your fingers traced over the strangle marks on his neck, causing your lips to quiver with emotion.

Kissing his neck with determination, you hoped you would not inflict more pain upon him ever again. He heard your hopes, as his own lips frantically looked for yours to kiss you once again. Surprise was clearly the main role this morning. Your eyes widened the moment he quickly turned, flipping you back to bed, hovering over you.

Holding on the headboard, Bruce continued to move inside of you, frustratingly slow. His soft breathy moans blessed your ears, while his finger felt your sensitive nub at your opening, providing ample stimulation to throw your head back and feel the headboard behind you. He breathed in your name religiously, urging you to look at him. He spoke to you in hushed tones. He swore to protect you always, no matter what may come his way. He swore with such passion and desperation.

You believed him, with all your heart you longed to. However, you were also realistic. This was all on the brink of passion. For truthfully, Life never was always kind to everyone who walked this earth. Exceptions would always exist, even where he could not show up. And you did not take them to heart. Not one bit. For you knew better. As he buried his face on your neck, adorning it with kisses, that was when you decided, deep in your heart, to make your own promise.

Blinded by passion or not, you swore. Your swore to be at your best, and keep yourself safe. And whatever trouble may announce its arrival, he would never blamed for it. Never ever. For he was no god. He was only a man. And he was yours.

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

Hues of yellow infused with the blue as the sunlight secretly crept into the penthouse. It brought more color. But nothing could replace the magic of the blue hour, and you were grateful to have made great use of it this morning. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you slowly put the pants back on, whilst the gentle yellow light grazed over your naked torso. Bruce’s hand stroked your shoulder blades, surprising you even further when you felt his blessed lips on the lower back. Biting your lip shyly, you proceeded to dress yourself with the gray hoodie once more. But in fact, butterflies still managed to flutter within you. If only words existed for you to describe the effect this man had on you, they would be used fervently. But since there were none, you knew you would fail to do him justice. The value you held for him was beyond all measure. And that was why you were reminded of what you longed to tell him before:

“Bruce?”

“Hmmm?”

Lazy hums escaped Bruce when you turned to his reclined figure in bed. Sitting crossed legged, nervousness washed all over. You wished for a distraction. You wished to remain in his arms a bit longer. But this was mandatory, thus a deep breath was a necessity:

“I got a job offer...from Hudson’s”

You said. Surprised, Bruce slowly sat up.

“The HR company?”

To which you nodded slowly, “Yeah…And I think…” you paused, “I think I’m gonna take it”

You watched him slowly process the information he just received. It was evident with his concerned expression. “You’re… leaving Wayne Enterprises?”

He breathed in inquiry. You froze. For that sentence simply forced your heart to clench tightly. And the fact those words exited his lips in an innocent manner, made it truly worse. Nostalgia hit you violently in the head. After an entire decade of devoting one’s life to this company, it would seem unthinkable. Yet, decisions such as these were not for the faint hearted. And you certainly were not one. 

“Yes I am…” you admitted, “But not right away…” you quickly added, moving closer to him, “…I still have a lot to do, like cover for Lillian during her leave, and If I am leaving, I’m gonna have to train whoever will be taking my place…I just…” you paused, “I just wanted to let you know…before I accept it”

Your clenched heart remained so, as silence filled the room. His doe-eyed expression was clear as day, taking in the news: “So…” he began, staring at you, “…It’s finally happening, huh?” He muttered.

Exhaling deep, you smiled softly: “I’ve been holding onto this company for so long cause of loyalty...that I didn’t even think of my own career…” you said, “But…after I met you, everything is starting to make sense, everything I need to do is coming to me” you continued, “So, If I leave… I can finally do what I’m really good at”

There was no mirror, yet you could feel your own eyes sparkle with excitement by the mere thought of it. You could imagine it already, walking over to Lucius Fox, handing in your notice of resignation. And you could certainly imagine his response as he would smile with a nod: “I understand” He would say, with a silent exchange of understanding for it was clear you were doing the right thing. You could imagine it all. Blinking that future away, you looked at Bruce:

“And if I leave…” you said, “I don’t have to question my liberties anymore, especially when I think about us...” you paused, breathing deeply, “If that’s what you really want. Cause…” you added as you bravely cupped his face, “…that’s what I want”

When silence overpowered the atmosphere, you grew concerned. But before you could make your way down that path, Bruce expressed his opinion by leaning forward with a loving kiss. A loving kiss that encompassed everything: His acknowledgement, his excitement, and even a taste of sadness.

“Well...” he breathed into your lips, “As much as I’m going to miss seeing you at office-” You chuckled, “You rarely get to see me unless you come by-” Chuckling back, he nodded, “Point made”. Concerned, you looked directly at him. “You upset?” You inquired, to which he immediately shook his head. “Actually…” he smiled, “I’m proud of you. The way you truly want to go far for what you really need, you inspire me. You give me hope” he added, “And yes! I do want this” holding both of your hands, he stressed, “So it’s definitely worth it” You gulped, as you realized that your heart had more to reveal that expected. Especially when you saw him show this much of enthusiasm. With a heartbeat strong enough to penetrate through your entire being, you began: “Bruce…” you paused, “That day when you bailed me out, I got a Life Sentence”

Suddenly, that smile of his disappeared with concern. To which you could only smile wider with amusement.

“I got a Life Sentence, because you stole my heart” you added, “And that’s a Sentence I was willing to take on. That’s a Sentence I could never get over.” You said, “I know, there will be a day…where you and I can walk hand in hand in public, with nothing to fear. We won’t have to worry about our reputation or our safety. I know that day will come soon” you continued, hope filled in your tone, “ But until then, I’m willing to do anything. I’m willing to be quiet, I’m willing to pretend, I’m willing to let the whole world believe I’m minding my own business, when I’m actually happily minding my own business…with you” holding his hands tightly, you spoke with adoration, “Cause given the current circumstances, I am not gonna give a shit about what everyone is gonna think, or about showing off. I just wanna be happy. And being by your side is one important factor of it. That’s it…” you took a deeper breath, “I love you, Bruce” you spoke in an emotional tone, “And the more time passes,  I think I find it harder to deny that…”

Letting it all out, never did anything feel this taxing on you. Especially as you kept looking into his beautiful eyes that were a journey in itself to embark on.

“I wish you know…” Bruce began, “…how it frightens me to make promises” he said softly. The pain in his voice was evident. The pain he seemingly had held in all these years. You nodded fast.

“I know, i know…” you admitted in honesty, “Being in your…position, I don’t blame you.  Not one bit. You don’t have to say anything, Bruce” you said for you truly meant it.

“But…” he began, holding your hands once more, “You will know in time...you will know how much I love you. Cause I do”

Jaw dropped, suddenly your clenched heart loosened up completely. His face formed a puzzled expression. “What?” “You just said it...” You said, chuckling when he finally came to the realization of what he just admitted. Euphoria, rushed though you as you covered your mouth with emotion. For ever since the day you fell for him, those words were what you always dreamed of hearing.

“Wow! You love me...” you voice broke, as tears formed within you, “…you do love m-” mumbled last words did not seem to matter when Bruce pulled you in for another gentle kiss. He loved you. Bruce Wayne he loved you. Unfathomable yet real. Immersed in his arms in an embrace, you rubbed his back with love.

“Don’t worry…” you assured, “I know what I’m getting into. And I’ll be here…” you paused, “…for a while. Okay…maybe even longer than that” you jested, as he began to laugh out loud. The sight of his laughter was what you cherished. And what you hoped to provide for him as long as you could.

You fixed your hair hurried upon seeing Alfred Pennyworth enter the room with morning tea. The fact he found you in bed with Bruce made you embarrassed.

“Sorry Alfred...” you muttered shyly. Alfred however, never looked this pleased. “Never apologize for putting a smile on Master Wayne’s face, Miss” He said, as he placed the tray on the bedside cupboard “And mine...”

A trickle of warmth engulfed your heart, to the point you felt your nose itch with the urge to cry once again. Scrunching up your nose, you smiled. Blessed it was truly to be this loved.

“Apparently,Henderson is missing”

“WHAT?” You and Bruce both inquired, looking at Alfred.

“That’s what it says in the papers” He responded, waving the newspaper in his hand.

Was it Clara’s doing? Was it her way of acquiring revenge? You could not help but wonder as Alfred began to read the mentioned article to Bruce. And then again, how ironic. Erik Henderson strongly wished for you to disappear, yet ended up disappearing himself.

The bedside cupboard beside you vibrated. Taking the phone, you found a text from Allison:

lol…did you see this? 

Below the text was a link attached. A link that directed you to an article at a familiar website: wheresdabat.com

Your eyes widened by the sight of the photo that was above the article. A photo that showed you standing outside the Police Station with Bruce from last night. The article was written as the following:

Just when we were filled with hope of a possible spark between Batman and the Bruiser, we run into another hurdle. For here we can see the Bruiser’s employer, Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne arrived to her legal rescue once again last night. What could it be? A Love Triangle perhaps? Or are we just kidding ourselves completely??

Amused laughter erupted from your throat, causing Bruce and Alfred to look at you.

“Everything okay?” Bruce inquired.

“Yeah, its just...” you smiled, “It looks like the name Bruiser is gonna stick around for a while” you said, showing them the website article.

“Well…” Bruce began, “… it does have a ring to it” he added with a smile. 

“You know what?” You looked at them, “ I like it” You chuckled, “ I used to hate that name, so so much. But not anymore. Guess it’s my own alias now.” you said jokingly.

It was evident it would be a scar you would have to wear for a while. But in truth, it was a scar you would gladly wear. For that scar, it bailed you out, it brought you the liberation you desired, and it led you to love. Thus, you were not remorseful at all. No wonder you like it so.

Excitement bubbling within you in great speed, you began to form a text reply to your friend:

Fuck!

You sent in an instant.

FUCK!!!

It certainly did not take long for Allison to respond:


Oh no ...what is it, Sweetie? I’m sorry but I thought it was just hilarious...

Chuckling, you texted back:

No it’s not that. Ali, I think...

Over excitement led to accidentally hitting ‘send’ before you could finish typing.

What ? What is it? You’re freaking me out here…

Smiling upon seeing Allison’s reply, you looked up. Never did you imagine the sight of Bruce and Alfred causally having their morning tea would bring you such joy. With your smile still intact, you replied with the most happiness and the utmost confidence: 


I think it’s officially official with me and Bruce Wayne!!!


——————THE END—————————

Another Author’s Note: Thank You for all you lovely people who decided to join me in this journey on Bail Out! When I took a break and started planning this story, I never thought I would receive this much love. Truthfully this is one of the favorites I have written and with the most effort and hard work. So your love meant so so much! My heart is literally heavy now. You are all awesome! Love you all! Keep being awesome!

Tagged: @tealaquinn​ @ladyerina​ @kittenlittle24 @wholesumm @everyday-imfangirling​ @lucy-roo​ @works-of-fanfiction​ @bale-is-a-babe @badsext​  @maddistyles17 @truly-insatiable @gooseyhouse​ @artsymaddie​ @quarterback-5 @mamooska8 @strangerliaa​ @jensen-impala​ @lilyofthesword​ @woodencupcake​ @fonduebitches @soullesstaco​ @spicybellinger​ @marvel-lously​ @glitterypinkkitty​ @danceyreagan​​ @barikawho​​ @lostgirl0020​ @diogodxlot​​ @elena-mayfair​​ @xxdearlybeloved​​ @shewearsprada​​

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[alfredosauce50]

What makes me human [Cyberpunk! America x reader] 13

Wordcount: 3, 132 Rating: T for strong language and mature themes “And even after all that, he tried to kill him again. And he used her to do it. His own fucking daughter. I'll be damned if she wants to see him again.” Chapter synopsis: Alfred survives the ordeal, but not without a severe case of amnesia. You realize your role in his suffering, having been used and cast aside like a tool. Unwilling to go down without a fight, you're eager to find your purpose in life through new friends. Meanwhile, Allen senses the beginning of another conflict, and it's the most personal yet. The reader is referred to as she/her.

13 - Life in death

Songs to listen to while you read (in order as found in playlist): Formula, Someone lived this, The Legend of Ashitaka, Memory, Say Goodnight, Instant Crush. I have indented song titles throughout the chapter so you can change accordingly. Starting now: Formula

The screams and clatters of surgical equipment finally came to an end. Everyone in the lab was sure as the sun the patient they scrambled to save would die, but not because of their incompetence. After getting too close to you for his liking, Allen drew out his gun to sedate him. Permanently.

However, no shots were fired that night.

When you pulled the frazzled man outside to drag him down the metal-lined walls, they refused to stop spitting out rapid-fire questions. “Where the hell am I? What did they do to me?” As his frantic whispers filled your ears, you responded with a frustrated huff. “I'm not gonna shut up til' you answer me. And I can keep this up forever--you know it!”

It wasn't until he was shoved into the privacy of the guest room did you turn to him with folded arms.

“Goddamit, (F/N)! Look at me, would you?” He cut himself off abruptly when he realized you already did. Then, the man watched you approach him slowly, quietly, but his agitation wasn't soothed just yet. And it was apparent in how his chest continued to heave up and down to his deep breaths.

“Talk to me. Please?”

When he saw the despondent look you gave him, he came to doubt his resolve to hear the biting truth he begged for.

“We're at a friend's house. Arthur's. If you're wondering why he has a lab, he's a doctor. Well, used to be.” He eased up but didn't separate his lips, beckoning you to continue.

“They saved you.”

Regret contorted at your expression as you spoke, and it only intensified when you saw what was written all over his face. He was about to ask just what he was saved from--why you looked at him that way. And you were right on the mark.

“... Alright... Then what happened to me?”

Turning away to the side, creases formed between your brows in a deep frown. You glanced back at him after a brief pause.

“A virus happened. One that's strong enough it could've killed you.”

One of his eyes narrowed in confusion. That was the first time he'd heard of such a thing. “And where the hell did that come from?”

You, on the other hand, learned of it when you reunited with Allen. And he had lots to say about it. The virus itself came from the chip you helped Alfred steal. And now that you thought about it, things have never been this clear--the whole ordeal, beginning to end. The chip itself, the Soulkiller. Why your father never bothered to get you.

You were nothing but a pawn in his ploy to kill him.

���... The Soulkiller.”

Alfred squinted. “The what?”

“What you put in your head.”

A hole tore through your entire being as you lingered on the thought, leaving you nothing but an empty shell. Perhaps, this was what he wanted for you all along. Not to be his apprentice nor his daughter. Not when you weren't inheriting something he never planned to let go of. And not when he had let you go, never to bother taking you back again.

Instead, you were only used and thrown aside like a tool. Such a cruel fate it was, but you weren't the only one. The same thing happened to Allen too. And Alfred was about to realize he was not so different from him after all. Not from Allen, and not from you.

“The chip. It was all a lie.”

Someone lived this

Once the three men settled around the dining table, they sat in silence with grim expressions. And there they remained without opening their mouths, with nothing but the faint dripping of a tap to accompany their restless thoughts. Unable to bear suffocating tension, one of them reached into their pocket and pulled out a box of cigarettes. Slotting one between their teeth, they tried turning on a lighter.

While it sparked so stubbornly, the sound alerted the man who sat opposite. He lifted his head with a frown. “Put that shit away, Allen. We're not becoming secondary smokers on top of everything that's happened.” They glanced up for a moment before obliging with a reluctant sigh.

“... Hah...” Digging a hand through his maroon hair, his eyes were downcast as he lost himself in thought. “So what the hell are we supposed to do, then? We didn't think this far ahead.”

Arthur clicked his tongue. “What does it look like we're doing?” He shook his head with a huff before continuing. “Alfred can't stay here forever. If they find out he's still alive, he won't be for long. And we'll all be killed. He has to go.”

Allen stood up and leaned over with a disapproving glare. “Then where is he supposed to go? A motel? Motel-skipping?”

“Anywhere is fine. Just not here.”

The other sat back down to scrape his chair back.

“So we're just gonna let him disappear and do his own thing? He's gonna get himself killed again.” Gritting his teeth at that, he clenched his right fist and slammed it down onto the table. “I'm not letting that son of a bitch die. After all the trouble we went through...” He hung his head while a vein popped around his neck.

“And definitely not cuz' of gramps. That bastard... Can't think for anything but himself and his shitty business.” As he spat out the words potent with hot hatred, the brunette beside Arthur perked up.

“The girl. Isn't she his daughter?” He began in a confused tone. Allen turned to him immediately.

“(F/N) Mizumoto. He's gonna come back for her, won't he? That complicates things...”

The redhead flashed him a mirthless grin.

“You were late to the party, Zao. While you were off growing potatoes--” The said man let out a dissatisfied grunt at that. But before he could interrupt him with ‘synthetic crops for consumption by ungrateful pricks like you’, Allen continued. “--I nearly got my ass killed by the Takahiro Mizumoto. And when she found out, she disowned the shit out of him. So he’ll be leaving her alone alright.”

Speaking of which, Arthur never learned why he was nearly murdered in cold blood. So he asked. And God was he unprepared to hear the answer.

“You never told me why he killed you.” The mechanic mused, though he had a feeling it had something to do with his change of heart. “You were always on board with putting that virus in his head. What made you change your mind?”

The Legend of Ashitaka

Why did he change his mind? Even now, chills ran down Allen's spine when he recalled what his old boss did to Alfred. And it was so despicable, so inhumane, he knew he couldn't do the dirty work for him any longer. “What made me change my mind?” He laughed grimly as a dark frown downturned his features.

“I'll tell you why. You two listen up. And listen good.”

A silence fell around them once again, but it was thick enough to choke them of their air. Arthur's mouth was agape as he was left positively speechless. He tried his damndest to say something, anything, but every word was stuck in his throat.

Zao's eyes were the roundest he'd ever seen. It spoke volumes when he never reacted to anything. Death and gore were as casual of a topic to discuss over breakfast, but this. This was pure insanity.

The anecdote Allen told on behalf of Alfred deserved this much.

It was a struggle between life, death, then death again.

His body was stolen from him, and he was reborn in a synthetic metal copy fifty years later. Alfred was meant to have a life in a by-gone era--half a century ago in the 2020s when times were simpler. More beautiful. It was when the skies were still blue. When millions of stars dotted the night sky. When trees were in abundance along with the creatures they fostered--thousands of species, alive and real.

When you could look into the horizon and see rolling hills, snow-tipped mountains, and endless acres of lush, green forests. But this was all torn from him as mercilessly as his perpetrator. Takahiro. The madman who had the world in his hand.

And Alfred had been in the palm of it until now.

A muffled scream down the hall broke this silence. It was promptly followed by the sharp clang of a chair being thrown.

Goddammit. God damn it all, they cried.

Arthur hung his head and covered his eyes. The brunette beside him folded their arms across the table and buried his face into it. Allen, on the other hand, lit the end of a cigarette. While he puffed it, nobody complained. “And even after all that, he tried to kill him again. And he used her to do it. His own fucking daughter. I'll be damned if she wants to see him again.”

Memory

As the biting truth overwhelmed him, Alfred's face twisted with the utmost terror. Unable to stand on his feet, he plummeted down on the bed. “... So this is how it's gonna be, huh?” Even with his fogged-up mind, he knew exactly why he was so miserable. The reason he was what he was. “I forget everything but what I hate... That son of a bitch.”

He stared down at his trembling hands through his blurry vision. “I want to remember everyone... They were my friends, weren't they?” He bit back a sob when he realized he didn't even know their names.

He couldn't put it past that bastard to do something like this. To deliberately engineer the virus to destroy every single happy memory he ever made. If not, a memory that wasn't agonizing. Perhaps this was his punishment after surviving it. To make him wish he was dead, he would die either way.

No wonder he could remember you--you were always there in his worst moments of despair. When he slowly died from the virus, then tore open his insides for the world to see. Or tied to that chair by a crazy cultist and forced to listen to what they did to you.

Everything else was wiped clean.

All those times when you laughed with him, ate with him, smiled at him. Dreamed with him about even happier times, not realizing it was already there in your grasps. And now, they would never come or return.

Without his memories, he had nothing to push him forward, nor anything to pull him backward. He had come to a complete standstill in his life. And he was stuck here, in the bottom of a bottomless pit with nobody to pull him out.

Say Goodnight

Sandwiched between two grown men over two small mattresses should have been suffocating. But to you, it was comforting. To hear the heartbeats of two friends who should have been dead was all you needed to fall asleep. Allen already did, having spent sleepless nights finding you both. So it was just you and Alfred awake.

With his arms tucked in front of his chest, he stared at you with glassy eyes.

“... Do you hate me?” He asked, the question causing a sharp pang of hurt in your heart. His voice was so sincere, you were left speechless for a few moments.

“... No... Never. I could never hate you.” You sighed out. Reaching out to grip his hand, you hoped to reassure him you were telling him the truth. “Why would you even ask me such a thing?”

Alfred wished he could share your sentiment more than anything in the world. He really did. “Because...” His face scrunched up with an agony so untold, you wished you could look away. “... I just realized I don't even know what you look like when you smile.”

Swallowing the bile in your throat, you pulled him in with a dark glower. And there he remained until he fell asleep. And here you all lay, broken and used like scraps of metal in a junkyard. That sick old man had wronged you all—each circumstance a spitting image of one another. But there was one thing you wouldn’t let him do; to make this the end.

This was to be overcome. After hitting the lowest point, you were all open to the greatest change.

Instant Crush

A week later, you found yourself making brunch for all the late-risers. The Brit was a terrible cook, or so you've heard, so it was a wonder why he had so many herbs and spices at his disposal. “I didn't think Arthur would have this many fresh ingredients,” You mused while inspecting a bunch of basil. “This isn't cheap.”

After handing it to Allen, you sauntered off to explore the other pantries.

Your companion hummed in acknowledgment as he added it to a food processor. “Right? But he's got friends in high places. And when I say high, I mean both definitions.” The man snorted at that. Dropping a bunch of pine nuts and parmesan into the mix, he turned on the appliance for it to purr to life.

“What did you say Zao was again?”

Allen stopped the food processor. “He's a synthetic farmer. Grows everything in hotboxes. Ask him for a plant, and he'll get it for you.” As he eyed you with mischief, you slapped his shoulder. “Hey, I was just giving an example. I mean, everything I eat is a plant.” He waved a leftover stalk to emphasize his point. “Checks out.”

Leaning against the kitchen island he was working on, you folded your arms and watched him. “That wasn't what I was asking. I was wondering how he did this for a living.”

He scraped out the ground-up mixture into a bowl. Without glancing up, he answered. “Ah. The business. He grows stuff for gangs.” You squinted at that, unsure of whether he was messing around or not.

“Is everything that's gonna come out of your mouth a euphemism for weed?” You paused. He looked serious. Unless he picked up on Arthur's deadpan humor, maybe he was honest. So you shook your head to move on. “Sounds like good money. Does he have a farm somewhere?”

“...” Allen stared at you wordlessly and debated whether to drop the joke. “... Yes. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Why?”

You gleamed at him, having figured out his thought process. “If he's willing, I could show him a few secrets. And once he grows enough, we could give some back to the community.” He blinked. As excitement practically lit up your face, he slowly realized what was going on in that brilliant mind of yours. And it showed in a lopsided grin.

“Are you saying you wanna work with him?”

You nodded, much to his content. It was a fleeting idea you've been mulling over ever since Allen mentioned him. Zao seemed like a nice guy, even if you've never properly spoken to him before. The only interactions you had with the guy were curt nods and small talk in the hallway. But like Arthur, he was impossibly busy. And seeing him working all day inspired you to do something productive.

“It was about time he made some friends. Good on ya, doll! Now make me proud and beat him in his own game.”

“I'll certainly try.” You grinned playfully. “I had hands-on practice with the guy who invented it. So if I can't, then he's doing it all wrong.” Making your way to the hall at that, you were about to leave, but not without adding this. “You should do something too, Allen. We weren't designed to sit around to do nothing. As humans, I mean. It's not good for our brains.”

You were about to add especially for us. At the moment, you both were displaced and without a purpose for the same reason. But you saved it. He seemed to get the gist nevertheless, as evident in how his grin faltered. So you pointed to the garage door with an encouraging smile. “If you ask Arthur to let you help him, I'll ask Zao. Deal?”

Allen furrowed his brows as he laughed nervously. Boy, were you a handful. Inside, he was endlessly grateful you were. This conversation only went to show how you were the push he needed to start things. But in this case, he was continuing something he left off. He hadn't touched a wrench in years. Even if he did, it was to fiddle with it.

But that was only one of the plethora of reasons why he was so hesitant. He left him to work for some guy like Matsumoto. And he wasn't about to get into how much he regretted that.

“... Alright, alright. I'll ask Arthur.” Throwing his hands up in defeat, you clapped your hands with delight. As he watched you relish in your victory, his gaze softened into a tender one. Sometimes, it was concerning how easy it was for you to get him to do things.

“That's what I thought. I'm gonna go find him now.” Shuffling off at that, you were startled when you bumped right into Alfred. His eyes were drooping with exhaustion, but the collision was a sufficient wake-up call. “Have a good sleep, sunshine? It's nearly one.”

Allen looked up for a moment before fixating on his bowl. Somehow, hearing you talk to him was enough to get his smile to fade.

“... Yeah. Why didn't you wake me up? I was lonely when I realized I was by myself.” His lips stretched into a tired grin. “I'm just kidding.”

“I tried, but you're like a log. Just don't worry about sleeping in. You need the rest.”

Alfred huffed at that. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't argue with you. It wasn't so much his body that needed recuperating--it was his mind. And he had faith in his recovery so long as you were around. This seemed to manifest into reality as you took his face into your hands. “You don't have to baby me.” He grumbled with rosy cheeks.

“I'm not babying you, idiot. Did you want me to be rude instead?”

“No.”

The other man in the room was watching the whole interaction. He was too distracted by Alfred's presence to continue cooking and stopped moving altogether. That only let him see the change in his complexion clear as day. The sight was all he needed to confirm it.

He was asking for a fight.

Alfred may have been a friend, someone he was grateful to for saving his life. And he returned the favor. So they were on equal terms for it, their rocky past together forgiven. But he'd be damned if Alfred thought he was the only one. He never was.

[lichlover]

magnus and kaylen used to be friends, once

Wild things, the town called them, like they were less young men than specters of nature, tearing through the streets in a whirlwind and only stopping to help old Serafine when she dropped her groceries at the curb. Kalen used to say it was the only reason Raven’s Roost hadn’t kicked them clear of the Corridor: they could do as much good as they could wreak havoc, and besides, Magnus cared too deeply for the Waxmens’ reputation. Wild things, and more occasionally, according to old Serafine, good boys. Boys who could do a little bit of growing up when the situation called for it—or when Julia Waxmen was in the vicinity, and Magnus dropped everything to lift someone’s cargo clear off the ground.

The week before Tavers dies, Kalen has dirt under his fingernails. They’d agreed to sweep the sidewalk in front of Par Teller’s shop after a stint with Kalen’s newest innovation—ground-spice graffiti, an idea that had them both delirious with mischief until Magnus had accidentally tipped a barrel of paprika over the threshold. Now the sun has started to dip beneath the furthest pillar, and spills in liquid gold around the cliffs. Their shadows stretch and rib across the cobblestones next to the spindly bodies of Teller’s brooms.

“God, he was pissed.” Magnus cracks a grin as he brushes paprika into the gutter. “I couldn’t tell if his face was red because of that, or, y’know.”

Kalen grips his broom mid-handle and raises it up like a crotchety old man’s walking stick, and Magnus laughs; the hearty, chest-deep laugh Kalen is so good at bringing out in him. “You kids must think you’re real cute!”

“You heard what he said? Something about, like, we oughta be in politics because of how quick we are to wanna solve the problems we caused. Kind of a low blow, right? It wasn’t just me?”

“Mm.” The broom’s bristles hit the street, and Kalen blinks into the sunset. “Nah. I mean, he’s got a point.”

Magnus laughs again. “That we’d make good politicians? You’re fuckin’ kidding me.”

“No, really. You’re always going on about wanting to help people.” He’s serious, Magnus realizes. There’s no twist to the corner of his mouth; no telltale crinkle at his left eye. “Solving everybody’s problems. Isn’t that what a politician does?”

“You seriously wanna be like Old Man Tavers? Farting around in some giant ritzy house while everybody else lives and works and does stuff?”

“Who says a politician has to fart around?” Kalen twirls the broom and strikes it against the curb, and a tiny cloud of paprika drifts into the air. “We could be different. We could get out and do stuff. Solve everybody’s problems for them.”

Magnus blinks. “You’d really wanna do that?”

“I dunno. It’d be making a difference. Making our mark on this town without pissing everybody off for once.”

“Well, okay, yeah, sure, it’d be nice to have people singing our praises. But we don’t have to go into politics to make that happen. You’d die of boredom, Kalen.” Magnus reaches over to tap him on the head with his broom, and Kalen smiles, but it looks halfhearted. “C’mon.”

“Singing our praises,” is all Kalen says. “You think?”

“I think you got paprika in your ear and it’s infecting your brain. Are you gonna help me with this, or what?”

The word is that Tavers dies in his sleep. He’d entered his twilight years an apparent lifetime ago, and issued decrees with a papery voice that gave way under the ghost of a breeze, and so although no one dares voice it allowed, a certain peace settles over Raven’s Roost after the memorial. The People’s Council sets the vote for a week later, and Magnus cracks a joke about anarchy around the dinner table, but nothing changes, really. He still works sandpaper over his latest attempt at a coat rack for the first half of the morning, and then he meets Kalen in the square, for fruit tarts from the girl who blushes and shrinks under Kalen’s wicked grin.

They split a tart—mango-strawberry—and go to sit by the fountain. Today, the banners that twine around the street lamps are a somber black, but they’re all that remain of the services from the day before. Kalen is kinetic. He shifts on the fountain’s finely hewn edge and grinds his teeth and taps his foot, and the dark circles rimming his eyes are fresh and deep. His half of the tart sits unacknowledged and untouched.

“Uh,” says Magnus. “You gonna eat that, or…”

Kalen doesn’t seem to hear him. “I have this idea,” he says. “I’ve been thinking about it since Teller’s.”

“Okay, shoot. Can I have your half if you’re not gonna have it?”

He tosses the half distractedly to Magnus and sits back on his hands. “What if I ran for Governor?”

Magnus chokes on his first bite. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me just fine. I want to run for Governor. Tavers was old,” says Kalen, “and he didn’t know the people, and everybody the Council nominates, they’re just gonna be the same. Somebody who sits up in that ritzy old house and farts around. No. The people need a man of action.”

“A man of action?” Magnus echoes, through a mouthful of tart. “Do you hear yourself?”

“Am I wrong, though?” He looks at Magnus with a familiar fire; the same spark of resolve that ignites at the thought of a brand-new scheme to pass the time. But Kalen seems different. Righteous. Hungry. “Do you really want another old crat in power? Or would you want somebody who knows what your favorite flavor of tart is? Somebody who knows it’s worth skipping the end of the workday to catch the sunset over Craftsman’s Corridor? Somebody who gets you?”

“But you think you could get voted in? How would that even work?”

“I’ll campaign,” says Kalen. “I’ll campaign this whole week, and you’ll help me.”

“Well—now hang on—”

“And if it doesn’t work, we can say we tried.” He swings his foot against the fountain and tips his head to the sun. “But I’ve got a feeling about this. C’mon. Have my instincts ever steered you wrong?”

“Uh, yeah,” Magnus says, incredulously. “So many times.”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to trust me on this.” Kalen sits up and turns to meet Magnus’s eyes, and suddenly Magnus understands, better than before, what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that stare. He’d give this man a strawberry-mango tart, he thinks. He’d give this man anything he thinks he deserves, because there’s something about that stare that makes him surer of himself than he’s ever been. “So are you with me?”

The campaign is really less of a campaign and more of a week spent going door-to-door, but Magnus is surprised to find that excluding the odd, scorned shopkeep that locked the doors and shuttered the windows at the sight of them, the people of Raven’s Roost seem intrigued by Kalen’s proposal. Dylan Stokes offers them his cargo wagon. Ruby Sheppard brings her wife and daughters out to the porch to hear Kalen talk about his plans for the town. Julia Waxmen stops by on her way from the Corridor, and she spends one afternoon helping them hang crudely sketched posters and embellishing them with her own elegant cursive. Magnus trips over his own feet more than once, and definitely has to interrupt Kalen mid-suggestive comment, but Julia just gives him a smile that warms him from the inside out and slaps the next poster across an open wall.

By the end of the week, there isn’t a soul in Raven’s Roost that doesn’t know about Kalen’s bid for governor. One sunset finds Magnus and Kalen traipsing up to the enforcers’ outpost, loaded down with strawberry-mango tarts and winning smiles, and the enforcer on duty greets them in the friendliest encounter Magnus has ever had with law enforcement. “Allan’s boy,” he says to Kalen, and then, to Magnus, “the junior craftsman. Strange pair, to want to run the town.”

“Ambition doesn’t pick and choose, sir,” says Kalen, and the enforcer grins.

He takes Magnus and Kalen up the stairs and into the outpost, where a team of tired-looking enforcers swarm eagerly around their the bags of pastries. Magnus stands back and lets Kalen talk, exchanging handshakes and more winning smiles; he’d had no idea how silver-tongued his friend really is. Plying them with food helps, he’s sure. But Kalen has a charisma about him that he’d only seen in fragments before.

They sit around and eat as the sun sinks beneath the horizon, and Kalen is drawn into conversation with the enforcer that had met them at the door. Magnus sits nearby, turning his ear lazily to their voices; he’s started to feel thick and heavy in the haze of late evening, and with the crumbs of two strawberry-mango tarts dotting his shirt.

“Y’know, Tavers,” the enforcer is saying, “he behaved the same as all these politicians do. Always hesitant to bring out the big guns. Like they refuse to even acknowledge that Raven’s Roost has a militia. Why would you have a militia if you never intended to use it? What’s the point?”

“You’d be a powerful ally to anyone,” says Kalen, in that smooth diplomat’s voice. “Tavers was a fool to not realize that.”

“Exactly,” the enforcer says, and leans in. Magnus strains his ear a little harder as he says, “Any candidate we back, they’re gonna be grateful for that kind of sway. It’s just a matter of trusting that that candidate isn’t gonna shelf us. You know what I mean?”

Kalen smiles. “I can’t speak for the Council’s decision. But I always thought Raven’s Roost would benefit from the militia’s involvement.”

“Hah. You and I,” says the enforcer, “I think we’re gonna get along just fine.”

He grins, sharp and polished, and Kalen matches it with one of his own. Something cold and heavy drops in the pit of Magnus’s stomach.

They leave the enforcers just before midnight, and Kalen practically waltzes down the path, light on his feet and the promise of victory. “I think that went great,” he says, airily. “Really great. Don’t you?”

Magnus doesn’t respond. The freezing knot of uncertainty in his gut has started to melt into tiny shards of ice.

“Magnus.” Kalen swings around and gives him a look. “You okay? In a food coma already?”

“What’d you say to that enforcer guy?”

“What do you mean?” His tone is light, but the lighthearted twist to his mouth drops away. “We were just talking.”

“You said you wanted to get the militia more involved here. In Raven’s Roost. What does that mean?”

“It’s just some bullshit to get the votes,” says Kalen. “What do you care?”

“I dunno,” Magnus says, “but that sounds bad? Like, bad bad. Like martial law bad. Why’d you lie to them?”

“I didn’t lie.”

“You said it was bullshit.”

“It was.” Kalen’s eyes flash in the low light. “I’m not gonna let them go marching through the streets collecting taxes, or whatever the fuck. But I’ll find some way to keep my promise. Who knows? Maybe people could use a stricter rule around here.”

Magnus laughs incredulously, but breaks off when Kalen doesn’t join him. “You gotta be kidding me. Stricter rule? Who are you?”

“Hey, all I’m saying is that this is the town that let us run around and do whatever the hell we wanted.” Kalen shrugs. “Maybe that’s not a good thing.”

“Maybe not, but there’s a difference between being a stupid kid and martial fucking law.”

“I never said shit about martial law!” He rounds on his heel, and Magnus nearly takes a step back. “Will you shut up already! It’s politics! We make some bullshit promises we never intend on keeping, we do some smiling and waving, and then the people sing our praises. Isn’t that what you wanted? Isn’t this—” He gestures around them, like the campaign hangs over them like a shroud— “exactly what we talked about?”

Anger ignites in Magnus like a flame. “I’m not a politician,” he snipes. “I agreed to help you and that’s it. And if you’re gonna act like a dick, I’m not sure I wanna help you at all!”

Kalen scoffs. “Like I need you. All you’ve done is sit on your ass and get all moonstruck around Julia Waxmen.”

“Don’t fucking talk about her.”

“You’re taking all this way too personally,” he says, and his voice is uncharacteristically cold. “Who cares if we tell a couple white lies? Who cares if we shake things up a little? God knows this fucking town could do with something new. Everything’s old, and dried up, just like Tavers was. They need us. They need me. The only reason you can’t see that is because your head’s so far up Steven’s ass—”

Magnus punches him. Kalen wheezes and collapses on his back in a cloud of dust, and for a second, he’s sure that he’s made a horrible mistake.

Then Kalen wipes at a trickle of blood at his chin and spits, “Knew it. I fucking knew it.”

“Shut up,” Magnus snaps. He can’t formulate another retort over the ringing in his ears, so he steps past Kalen and storms down the path, and his heart throbs against the web of ice in his chest the whole way.

Ed Barrister is the Council’s replacement, and he doesn’t stand a chance. At the first and only debate on the rickety stage in the town square, he scrapes and mumbles as Kalen waxes lyrical on his plans for Raven’s Roost and his love for the people, to uproarious applause. He’s sworn in by the end of the day. His family’s house stands empty by nightfall. Magnus watches as the cargo wagon rumbles up the trail to Tavers’ old house, a copper-studded behemoth larger than every workshop in Craftsman’s Corridor combined.

He finds Kalen thanking people at the polling center and joins the line, behind an elderly woman clutching one of Julia’s posters. When Kalen sees him, he sets his jaw in a polite, closed-lip smile, and grips Magnus’s hand a little too tightly.

“We did good,” he says. “Didn’t we?”

“Tavers’ house, huh?”

“My father insisted. It’s supposed to be gracious.”

“As long as you don’t just fart around.”

The tension between them caves, just a little. A near-earnest grin flashes across Kalen’s face.

“Couldn’t’ve done it without you,” he says. “Honestly.”

“This is fucking crazy, Kalen.”

“It will be, for a little while. But I think I could really make something of this town. The people still like me.” He nudges Magnus’s shoulder and says, “I think you do, too.”

“If you really want to make a difference,” says Magnus, “you’ve only got a couple years to do it. Better make ’em count, huh?”

“A couple years?”

“That’s the law.”

Kalen shrugs. “Laws change.”

“Not those ones.”

“For now,” he says, and shakes Magnus’s hand. “I won’t forget you, y’know.”

Magnus smiles over the shard of ice sticking in his stomach. “Nah. ’Course not. I won’t let you.”

[aerynwrites]

Liberation - V

Chapter 5: The Moral Dilemma

Author’s Note: Yay, here’s part 5! I’m so sorry for the wait on this chapter, I was just really really motivated to write requests and stuff so i was busy with those and I’m not back in college so unfortunately that takes some precedent over my writing (boooo). So, just to keep y’all in the know I am probably going to only be updating Liberation once a week with a couple request thrown in there between chapter postings! I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience at all, I just feel like this is what will work best. Thank you for understanding and i hope you enjoy the new chapter! as usual i love hearing from you all! <3

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: mentions of death, battle, cursing.

Chapters: Prologue, One, Two, Three, Four, Five (here), Six, Seven, Eight

/////

You and Mando entered the Nevarro cantina, immediately drawing the attention of every patron in the establishment. You were still not used to the attention of running around with a Mandalorian, let alone the attention you received from being with a Mandalorian covered in beskar. You both received many glares and stares of awe as a deafening hush fell over the room as you and Mando headed for Greef, who was sat in his usual booth.

He seemed to finally notice the shift in the atmosphere and looked up from his drink, a wide smile adorning his face when he saw the two of you approaching.

“Ah, Mando, (Y/N)!” he lets out a low chuckle as you both finally come to stand next to the table, “They all hate you because you both are legends!” he boasts proudly.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest as Mando speaks, “How many of them had tracking fobs?”

He scoffs and gestures around the bar, “All of them. All of them! But not one of them closed the deal. Only you guys, only you.”

“yeah?” you bite, “At what cost?”

Greef looks to you and gestures to you and Mando, “Well it seems the cost was not so great, as you both are standing here with the richest reward the parsec has ever seen.” He points to the seats across from him and sit back in his seat slightly, “Please sit, my friends.”

Mando unclips his rifle from his back and sits, motioning for you to do the same. You follow his lead and sit, rather snuggly, in the booth with him. You see Greef look at Mando momentarily before Side eyeing the other patrons.

“They’re weighing all that beskar in their minds, but not me. No. I, for one, celebrate your success. Because it is my success as well. Hell, even I’m rich!” he proceeds to flash you both three bars of beskar before hiding them once more, “Now, how can I show my gratitude to my most valuable partners?”

Your mouth tugs into a frown at his words. Just a few days ago he hated you, and now you were one of his most valuable partners? You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“I want my next job.” Mando deadpans.

You look over to him in shock, “Mando what the hell I thought-“

A quick jab in your side and a quick tilt of his helmet shuts you up, mouth snapping shut so hard your teeth click. So, this was part of his plan it seems.

“Next job?” Greef asks incredulously, “Take some time off. Enjoy yourself!” Greef gestures behind him vaguely, “I’ll take you to the Twi’lek healing baths,” he says suggestively.

Your face twists up in disgust, “You know I’m still here right? Ew.”

Greef casts you a somewhat annoyed look but Mando speaks up before he can say anything, “We want out next job.” He reiterates.

“Sure. Fine.” Greef relents, “You hunter’s like to keep busy. Right?” he pulls a sack from beside him and dumps out some pucks, “Well, these are all far away.”

“The further the better,” Mando says.

“Well take your pick, you’ve earned it.” Greef responds, crossing his arms.

You watch as Mando picks up a puck and sets it on the table watching as it flickers to life.

“Ahh,” Greef sighs, “That’s the best of the lot. A nobleman’s son skipped bail,” he chuckles, “Looks like you’re headed to the ocean dunes of Karnac.”

Mando swiped the puck from the table, turning it off, and nudges you slightly, motioning you out of the booth. You do as he says and stand wait for him to grab his rifle before he stands as well, turning to leave. You go to follow but almost run into him as he stops short.

“Any idea what they’re gonna do with it?” He asks.

“With what?” Greef asks.

Mando finally turns back to face Karga, and you move out of his way to stand beside him, “The kid,” you clarify.

Greef sighs, “I didn’t ask. It’s against the guild code.”

“They work for the empire,” Mando’s voices is a bit more convicted now, “What are they doing here?”

“The empire is gone Mando.” he stands straighter at this, “All that are left, are mercenaries and warlords. But, if it bothers you, go back to the core and report it to the New Republic.”

You huff, “That’s a joke.”

Greef ignores your comment and looks to Mando again, “Mando, enjoy your rewards. Buy a camtono of spice,” he suggests, “By the time you come out of hyper drive, you will have forgotten all about it.”

Mando says nothing as he turns and walks to the door, you follow behind him. you continue to follow him but are increasingly confused as you see the razor crest come into view.

“What are we doing?” you ask as you both reach the ship and board it, “I thought we were going to get the kid.” You argued as Mando sits in the pilot’s seat and fires up the ship, ignoring you.

“Hey, hey!” you grasp his shoulder roughly and force him to face you, “you said we were going to get the kid, so what the hell is going on!” you demand.

Mando shrugs your hand from his shoulder and turns to face the front once more, “Karga was right. It’s against guild code. We can’t do anything.”

You watch in stunned silence as he continues to fiddle with the controls and you feel a small lump form in your throat as you see him reach for a lever, only to see that the small silver ball is missing. And memories of the small child playing with said silver ball flash through your mind. You shake your head as you see Mando hesitant slightly before screwing the ball back on slowly.

“Well, I’m not going to sit here and do nothing,” you said, “I’m going to go and try and do something to make this right. With or without you.”

You turn on you heel, your cloak fluttering behind you, frustration boiling up in as you move to exit the ship. But before you can even press the button to lower the ramp you hear the engines whine to a stop and the ramp opens before you. your eyes widen slightly, and you look to your left seeing Mando step to stand beside you.

“Let’s go make this right.”

You feel the corner of your mouth tug up in a half smile as you both walk down the ramp towards your new mission.

* * *

You follow Mando as you approach the alley the clients building is situated in. As you both walk down the alley, you see Mando slow to a stop next to a dumpster and peer in. you peak a glance over his shoulder and you feel your heart sink as you spot the all too familiar bassinet laying discarded in the trash. Mando stares at the object for a moment, before straightening up and you can almost feel the resolve and anger roll off of him. The next thing you know you both are perched on a rooftop adjacent to the client’s hideout and Mando as scanning the building. You sit in silence next to him as he adjusts various things in his helmet and gun before standing once more and walking back down to the ground.

“Did you find anything?” you asked curiously as you followed behind him.

“They want something from the kid, not sure what. And it sounds like they are running out of time.” He explains simply.

“Well we won’t let them take him.” You say firmly as you both approached the client’s door.

You watch as Mando knocks firmly on the door before stepping back. A small camera mechanism burst from a small hatch in the wall and you immediately grab in in your hand and rip it off before swiftly following Mando and taking cover behind the corner.

You hear a pair of Storm troopers exit the building, “Search the perimeter,” one of them orders.

You stay in your place and watch from the corner of your eye as Mando places a small explosive device on the wall and returns to you to take cover as a deafening explosion grant you both access to the facility. You quickly move towards the gaping hole in the wall and enter the building before taking cover behind some crates.

Another set of troopers enter the room and hastily search the area, not seeing either of you as they pass your hiding spot to observe the damage. Then, as their backs are to you, you and Mando each fire a blaster shot into the troopers, killing them.

“’The empire’s dead’, my ass,” you mutter as you both exit the room and move deeper into the building.

You come upon another guard, and Mando quickly dispatches of him with his grappling hook, driving his blade into his neck. You move over to a locked door and shoot the panel to the left of the door, opening it. You just barley manage to block a blaster shot from the trooper within, by raising your beskar clad arm in front of your face. You quickly shoot him before looking at your arm guard an impressed look on your face and cast a quick glance to Mando.

“This stuff is the shit!” you exclaim excitedly.

Mando just nods and moves past you to the next door, “Don’t mention it.”

He shoots the next panel and you both enter the next room, and you immediately recognize Doctor Pershing, as he cowers against the medical bed hands held in front of his face.

“No, no, no, please!” he cries, “Please, no no!” he cowers even further as Mando points his blaster in his direction before shooting an advancing security droid from the air.

You both have your blasters pointed at the flustered doctor, but he continues to block the medical bed, “No please, please don’t hurt him. it’s just a child.” He pleads.

Mando ignores his cries for mercy and steps forward shoving him to the side as you move to look at the child. He was in some sort of machine, various monitors displaying different symbols and numbers. The child seemed to be unconscious. You saw Mando look over the child as well, before you moved around him, pointing your blaster furiously at the Doctor now lying on the floor.

“What did you do to him?” you spit, “What did you do?” you wanted to shoot him right then and there.

But the doctor held up his hand, “I protected him! I protected him. if it wasn’t for me, he’d already be dead!” he defended, “Please, please.”

You lowered your blaster and took a step back looking from the whimpering man back to Mando. He just nods to you and you take that as you’re cue. You move to grab the child, gently cradling him in your arms and follow Mando out of the room, leaving the doctor behind.

You have your blaster raised ready to fire of necessary, and you watch carefully as Mando too has his blaster ready. You enter another room and quickly duck behind a pile of crates as two troopers enter the room. You wait until they leave through the other door and leave your hiding place continuing your path to the exit. You enter the next room and see two more imps enter through the door and you try to hide once more but you must’ve hit something electrical because it causes a spark to ring out in the room and alerted them to your presence.

“Look there!” one of them called, firing a few blaster shots in your direction.

You both ducked to the side dodging them and moving further into the room to hide.

“split up,” one of the troopers command, “We’ll flush ‘em out.” As they start to approach your position you both move silently a few more feet away.

“Give it up! there’s nowhere to-“ Before the trooper can finish Mando bursts from the shadows and dispatches him quickly before moving to the next just as fast. It was over in the millisecond it took you to blink and you were moving out of the room and into the next once more.

You spot a trooper coming out of a door to your left and you turn to fire a blaster shot at him, landing the shot squarely in the chest. You hear Mando turn to attack a different trooper who had entered the room and cringe slightly at the immense heat that comes from the flames of his bracer. You hear the agonizing screams of the trooper only momentarily before he too falls to the ground. A small coo coming from the bundle in your arms causes you to finally look at the child. And you smile when you see his large bright eyes looks up at you. You don’t have time to dwell on the fact before Mando motions to you.

“Come on, we need to move.”

You nod your head curtly and swallow thickly. You had a bad feeling about how this whole thing was going to end. You follow behind him as you enter a rather large room and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. But before you can warn Mando the doors on each wall open and four troopers enter the room, blasters aimed directly at you.

“Freeze!” one of them commands, “Don’t move!”

“Hands up and drop the blasters!” another one yells.

“Wait!” Mando says, raising his blaster in a surrendering manner, “What she’s holding is very valuable,” Mando informs, crouching lower to the ground, “Here.” He sets his blaster on the ground and stays crouching.

“Mando what the hell?” you whisper, blaster still raised.

“Just do it.”

You cast him a questioning glance, but you relent and slowly move to crouch next to him, setting your blaster and the child on the ground in front of you. The troopers bite out another command, but you can’t hear it over the blood rushing in your ears. You cast a glance at Mando and see a mechanism on his arm guard open up revealing several small blue glowing lights. Before you could figure out what they were Mando pressed a button and four of them shot from his forearm and soared through the air, hitting and killing the troopers around you.

You look over to him, shock clear on your face, “What were those?? Have you always had those?” you question.

“New upgrade.” He says simply.

And before you can question him further, he is grabbing his blaster and standing to his feet. You follow his lead and scoop up the child and your weapon and follow him out of the base and into the evening air of Nevarro. You both walk quickly, but calmly towards the front of the town, you are whispering quiet reassurances to yourself.

“Just stay calm, act calm, and no one will notice anything,” you whisper, “Just act natural. And everything will be fine.”

“What are you doing?” Mando asked, annoyance dripping from his words.

You glance up at him before looking back down to the child rubbing a finger along his forehead gently, “I’m speaking our success into existence,” you say, “and also trying to calm myself down.” You explain nervously, pushing past the lump in your throat.

But as you come closer and closer to the town square you are increasingly aware of the several bodies following you, then finally surrounding you as you both step foot into the large empty area of the town. The incessant beeping of tracking fobs filling the night air.

“You were saying?” Mando says bitterly.

You glance from all of the bounty hunters surrounding you to the front of the square and narrow your eyes as you see Greef Karga step out from behind a crate hand on his weapon.

“Welcome back, you two!” he greets with fake enthusiasm, “Now put the package down.”

Mando’s hand hovers over his weapon, and so does your as he speaks, “Step aside. We’re going to my ship.”

Greef lets out a quiet chuckle, “Put the bounty down, and perhaps I’ll let you pass.”

“The kid’s coming with us.” You say, taking a threatening step forward.

“If you really care about the kid, then you’ll put it on the speeder,” He points to the droid run speeder and you and Mando glance at it quickly, “Then we’ll discuss terms.”

“How do we know we can trust you?” you ask skeptically.

Greef scoffs, “Because I’m your only hope.”

You look to Mando for guidance on what to do. Was he going to make you give the child up? after all you had done to save him? he doesn’t do anything for a moment before he jerks his head in the direction of the speeder. You nod curtly, and you both walk over to the speeder with the child. You both still as you reach the machine and you cast a glance at the child in your arms, eyes closed and blissfully unaware of the danger you all were in. You cast another glance to the Mandalorian next to you before glancing discreetly at the bounty hunters close to you then to the speeder. Mando tilted his head slightly, seemingly confused. You sighed inwardly, for a bounty hunter he was really bad at reading cues. So, you glanced at the hunters nearest to you again and then pointed minutely to the empty space in the speeder. He seemed to understand what you were saying and nodded. Before anyone realized what was happening, Mando fire off two shots, killing the two hunters closest two you and then the both of you flipped over the side of the speeder and behind cover. Blaster fire filled the air as they fired back at you. Mando had landed slightly on top of you in your hasty attempt for cover and you struggled against him.

“Mando-“ you gasped, “You’re crushing me.”

You hear him mutter an apology before rolling off you and you fire back at the other bounty hunters wile Mando threatens the droid into driving the speeder out of the chaos. You keep the child tucked under you safe from any stray blaster bolts and continue to fire back against them alongside Mando as the speeder moved through the square. You and Mando both landed many successful hits against them but were suddenly thrown forward as a well-aimed hit from Greef made the speeder come crashing to a halt. Silence filled the air and you saw the remaining hunters close in on the speeder. You looked down at the child who, was now awake, and cast a worried glance to Mando.

“What are we going to do?” you whisper, fear lacing your words.

Mando says nothing as he pulls his rifle from his back and aims carefully. He pulls the trigger, the sound of the gun going off deafening in the silent square. He manages to take out four more hunters before they are all behind cover, and Greef speaks up once more.

“That’s one impressive weapon,” he calls out.

Mando lowers his weapon slightly, “Here’s what I’m going to do,” he begins, “We’re going to walk to my ship, with the kid, and you’re going to let it happen.”

“No,” Greef responds, “How about this? We take the kid, and if you try to stop us, we kill you and strip your body for parts.”

As Karga stops his spiel, you notice a figure sneaking up on the speeder. You quickly kick a barrel close to you, stunning the figure before raising up and firing your blaster. Your action causes all hell to break loose as everyone in the square opens fire onto you and Mando. You instinctively curl back around the child and try to fire shots off. You hear the tell-tale sound of Mando’s flames erupt beside you followed by exclamations of surprise around you. you feel your heart sink as the machine splutters to a stop and blaster fire continues to rain down upon you. You see Mando drop down next to you and he stares at you and the child, and he seems to deflate. In that moment you realize that he doesn’t have annoy other ideas. You watch as he stares down at the child between the both of you, and a little coo erupts from his mouth. You feel your hand tighten around the small bundle and you look at Mando, a defeated look in your eyes.

“We tried,” you said, voice loud to be heard over the blaster fire, “That’s all we could do.”

Mando doesn’t respond so you continue, “Thank you, for going back for him.”

You can feel tears burn at the back of your vision at the hopelessness of the situation, and you have to blink them away. You see Mando reach a hand out for the child pulling the cloth down to look at him. you thought he was going to say something, but before you could find out for sure, a high-pitched whistling accompanied by a bright light caught everyone’s attention. You watch as a projectile flew over your heads and into a figure standing on a roof several yards away. You look to Mando, eyes wide, before casting your eyes back to the sky only to see a large group of Mandalorians flying into the square and firing on your attacker. You watch in complete awe as the Mandalorians proceed to almost completely wipe out the threat. Mando also returns fire, and so do you before a Heavy Infantry Mandalorian lands a few feet from you, gun firing rapidly.

“Go, get out of here!” he instructs, “We’ll hold them off.”

Mando stops shooting to look at his comrade, “You’re going to have to relocate the covert.” He calls back.

“This is The Way.” Is all he offers.

“This is The Way.” Mando repeats, before grabbing your arm and hauling you off the speeder and to your feet.

He takes the child from your arms and you offer no complaint as you both sprint towards the razor crest, the sounds of battle fading behind you. You see Mando slow to a job in front of you and followed his lead, a few paces behind him as he enters the ship. You both failed to notice the figure climbing down the ladder behind you. You were only aware of it when their boots hit the ground and you whirled around drawing your blaster. But before you can fire off a shot a rough hit to your temple sends you crumpling to the ground, and Mando quickly turns to face your attacker.

“Hold it, Mando.” Greef’s voice fills the hull of the ship, and you groan as you try to sit up right.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” Karga says, “But then you broke the code. And you-“ he gestures to you now, still on the ground trying to get your vision to stop swimming, “I knew you were trouble from the start. And I told you to stay away, but you didn’t listen.” He seethes.

Mando says nothing, his head just tilts down slightly to look at you before he raises his arm in front of him. Greef tenses at the movement but cannot react before Mando’s grappling device fires into a nearby panel and fills the room with steam. You cover your eyes instinctively and Greef fires blindly into the ship. He stops firing, looking for the Mandalorian, but a well-aimed blaster bolt hits him in the chest and sends him stumbling from the ship and falling onto the ground. Mando closes the ship doors as you stand up slowly, stumbling slightly.

“Are you alright?” Mando’s voice cuts through the silence and he lays a steadying hand on your upper arm.

You nod your head and give him a warm smile, rubbing your temple, “Yeah I’ll be fine. He just surprised me is all.” You reassure.

Mando just nods, and climb up the ladder to the cockpit, you follow closely behind. You take the child from his grasp as he takes the pilots chair, and you sit in the chair to his right, the child in your lap.

The ship lifts off the ground in into the air, past the clouds. You look out the window, watching the setting sun and let out a quiet gasp when the figure of a Mandalorian pull sup next to your ship.

“Mando look!” you slap his arm frantically while waving at the Mandalorian out the window, a silent way of saying thank you.

The Mandalorian gives you and Mando a two fingered salute before pulling away and back to the ground. You let out an amused chuckle and sat back in your chair.

“I have got to get one of those,” Mando murmurs.

You let out a loud laugh at this and nod your head, arms wrapping securely around the child in your lap, “Yes you do. That would so cool!”

You look down at the child as he wriggles in your grasp, reaching his little three-digit hand out in front of him. you follow his line of sight and a smile tugs at the corner of your lips when you see what he wants.

“Uh Mando.”

He hums in response, and you just hold out the child in front of you, so he is closer to the lever, “I think the little guy wants something.” You say amusedly.

Mando’s helmet turns to the side until he is looking at the child, grasping for the small metal ball on the lever. You watch curiously as the usually stoic and seemingly uncaring Mandalorian unscrews the little ball and carefully drops it into the child’s hand. The kid lets out a happy giggle and turns the ball over in his hand, as you pull him back into your lap.

“I think the kid’s making you soft Mando,” you tease as you leave the planet’s atmosphere.

Mando just shook his head as he continued looking forward, fully aware that it wasn’t just the kid who had an impact on his life. You did too. 

////

Liberation Tag: @therobinathome @lirinchi​ @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8​ @fucking-dip-shit​ @maryan028​ @s0yboy69 @c1996 @notmyspaghetti​ @humbleseame​ @peter-psrker​ @riddlersfate​ @fandoms-equal-my-life​ @kaialisonflame​ @goth-pigeon​ @hollybee0987​ @izdevett @witheringblooddemon​ @katelicon​ @sparrows-books​ @twofacedbassy​ @hnerals @crazy-obsessed-fangirl​ @eternallyvenus​ @lewismerryweather​

Mandalorian Tag: @tryn25​ @igotmadskills​ @dizzydazed​ @theforceofdisney​ @jeepangel​ @maryan028​ @Mandalorian-theway

Permanent Tag: @fleurdemiel145​ @lord-wolfgen @petalduck​

[saokpe]

HDLW Sibling Week 2020 - Day 7: Free Day!

Well guys, we finally made it to the end! This has been one hell of a week, definitely in my personal life, but even more so here! The mods at the HDLW Sibling Week tumblr have been amazing this week, I can't give them enough praise for both their choice of prompts and their support of the various artists that participated in this event! Artist's submissions that you can see reblogged over at their tumblr blog @hdlwsiblingweek2020, so please give those a look if you haven't already. I am also eternally grateful for the positive response these fics have gotten, it really was what kept me going throughout these hectic collection days. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you!

This final fic is definitely my most ambitious of the week, hence why it took all seven days to work on and is being posted a couple hours later than usual (sorry!). A story meant to make reference to all of my previous HDLW Sibling Week fics but also work as a stand alone story of sacrifice and action! I love how it turned out, I hope you all do as well! (Sorry for the long message, please enjoy...)

A Drawn Out War

My feet slam and echo across the hollow chambers of the remains of McDuck manor. I clutch my weapons between my fingers, its sharp edges scratching along my already weathered and distraught palm. My clothes torn, my pristine pale face vandalized with the war paint my quivering expression wore. My feet keep moving, the nagging voice at the back of my head begging me to surrender, my resolve not allowing that cowardice to take over. She could be anywhere, yes, ready to pounce, ready to relieve me of this stress I allowed myself to carry, ready to aim her barrel between my eyes and allow me bliss. I don’t want bliss.

The wooden hallways I stalked threatens to turn, a sudden panic overtaking me as the idea of what hid at the other end drenched me. “I wonder if my brothers are still in the game?” My head cruelly asks, the thought dragging every step I attempt to take. I reach the hallway’s turn, the corner of my eye catching an odd construct. The continuing alleyway housed not tensed air but instead an elongated line of walls made completely out of blankets. My curious gaze is promptly stolen from me, however, as the moment I reach the odd monument’s presence, my leg is clutched. The fear from before returns to me like the shots I have so cautiously tried to avoid, the creature which held me knocking me over and dragging me to the now horrifying display of incorrectly used bedspreads. Darkness finds me, my heartbeat slamming over my chest with the power of the gun I loosely dragged with me. As my body finally halts, taking my bearings, like a cornered animal, I begin to shoot wildly.

Foam hitting cloth bangs the pitch black room, the sound of life grunting and ducking the only other element attracting my senses. Soon the ammunition halts, the clicking of an empty magazine the only thing my weapons shoots. 

My heavy panting fills the silence, soon the sound of a match lighting and the bright flame it produces return my sight. My distressed eyes look across, seeing the multicolored walls decorated crudely with the bright orange bullets I dispensed. I continue to dart, looking for who my captors may be, seeing two uncannily familiar faces looking back. Both sharing the look of blood curdling adrenaline as I, Louie and Huey stare down at my prone body.

“HUEY! LOUIE!” I bolt back, clutching them between my aching arms. The little strength afforded to me wasted as I revel in the long lost warmth of my brothers. “I thought you two for gonners after what happened at the kitchen!”

“Almost but,” Huey begins, stopping as he drags his candle closer to my sullied face, “-it seems we all survived.” A well deserved smile stretches over him.

I part from my re-discovered family, “Where are we?”`

“Cushion Island.” Louie, a tang of grizzled seriousness, answers. “After she separated us, I started reconstructing it as a safe haven, taking a new design philosophy into consideration. We’ve been hiding out in here for a while, amassing enough resources to be able to fight back. Looking for you as well.” The kid shares a knowing glare with his eldest twin. 

“I’m just happy Webb-” I attempt to, in my newly found excitement, say before finding a hand forcefully placed over my beak. Looking over to where the arm originates, I see Louie, still not dropping the solemn urgency in his gaze, tilting towards me.

“Don’t say her name.” He whispers, “She’ll know.” His hand slowly begins to part.

“What do I call her then?” Seeing the consequentiality of the room rise, I emulate their murmur.

Huey lowers the wax candle to the middle of the circle we had created throughout the conversation, “We’ve been calling her Worerdurk.”

“Ok then,” I allow the new information to season, “I’m just happy Worerdurk hasn’t, y’know, gotten to any of us.” My voice heightens as it attempts to avoid the severity of the situation. “It’s almost been a full day, she must be getting frustrated by now.”

“I don’t think so.” My hoodie wearing brother’s clarification almost overlaps my prediction, “Our sister isn’t that weak willed, she’ll wait as long as it takes.”

“Like a predator to their prey.” Huey finishes, his eyes dilating as he recollects. Both keep silent after, allowing me to think the situation over. What they have seen I can only imagine��

Their silence is not well utilized as before I could get a response out, the thin walls ripple and shake. The sound of distanced footsteps reaching us. Our eyes bolt open, their pupils staring at each other as we prepare for action.

“She’s here.” My silver tongued sibling addresses Hubert.

“I’ll get the weapons.” The cap wearing and increasingly calm Huey bolts deeper into the tunnel of blankets.

I turn to worry, keeping vigilant for any type of indicator of danger. This paranoia leading me to notice Louie a bit less jumpy, uncharacteristically so. His sitting body hunched over a picture.

I crawl over, raising my neck over his as I attempt to view the celluloid. Though harder to see in the miniscule candle light, the object identifies itself as a picture of us, dressed in humorously designed attire. The photo is far from methodically composed, streaks of blurred action carved to it as I rebelled against my sweater. I chuckle at the recent memory.

“Where’d you find that picture Lou, I thought Uncle Donald threw all those out.” I inquire.

“We found it while trying to smuggle guns from Worerdurk’s room, she had it framed.” He remains stoic, halting his answer as his drowsy eyes continue to stare over the picture a bit longer. “She takes this game so seriously, you think she can be talked out of it?”

“I don’t know.” My answer reins honest.

… A moment of shaky stillness follows my response, interrupted by the sudden movement of my triplet’s hand as he crumbles and hides the picture, turning to me swiftly after.

“Does your gun have any darts left?” Louie looks to me.

“No, I’m tapped.”

The answer brings out an annoyed grunt from the analytical adventurer. “It’s worthless to try to escape without guns. We’ll just hope Huey is faster than Webbs.”

“I thought we couldn’t say her name.” A second of my jittery concern asks.

He remains silent as the correction reaches his ears. Thought overtakes him, the footsteps getting louder and faster, its banging only matching the intensity of my beating heart. It raises further, and further, and further. The sound of incoming danger scratching over me, the thinning quiet only adding to the stabbing dread. My fingers clench into themselves, my spine straightens, my brow furrowing in shaky anticipation. The slamming steps boom, one after the other. I shift the anxious glare I wore across the room, my head nagging for an escape, eventually finding solace in my brother. Who, against any type of common sense or logic, wore a smirk, a begrudged smile. Why?

A figure darts to our corner of Cushion Island. I toss my body back as I analyze if the silhouette was friend or foe. Luckily, the candle light reveals the identifiable outfit of Huey Duck. Louie’s smile fades.

“This is all I could find, she's right on my tail.” Alarm laces his words. Quickly dropping a collection of plastic pistols, rifles, and ammunition over the cushioned floor, Huey begins to haul various items towards himself. Footsteps approach. As I stare over my brothers, their faces contorting and biting in determined vigor, two pistols are thrown over my lap. “Those are yours.” 

“Thanks..” I take both weapons, along with their accompanied darts. The weight pulls my arms to the ground before leveling them. Scanning the pistols I am able to assess their strength, weapons worthy of battle. Additionally, I notice their dramatically fitting color scheme, the right sporting vibrant red and green while the left a light blue and pink.

The sound of a long rifle clicking sounds from Huey, who while fiddling with his weapon asks, “You taking anything, Louie?”

The green adorned duck exhales heavily, “Don’t think so.”

The question’s originator sighs, standing as the answer delivers. 

“That’s stupid, how are you gonna protect yourself without a gun?” I ask, the oddity of the response forcing me to question. “Are you not that good of a shot?”

My brother restores the smirk from before, the incoming attacker’s noise scratching over us, yet he walked closer to it.

Huey pulls my shoulder, raising and dragging me to Louie’s opposing direction.  “He’s a great shot, actually.”

“We need to wait for Louie.” I attempt to reason, my feet slipping behind my older brother, my sight distancing from my younger. 

“He’ll draw us some time.”

“What?! No!” The situation’s condition punctures. The anger of it giving me the strength to break from Huey’s grip, the force shooting me closer to Louie, my feet continuing the travel. Not soon after the arms I escape stretch and lock over my abdomen, my sprint halted as I am once again pulled away.

“Dewey, it’s alright.” I stop my resistance as Louie speaks. “Just doing my part of a deal.” His words spewed with such confidence yet they only read to me like self-righteous nonsense. “You’ll win anyways, it’s not that big a deal.” 

Just as he finishes, the blanket walls that separated the room Louie stood over begins to ripple and open, a figure walking in as the footsteps halt. I don’t get to see the menace as Huey, with one final tug, emerges out from Cushion Island with me in hand. I separate as we bounce over the wooden flooring of the relatively better lit mansion hallway. 

“We need to run, you got your weapon?” Huey asks, slowly returning to his feet.

I struggle to find any will to return to my feet, the burning anger and sorrow encompassing all my energy. 

“Dewey!” 

My trance is broken, the sorrow suppressed as anger refuels me. I bolt to my feet, clutching the dual pistols in my unstable hands. I take a deep breath, the first intake of air I’ve dared take in the last minute. “Let’s go.”

The two of us race back the way I came, almost immediately after, the horrid sound of Webby’s guns firing echoes from the now desolate Cushion Island. My feet stumble, my teeth grinding onto each other in sizzling rage. I shake my head, holding my tongue as I return to a full sprint.

“Stop!” Huey drags his feet. “Look.” He points to the remaining stretch of the hallway.

I step besides him, looking forward to the sight of an almost invisible piece of string stretch taught along the two walls.

“Let’s just step over it.” I suggest.

“Look closer.” 

I return to analyzing the continuing path, noticing what my brother refers to. The same piece of twine repeated across the rest of the house.

“How did she even find the time to do this?” My shocked and agape mouth sounds off.

An eerily familiar family of footsteps fastly approaches. “Dewey! Huey! I know you’re there!” An arrogant and maniacal Webbigail boasts, her shadow stretching and distorting as it begins to turn towards us.

“Quickly! The lights!” Huey orders.

The instructions delay trying to reach my understanding but I eventually look over to the chandelier hanging near the alleyway’s middle. My arms raise, haphazardly aiming before laying two bullets in its direction. The second stray shot crashing across its top, knocking it out of balance and out of frame. The set piece falls harshly across the wood, the bulbs it hung shattering onto the walls and ground. Blinding all nearby with its lack of light.

“Come on! Over here.” I hear a voice call to me from my left, the still readable figure of Huey Duck hiding behind one of the drawers the house had a plentiful variety of. I throw myself, ducking alongside him.

“We need a plan.” I begin, my whisper falling to the increasing vibrations of the approaching Worerdurk.

“Yeah…” Huey dives into thought. Mumbling as he thinks of what to do.

My patience pounds across my head, my hand readjusting in fidgety anticipation. My neck turns as I wait for my smarter half to adjust to the situation, looking off to the hallway, searching for danger in the ink black darkness. As I scan the environment, two green dots stare back at me. My heart rips from my chest before I return to hiding.

“She has her night vision goggles, hurry up!” I don’t attempt to hide my desperation in the whisper.

“Don’t rush me!” he retorts, quickly slamming his feathered palms over his beak as the screech echoes, alerting any still breathing creature in the house. “Dammit…  I got a plan.”

“Tell me! Quickly!” I disobey his previous scowl.

“You only have one chance Dewey,” A pair of hands fall over my shoulders, “-take our sister down.” The hands squeeze before my body is hurled where Huey once was, the sound of his body scurrying past me blasting. I look over, the silhouette of my hat wearing brother dashes into the hallway. 

Gunfire instantly commences, the streaks of wind the darts produce flying over me. My body curls, the intensity of the moment shooting between my bones, the fear washing and twisting every miniscule detail of my body; forfeiting control of my valor. 

“No!” I yell to myself. Too much has been sacrificed, Louie tried to reason with her, Huey survived for my sake and now he’s fighting alone because he put his trust in me. “I CAN’T GIVE UP NOW!” 

I raise my body over the drawer, placing my arms across as I wildly shoot forwards. The pistols alternate shots, my left hand firing first, the red and green, the gun brave enough to attack first. The beaming green dots of my sister’s goggles shift to me before darting towards my brother, who’s weapon shoots aimlessly at her.

My guns don’t let up, my shut eyes doing little to help the cause. My fingers press and release in unison, the foam ammunition bouncing from all surfaces it can find, my continuous onslaught only hesitating when a loud grunt strikes me. 

“I’m out!” Huey screams, grunted pain in his begrudged announcement.

My soul sinks. I lower my body behind cover once more, my right hand finishing to press the trigger, it clicking, empty. I look down to it, tossing it aside as a million different thoughts flash my mind. I stare the hardly visible blue and pink dart gun down, the last remaining, one final shot. I exhale before tossing my body back over the wooden shelf, taking both of my overfilled hands to aim. Between the eyes, the two glowing beams that glared me over. The whirring of a gun ready to begin shooting sounds from my target, the artillery she carried ready to riddle my body in plastic. 

“Dear o’ sibling of mine…” I whisper, the previously suppressed sorrow stationing in my right index finger which sadly levers.

My final dart shoots ahead, dashing between the wind which pulled against it, vanishing to the darkness upon release.

“Ow!” A high pitched Webby screams. A palpable anticipation takes hold of all in the audience. A wait of the outcome, of the winner's disclosure. “Aw man! You got me!”

The reveal deafens my ears, my already limited view doubling, my head dizzying.

“YOU DID IT DEWEY! YOU WON!” A secondary voice congratulates.

The room begins to spin, my body’s excess of adrenaline leaving my body sluggish upon its departure. Consciousness begins to leave me, my body dropping as quickly as my increasingly heavy eyelids. Before I fall, however, I scream out, raising my left hand, the blue and pink pistol still loosely attached to it, “Heck yeah I did!” 

My brain shuts down.

Dewey eventually woke up, where he, along with his brothers and sister, was forced to clean up the mess their little Nerf war had caused. Despite that particular drawback, Dewey still proves proud of his cooperative victory over the once thought unbeatable Webbigail. The perfect end for a particularly perfect week.

Thank you all so much for reading through this rather long week finale, if you have yet to read the rest of the week’s submissions, all are posted on this AO3 link

[bssaz97]

How would the team especially Ruby react to Dracula Jaune (or Jaune D(racula) Arc)? Also does his semblance evolve? Like how he can give people his aura, it evolves where he can take others. Like how Dracula takes the life force/blood of his victims?

Ruby: Guys! I found Jaune! He’s over here!

Jaune Arc has been captured by Salem’s faction for Two. Whole. Months. But finally the group had been able to find where he was being kept and now they were going to bust him out. Thankfully Winter, Marrow and FNKI had defected from Ironwood’s military and decided to aid them in rescuing Jaune after they broke them out of captivity. They had barely escaped Ironwood’s clutches but now she had Jaune back. In order to avoid their Atlas pursuers the group decides to split up. One group (Oscar, Winter, Blake, Yang, FNKI, Penny, Pietro, Maria, Marrow, Robyn and Happy Huntresses) goes to Shade Academy in Vacuo while the others (Ruby, Weiss, Nora, Ren and Qrow) go to search for Jaune.

The odd thing was that they had kept Jaune in a vat of red liquid that she couldn’t immediately recognize but that could be looked at later. Although upon closer examination, Jaune looked quite paler and looked to be sleeping without a mask on. Soon enough Ruby blasted the control module and soon enough the tank emptied and Jaune slowly dropped to the ground. After a few seconds the tank opened and Ruby rushes to Jaune’s side, cradling his form in her arms.

Ruby: Jaune? Jaune, can you hear me? Are you ok?

When she received no response, Ruby began to panic and quickly checked his breathing. It was...slow, very slow. Next she moved her head towards his bare chest to hear his heartbeat.

*Ba....................................Bump!*

Ruby: Oh gods, please just let that be a part of my imagination.

Weiss: Ruby what’s taking so long?!

Ruby: He’s unconscious! I need someone to help me carry him.

Ren: I can-

Nora: I’LL HELP HIM. You just cover us!

Ren: ...Ok then.

Nora goes to Ruby’s side and together they carry Jaune out of the tank and then the group started to make their escape. As the group started making their way out of the base, they had to move quickly if they wanted to get out of there in one piece. Their group had made it outside and were making their way to their smuggled Manta ship, they were gonna make it out.....That is until a group of Atlesian soldiers came out of hiding and pointed their guns at them, Ironwood at point.

Everyone: Aw shit.

Ironwood: Sorry to interrupt your little rescue mission but but I believe you all will be coming with me now.

Qrow: Look James I know a lot of shit happened during the Fall of Mantle but that doesn’t mean we should keep aiming at each other’s throats.

Ironwood: Save it Qrow. From where I stand all I see are fugitives who are just as much a threat to the safety of Remnant as is Salem. Also if my memory serves me well, not only has your group acquired two stolen Atlas Mantas, taken the power of the Winter Maiden, corrupted my chain of command, and escaped Atlesian custody, you are also responsible for the death of many of my best men.

Ruby: Clover’s death wasn’t our fault it was Tyrian.

Ironwood: And Qrow allowed himself to aid in his murder. Qrow has as much of Clover’s blood in his hands as does that psychotic bastard. And don’t try to act innocent Rose. You’re just as much a criminal as is your uncle.

The General pulls out one of his signature pistols from it’s holster and points it at them.

Ironwood: Now drop your weapons you’re out numbered here. I won’t ask a second time.

Nora: Why so you can keep us as prisoners in your sky fortress! News flash! That plan didn’t work the first time so what makes you think it’ll work a second time!

Ironwood: .....For once you bring an excellent point Valkyrie. Why should I take you as prisoners, you’ve all already proven to be more dangerous alive so I can’t put you in a cage that you’re just going to break out of again. *Lowers his gun* Men...on my mark shoot to kill!

Weiss: Great one Nora! Now what’s your plan?!

Ironwood: 3...2...1....FI-

???: Before you do that Jimmy mind if interject?

Ironwood and everyone else present are brought out of the tense situation and notice that the once unconscious Jaune Arc was standing right begin Ironwood.

Ironwood: What?! H-How did?

Jaune: You see I just got out of being stuck in a tube for two months so understandably, I. Am. Very famished , so do you mind if I take a sip of one of your men? Sure? Gee thanks!

Ironwood: .....what?

Jaune: *Completely ignoring Ironwood * Hey you there, yes you, mind if I get some sip?

Specialist: W-What?

Jaune: *Grabs the soldier by the throat and lifts them up* I SAID LET ME GET SOME SIP!

The specialist screamed out of pain as they felt all of the aura in their body was being forcibly taken and dried up. The result was shown as the specialist looked paler and more dead than alive. Unceremoniously Jaune dropped the living corpse on the ground and looked much more livelier. Except not, as his skin remained pale, his hair had remained white instead of blonde and his once blue eyes opened showing that they were burning red with black sclera eyes instead. His voice was also very much deeper, he almost sounded like a different person.

Jaune: Aaaah! That really hit the spot! Now what was this you about killing us?

Ironwood: Open Fire!

At once all of Ironwood’s men open fired on the distorted Jaune Arc and watched as he seemed to take every shot they fired until he fell to the ground in a bloody mess.

Ruby: JAUNE NO!!!

Ironwood walked up to the body and shot the corpse two more times.

Ironwood: That was for Damien.

As Ironwood turns around to the rest of the group he’s met with a very angry Ruby pointing Crescent Rose point blank at his face.

Ruby: Give me one reason why I shouldn’t blow your brains out Ironwood!

Ironwood: Do you think I’m a fool, I know you won’t shoot me. You don’t have the resolve.

Ruby: *Cocks the bolt handle* You sure about that?

The two leaders stand-off each other and almost seem ready to kill the other in a moment’s notice.

Jaune: You know she’s right. She can do it.

Both leaders look back at the ‘corpse’ as it prepares to stand up from being gunned down. Once he stands up it almost as if he wasn’t harmed at all.

Jaune: You know what Jimmy....I’m feeling a bit more famished than I thought. Sooooooo I think I’ll just help myself to your men!

In a rapid pace Jaune charges at the group of specialists and proceeds to kill off each one. The others just witness as he effortlessly tears apart each of Ironwood’s men but leaves some alive to absorb their Aura. It was a terrifying and gruesome scene that left all of them sick to the stomach. By the end of it Jaune was nearly covered head to toe with the blood of many.

Jaune: WOW! I am impressed Jimmy...impressed of how shit your specialists were! Like seriously I didn’t even kill the last guy he just offed himself like a bitch! Now where were we again?

Ironwood: RRAAAHH! *Draws both of his pistols and starts to shoot at Jaune*

*BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!*

As if it was effortless, Jaune dodged all of Ironwood’s shots with a speed of a phantom and soon enough he was face to face to Ironwood.

Jaune: Sup.

Ironwood: H-Hey.

Jaune: I’m taking you arm now.

Ironwood: What?

Jaune grabs Ironwood’s left arm and rips it out it’s socket in a gory shower of blood and muscle.

Ironwood: AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!

Jaune: What’s wrong Jimmy?! You were talking good shit a second ago! Why don’t you have one of your dead men give you a new arm?! I’m sure they gladly do it as they now have plenty to give. * While still holding the torn off appendage, Jaune grabs Ironwood’s black pistol and shoots him three times in the back*

Ironwood: AAAHH! *Wrinths in pain and drops his white pistol*

Jaune: What’s that Jimmy?! Don’t like getting shot a bunch of times, oh but I bet you love shooting at children off cliffs DON’T YA!!! *brings the pistol closer to his ear* What’s that you want me to shoot off your appendages?! Well then I guess it’s my lucky day!!!

Ruby: JAUNE!!!

Jaune stiffens at the voice he hears calling him, he looks to the side and sees Ruby with tears in her eyes and a almost terrified expression. She walks closer slowly to keep his focus on her. Ruby then kneels down and grabs the other pistol from Ironwood dropped. Once it’s in her hands she stands up to look at Jaune, her dear friend. She places her empty hand on his face gently.

Ruby: Let’s just go...he’s can’t chase us in his current condition. Please...come with me.

Jaune: ......... *He steps away from Ironwood and closer to Ruby, looking at her with a soft expression that reminded her that the man before her was indeed Jaune* Ok Crater Face.

Ruby: *Smiles* ‘Sniff’ Ok.

Jaune: *Looks back at Ironwood and looks down at the black pistol* You got cool guns Jimmy...I’m keeping them.

Ruby: *Grabs his arm* Come on let’s go.

Jaune: As you wish.

Weiss: What on Remnant just happened.

Qrow: I got no fucking clue Icicle.

Ren: *Walks up cautiously* J-Jaune.....is it really you?

Jaune: *Looks at him before smiling* Ren...you sonava bitch....how you doing’ buddy?

Ren: Good....you?

Jaune: Been better but what can ya do?

Nora runs up and nearly tackles her lost leader and clings to him closely.

Nora: I....I thought we lost you again...when...when they all shot at you. I thought you were done for.

Jaune: Oh come on, Nora. Who do I look like, Cardin Winchester? I’m not gonna abandon you like that.

Qrow: ....kid. The hell happened to you.

Jaune: ...... *Laughs softly* Now that is a long fuckin’ story.

-End-

Hope you enjoy my take on Dracula Jaune. I was inspired by Hellsing Abridged Alucard and Other forms of Drac in case anyone spot any references. And yes Jaune is taking Ironwood’s guns as they almost are asking for him to take them. See you all later!

[burnedbyshoto]

burnedbyshoto sleepover

in lieu of reaching 5,000 followers, we are having another sleepover. due to the lateness of this all, this will begin as soon as it is posted, so have fun!

what am I taking?:

f m k

m o s t  t o  l e a s t  l i k e l y

o p i n i o n s  o n  t h i s

a s k  m e  a n y t h i n g

and as always:

p r o m p t s

just as seen before this event will end on January 19 at 11:59 p.m. PST (look at what time california is in if that confuses you). This time I have gathered prompts for you, go ahead and check them out below!

to submit a prompt, make sure to include the following:

character, category/categories, number(s)

if you do not do this I will choose whatever I want, and that’s no fun. I will also not repeat the same number for the same character. so if there are 7 asks for “dabi, angst, 7″ I will do the first one and thats it :) also there’s so many, im sorry LMAO

Fluff:

“It’s too cold! Come back!”

“No, I’m never letting you go. It’s too early to get out of bed.”

“I’m not gonna stop poking you until you give me some attention.”

“What? Does that feel good?”

“I don’t like [x], I like you.”

“If it wasn’t for you, I’d be so lost. I’m so glad you came into my life.”

“I’d do anything for you.”

“Us… I like the sound of that.”

“You always know what to say.”

“You weren’t supposed to laugh! I’m so embarrassed!”

“Are you stupid or stupid?”

“Come here, you tiny smug bastard.”

“Just let me lean on the damn cart!”

“This might sound selfish, but I don’t care about the world - I only care about you!”

“Stop staring at me like that.”

“I know how this goes. First, you buy me a drink, then you tell me how pretty I look, and then, at the end of the night, you ask for my number.”

“Don’t get too close to that one, she’ll singe your fingertips and have you on your knees.”

“You have nothing to be insecure about.”

“Take notes, kitten”

“______, we have a problem.” “I’ve been gone for like two minutes.”

“I bet he’ll have that lampshade on his head two shots in.” 

“Does it look like I know what sleep is?”

“No, keep it. I want you to have it.”

“Fine, yes, I did do it for 3 dollars and a lollipop.”

“If you’re gonna make fun of me…”

“Oh my God, …we’re gonna be homeless.”

“Why’d you let go of my hand? Did I say something?”

“I know I kissed you before, but I didn’t do it right. Can I try again?”

“I don’t regret every second with you, I treasure them.”

“He loves you, you know? He’s just afraid of admitting it.”

“Today is the day I beat you in a thumb war!”

“I want everyone in the world to know you’re mine.”

“You’re so needy.”

“Need I remind you that your ring finger already belongs to me?”

“OH, you’re jealous!”

“Please just kiss me already.”

“I think you might be my soulmate.”

“I could punch you right now.”

“You’re insane,” “You love me,” “Not right now I don’t.”

“I’m going to fucking smack you in a minute, I swear.” - “That’s not very nice.”

Send in your own!

Angst:

“Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

“I’m not going to leave you. You’re never going to have to suffer by yourself again, I promise.”

“You deserve someone who values you.”

“I don’t like [x], I like you.”

“I can’t take the loneliness anymore.”

“Maybe I’m meant to be alone.”

“I’ve been alone for so long.”

“It isn’t up for debate.”

“I told you that I’d never leave you; I’m not going anywhere.”

“You take me instead, do you hear me? Give her back and take me instead.”

“You would risk the lives of millions for one person? Why?” - “Because it’s not just one life…it’s yours.”

“This might sound selfish, but I don’t care about the world - I only care about you!”

“It’s okay to break.”

“You don’t have to carry the weight of the world all by yourself, you know?”

“You’re a coward, (Name)! You hide away this entirely different part to yourself because you’re afraid that someone might get close to you! You’re afraid that someone might just care about you more than you think you deserve. That - that isn’t fair.”

“Why are you so dead set on this?”

“I find that being a coward keeps me more alive, so no thanks.”

“You can’t tell that I am in love with you because you were too busy loving someone else to notice me.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m done waiting.”

“All I want is for you to look at me the way you look at them.”

“It was a blatant lie when you said that you love me, but I don’t care.”

“Have you ever loved me? You know what, don’t say anything, we all know the answer.”

“It’s time to stop lying to ourselves.”

“Can I convince you to stay?”

“You were no good for me and I was too naive to see that.”

“You did a wonderful job convincing people that you love me, I almost fell for it.”

“I’ve finally come to accept the fact that you will never think I’m good enough for you.”

“I’m sorry, I think you got the wrong number.”

“Whoever you want to be with right now, that person is not me.”

“I’m sorry that I’m not who you wanted me to be.”

“I thought there’s something wrong with me. Turns out, it’s all you.”

“You used to look at me like that.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if things could have worked out.”

“You know what’s funny? No matter what you’ve done, I’ll still fall for you all over again.”

“Say it, say you don’t love me.”

“I had been in love with you for my entire life and you decided to love me back when I finally gave up.”

“Your ego stopped you from loving me, how sad is that.”

“We aren’t meant to be, can’t you tell?”

“I’m sorry, but…I don’t remember you.”

“I am begging on my knees. Please, don’t do this.”

Send in your own!

Cliches/Situations:

There’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close

You confessed your feelings and we’re about to kiss but we get interrupted

We dated in high school but then you moved away but now you’re back in town

I need a date for this wedding

“Do you trust me?”

I’m going to save you from the terrible date you’re having

You took a bullet for me

“I’ve been in love with you for years.”

I called you at 2 am because I need you

I’m scared but won’t admit it so you take my hand

“I’m in your body!”

Holding out their arm in front of s/o’s view to prevent them from being shot.

Suddenly pulling them in for a dance.

Watching them sleep in the early morning. 

Pleading for s/o to keep walking toward them in the midst of destruction, hand outstretched and desperate. 

Holding their hair back as they vomit into the toilet. 

Taking them to a pet store and falling in love with them as they gush over the millions of puppies. 

Singing together/catching them singing softly to themselves as they cook/do the dishes. 

Video calling them because they miss them. 

Showing up at a club after they’ve called them, drunkenly needing their presence, and then taking them home. 

Breaking up in the middle of the pouring rain/watching them through the rear-view mirror as they drive away. 

Bouncing on a trampoline when they should be adulting/going to work.

Helping them with their homework, then proceeding to distract them. 

Taking them a bath after a long day/mission gone awry. 

Bandaging them up, scolding them for getting themselves hurt. 

Willingly becoming the bait in a mission to save them. 

Going on a mission together, partnering up as husband and wife. 

Fighting side by side, arms raised, guns up in the middle of a battle. 

Calling them during a panic attack, having them rush over to sooth them.

Distancing themselves in order to keep them safe. 

Losing their memory only to have it come back after a much-awaited true love’s kiss. 

Watching over them while they’re in a coma, never leaving their side, never sleeping because they want to be there when they wake up. 

Being in denial about them actually being in love with them. 

Having to erase s/o’s memory of them so they can remain safe. 

Choosing someone else over them. 

Training with them/sparring with them. 

Wrapped up in a sheet after a drunken night, flustered and trying to find their clothes while they watch you amusingly.

Waking up to them making you breakfast while half-naked.

Being utterly touch starved and too shy to ask to be held, so they resolve to brush their fingers against a part of s/o’s skin, etc.

Being the overly protective one during the pregnancy, doing everything for their s/o.

Send in your own!

Smut

“Underwear is optional.”

“Would you prefer my tongue or my cock?”

“There are only two acceptable options: either you eat me, or I’m going to eat you.”

“Remember this: your body belongs to me, and me alone.

“Your body seems to have other ideas.”

“Can you help me take care of this boner?” - “Take care of it yourself!” - “Well, it’s your fault it’s there in the first place!”

“Tonight, no hands are allowed -- only your mouth is acceptable.”

“If you keep moaning like that, you’re going to wake everyone else up.”

“I want you to watch me when I fuck you.”

“Not until you properly beg for it.”

“Don’t worry…I’ll make sure to take my sweet time punishing you.”

“I’m hard.” -  “Sounds like a personal problem.”

“No need to fantasize when the real thing is right in front of you.”

“Stop teasing me, fuck!”

“You know, you always look so much better when I mark you up.”

“You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”

“You’d better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want? I could really hurt you.”

“If you’re going to act like a little brat then I’m going to treat you like a little brat.”

“I don’t care how good it feels you’d better not cum until I tell you to.”

“I bet you think you’re really cute letting them put their hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when I get you home.”

“You don’t have to be gentle with me, I don’t break easily.”

“You take my fingers so well don’t you?”

“Did I stutter? Do as you’re told!”

“Look at you, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shaking.”

“If you keep making those sounds I’m not going to be able to stop myself.”

“Take it off. Slowly.”

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

“Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic.”

“Did I say you could stop?”

“I need you. Now!”

“Well since you want to cum so badly, why don’t we see how many times I can make you cum right now.”

“Come sit on my face, let me show you how much I missed you.”

“So desperate for it, aren’t you? Well, if you want it so bad you’d better start taking it.”

“If you leave the house wearing that then the second you get back home I’m going to bend you over that bed.”

“Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that?”

“You know, you look really pretty when you cry.”

“Look at you, grinding against everything, you’re really desperate for it. Aren’t you?”

“You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in.”

“Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”

Send in your own! 

Types of Kisses

Small kisses littered across the other’s face.

A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.

An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.

Throwing their arms around the other person’s neck, hugging them close before kissing them passionately on the lips.

Wild, breathless kisses brought on by a heartfelt gift.

French kisses where they trace every tooth with their tongues as though trying to memorize them.

Laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand.

A kiss that lasts so long, they are sharing each other’s breaths.

A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it.

Morning kisses that are exchanged before either person opens their eyes, kissing blindly until their lips meet in a blissful encounter.

Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

Butterfly kisses against the other’s cheeks.

A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished.

A fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick.

One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person

Tucking their hands beneath the other person’s shirt, just to watch them break the kiss and gasp in surprise at the sensation of cold/warm hands on their skin.

One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss.

Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference.

A chaste kiss given to each other because they are in a mixed company.

A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party.

Deep kisses where they have their hands tangled in each other’s hair to pull them closer.

Brushing a kiss along the shell of the other person’s ear.

Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap.

One person tracing the other’s lips with a fingertip until they can’t resist any longer, tilting their chin towards them for a kiss.

Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force.

Weak, sweaty kisses because it’s unbearably hot.

Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips.

An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it.

Kisses that start on their fingers and run up their arm, eventually ending on their lips.

Starting with Eskimo kisses before moving on to soft kisses.

Whispering “I love you” before a chaste, delicate kiss.

Kissing tears from the other’s face.

Kisses shared under an umbrella.

Distracting kisses from someone that is meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead.

A kiss pressed to the top of the head.

Tentative kisses that are given in the dark.

One person has to bend down in order to kiss their partner, who is standing on their tip-toes to reach their partner’s.

A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck.

A single loving kiss left on the other’s forehead when they fall asleep snuggled close together.

comforting kisses pressed to tear-stained cheeks between whispered words of reassurance and concern.

Send in your own!

[britishassistant]

But I Like One Piece (11)

The scar on her lip is kind of a pain.

It feels strange for one thing, tough and bumpy, making her aware of its presence every time her mouth shifts or when she gets too excited while talking or when she yawns too widely.

Of course, once she’s reminded that it’s there, she want to fiddle with it. But for some reason whenever she gets bored enough to do so, Naruto or Sakura or whoever’s sitting closest to her will grab her arm and say “No.” in a Very Stern Voice.

It almost feels a little demeaning. Not quite, but almost.

What is demeaning is Uchiha glaring at her, and demanding, “Are you some kind of coward?”

She blinks, thermos of miso halfway to her mouth. “Beg your pardon?”

He eyes her disdainfully. “We’re going to be ninja. We fight to kill our enemies—”

“I’m going to be a pirate, actually.” She interrupts.

Naruto snorts softly into his rice.

“—Pirates kill people too, shut up.” Uchiha hisses.

“Wait. Is this about the biting thing?” She asks, incredulous. Surely not. Uchiha is a clan kid. He should know how this works—

Uchiha sniffs imperiously. “You’ll just drag me down if you always need Sakura to save you from a fight.”

Apparently not.

Robin give her strength.

“Hey!” Kiba yells. “Sakura beating up Ami was totally badass. Mizuki-sensei shoulda given her a medal instead of detention!”

Sakura goes as pink as her hair as Akamaru yips in agreement, mumbling something about it not being a big deal around her second stick of dango. She does return the fist bump Kiba offers though.

“That’s not the point.” Uchiha retorts dismissively. “The point is we’re going to fight and kill as ninja— don’t.” He stabs an accusing finger in her direction and she raises her hands in mock surrender. “And Ketsugi never fights back. She says stuff, but then she runs away, or lets other people take care of it, or hurts herself. It’s weak, stupid cowardice.”

The last word is said with such vehemence that it’s hard for her not to flinch.

“Well, it’s not like I have any choice.” She snaps, irritably.

Uchiha scoffs. “What are you talking about?! The only thing stopping you is your own stupid, cowardly ideas about pacifism!!”

She blinks, trying to process that last bit. “What? What on earth are you on about?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know!” He screams, all but jumping out of his seat, “It’s just like him! I’m not watching another one—not when I can stop it!!”

Uchiha looms over her, glaring down, chest heaving from the force of his yelling.

She has no idea what he’s talking about. She feels more worried for him than insulted at this point.

“Hey Shino.” Chouji cuts in, munching on his second onigiri. “There are insects that don’t get along with your bugs, right? Ones that weren’t born in your hive?”

Shino tilts his head, letting his insects eat bits of strawberry from his daifuku off his finger. “That is a technically true statement. Why? Because while my kikaichū do not have natural enemies in the way ants and termites are opposed to one another, there are several species of insect and arachnid that would prey upon them, which have been utilized by imitator clans in other hidden villages.”

“Right.” Chouji continues. “So, let’s say you found one of these bugs that eats them had injured one of yours. Not killed, but injured. What do you do?”

Shino stiffens, but replies, “I would exterminate it. Why? Because it has proven itself a viable threat to my colony.”

“Wh-that doesn’t mean anything!” Uchiha interrupts. “It’d have to be one of Aburame’s bugs attacking another of the same hive, since Ketsugi was born here, so—”

“No I wasn’t.”

Uchiha actually has the gall to shoot her a disbelieving look. “Yes you were.”

“No I wasn’t.” She hisses, leaning forward. “I was born in Iron, like my father. One of my earliest memories is him and my mother leaving the country, on the run from something that made it better to drug their baby rather than let me cry and have whatever it was find us.”

A hush falls over the table.

“That would explain why you’re here, in Konoha.” Shikamaru says slowly. “Even if it’s not the closest to Iron, it’s one of the strongest hidden villages, so pursuers would have trouble trying to get through our defenses.”

“And guess what happens if the village decides me and mine are too much trouble to live here anymore?” She snaps, taking a swig of her miso.

It’s gone lukewarm.

Uchiha’s turned pale, staring blankly down at his bruschetta. He slowly sits back down.

“So...” Kiba says, feeding Akamaru some pork belly. “Are you, like, some kinda lost princess or something?”

“What? No, of course not.” Ino and Sakura’s eyes take on a worrying gleam. “I said no. I’m not. No. Stop that. Stop it right now, the pair of you.”

“We’re not doing anything~” Sakura sing-songs, hands clasped against her chest.

She squints at them, lips thinning. “Lies.”

“Hey hey, Mayu-chan,” Ino says, leaning forward. “If you just happened to be a lost princess or daimyo’s daughter hiding from a usurper’s assassins, you’d totally hook your best besties in the entire world up with some hot princes, right?”

“Does Naruto even like princes?” She replies, bracing herself against Sakura’s playful assault on her shins and Ino’s tossed napkins. “Ow, ow, I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

“Aw, what! I wanna meet a prince, believe it!” Naruto whines, though his playful tone sounds a little strained.

“Tough.” She sticks her tongue out at him. He blows a raspberry back in response.

“So who were your family in Iron?” Chouji asks, passing her an apple slice.

She shrugs, handing him her cookie. “Just one of the many, many samurai clans who serve the Iron daimyo. Like the Kiryuuin, the Kurogane, the Kishi, the Kageyama, the Kihote, the Kikuchi, the Kaname, the Koremune, the Kusakabe, and loads of others.”

“Do all of these clan names start with ‘K’ sounds?” Hinata asks.

“...No.” She says.

“Could you give us an example one that doesn’t?” Hinata asks.

“...The Okashi.”

“What the heck, that doesn’t count! They just slapped an ‘O’ in front of the ‘Ka’!” Kiba complains, Akamaru barking his agreement.

“You’re the last person to say anything about ‘K’ names.” Shikamaru replies.

“You’ve not got much room to talk either, Shika-kun.” Chouji ribs, nudging his friend.

From there it devolves into a debate about how many “k” sounds are in whose names, and who has the right to criticize an excess of “k’s” based off of that. So far, only Shino and Hinata are awarded that honor.

Naruto isn’t as active in the conversation as he usually is, only responding when addressed directly, staring into space when not.

Uchiha doesn’t say much at all.

Naruto goes straight to the swing-set outside the Academy once the day ends.

She follows him, watching curiously as he clambers up to stand on the swing, looking up at something behind her with a solemn expression on his face, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

She goes up to the tree and sits between its roots to wait.

Lee comes out of the Academy, and come striding towards them. “Greetings Mayu-chan! Naru—”

“Ssh!” She hushes, jerking her head towards Naruto.

Lee instantly clams up, a quizzical expression on his face.

She shuffles a bit to the side and pats the ground next to her, and he plops down to sit cross-legged beside her.

“What’s Naruto doing?” He whispers to her.

“I don’t know.” She whispers back. “But he’s concentrating really hard, so I didn’t want to disturb him.”

Lee nods in understanding, then waves silently but with great enthusiasm at a girl with her hair in buns who passes them.

She seems like a nice girl, because she waves back.

They play five rounds of rock-paper-scissors, four of which Lee wins, and one of which results in a hushed debate about whether “gun” is a “youthful” option in this game, before Naruto finally speaks.

“I’m gonna be the Hokage, believe it.”

They look up at him, standing on the swing, jaw set in determination, hair swaying in the breeze that swirls a few leaves past his face.

“...Okay? Weren’t you always going to be Hokage though?” She asks, not quite seeing where he’s going with this.

“Wh—yes, but s’more than that.” Naruto says, exasperation evident in his tone.

He lets go of one of the swing’s ropes, and gazes down at his clenched fist. “I wanted to be Hokage ‘cause old Jiji’s the most respected person in the village. Everyone loves him, an’ he protects everyone, because everyone’s his precious people.”

He looks at them, eyes bright and painfully earnest. “But even though everyone in the village is precious, some’ve them’re still so mean to you, and to Otou-san and to Okaa-san, just for being from somewhere not here, f’r bein’ different, an’ that’s not fair. So I wanna be Hokage, so I can tell them not to be mean. I’m gonna be Hokage so you don’t have to bite yourself anymore, and so we can all always go home to Okaa-san and Otou-san and Gai-sensei an’ eat tortoise bread. So everyone can be happy, and understand I’ll protect everyone, no matter what, believe it. What foods we like is more important than where we’re from, right?”

Oh.

Oh.

She swallows around a lump in her throat. “Right. T-that’s exactly, exactly right.”

Lee gives a great sniff, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “Your resolve is highly youthful, Naruto! I am sure you will even surpass the Yondaime when you become Hokage!!”

Naruto rubs the back of his head, grinning widely.

Then a stronger gust of wind rocks the swing and he teeters dangerously, arm windmilling as she and Lee lunge forward to catch him, try to cushion his fall somewhat.

She’s partly successful as Lee’s lunge ends up knocking Naruto off the swing entirely, the pair landing on her with a thud that drives the air from her lungs and leaves her wheezing.

“Ow.”

They end up half-limping home.

Otou-san is dozing on the couch, and he blinks awake drowsily at their chorus of “we’re home,” only to tilt his head in sleepy confusion.

“What happened to you three?” He asks, nodding towards her dust and bark covered dress as he picks a few leaves off of Naruto’s clothes, before pulling aside some of Lee’s hair to see the faint bruise where the swing swung back and clocked him in the head. “Did you all get into a fight at the Academy?”

They share a glance.

“N—” Lee starts.

“Yes.” She hastily cuts in, “Big fight. Very nasty.”

Naruto nods vigorously along with her. “Yeah, there were loads of missing nin with huge swords an’ killer laser jutsu an’ stuff.”

“That does sound scary,” Otou-san says, gently ruffling Lee’s hair with bandaged hands. “Lee, why don’t you go get an icepack from the freezer for that bruise? They’re on the top shelf.”

As Lee nods and trot off to the kitchen, her father shifts to sit more upright on the couch. “What were missing-nin doing at the Academy anyway?”

“They thought Mayu-chan was a lost princess, so they were tryna steal her for ransom.” Naruto replies, kneeling next to the couch so he can receive hair ruffles as well.

“Ah, I see.” Otou-san smiles, obliging him. “Mayu-chan, your mother is waiting in the back yard to do that.”

“Already?” She grimaces. She’d forgotten— thought she had more time...

“You don’t have to.” Otou-san urges softly. “There’s no shame in not doing it. I never did when I was your age. We could tell—”

“No.” She says firmly, fists clenched. “I-I want to do this too. Just—let me go prepare, alright?”

Her father nods slowly, his face solemn. She turns and climbs the stairs, ignoring Naruto’s worried stares or his queries about what was going on.

Sanji and Brook give her courage. Let it be over quickly, at least.

“Done.” Okaa-sama says, and she can barely contain her shudder of relief.

Her mother hands her a mirror, brushing stray bits off her shoulders. “Just as it always is, see?”

She keeps her gaze on her newly trimmed fringe and the Nico Robin cut brushing her shoulders, pretending she doesn’t see the shorn, wet slivers littering her clothes and the ground around her.

“Thank you, Okaa-san.” She smiles weakly, gratefully accepting the hug she receives and trying to ignore the pit of guilt in her stomach.

“I don’t get it.” Naruto says, sitting on the threshold of the back door. “What’s so bad about a haircut?”

“Well, for samurai, long hair is a mark of honor.” Otou-san says, hands folded into his kimono sleeves. “To have it cut off is a sign that you are no longer a samurai, which is highly dishonorable for lots of people in Iron. Mayu-chan has the spirit of a true samurai, so she hates having her hair cut.”

“Is that why you still have long hair, Jirou oji-san?” Lee asks, sipping on a cup of juice while holding a half-thawed ice pack to his head.

Otou-san tries to do an overdramatic flip of his braid, making the two boys giggle when it just ends up smacking him in the arm. “My hair is far too lustrous to be cut by the likes of sword or scissors!”

“Care to prove it, dear?” Okaa-san challenges, brandishing her scissors playfully.

Her father retreats back into the house in mock-fear. “You’re one of the lights of my life, darling! Even in the Pure Lands, my love for you will burn brighter than the sun!”

Her mother shakes her head. “And mine for you will shine brighter than the moon. Now inside, all of you, so we can begin making dinner.”

The discussion about hair continues through the preparation of hamburger steaks with sautéed greens.

Naruto and Lee are suitably amazed by the idea of women in Iron wearing their hair practically down to their ankles. Her brain just keeps conjuring up a mental image of Kumadori from CP9 in a woman’s kimono, with his long pink hair and kabuki poses.

“Doesn’t their hair get dirty, Mayu’s Okaa-san?” Naruto asks, almost dropping the patty he’s throwing between his hands.

Her mother shrugs. “I’m sure it must do— I was just as surprised as you when I saw it after I married your Otou-san and moved into the clan compound. I must confess, I never really understood the fascination for long hair that a lot of people in Iron have.”

“Do they not wear it like that in Kiri, Chie oba-san?” Lee says, depositing his chili flake-and-paprika-filled hamburger into the hissing frying pan.

“Oh, they can.” Her mother says, finally taking Naruto’s hamburger off him when he fumbles it again. “My baby cousin Mei had hair down to here.” She wiggles an elbow as she deposits the patty into the pan. “But since her hair was so thick and wavy, she found it a headache to deal with. Mayu-chan’s lucky she got her father’s fine hair, even with my color.”

“I love this color.” Otou-san declares, leaning over from stirring the spinach to plant a loud, wet kiss on Okaa-san’s cheek.

She pretends to gag as Naruto snickers, while Lee watches the display of affection with bright, shining eyes.

“Anyway.” She interrupts loudly. “Otou-san, what are we going to do for practice with the bokken? We were gonna move into fighting opponents before—”

There’s a moment of awkward silence as everyone tries to avoid thinking about what “before” signified.

“Well, you don’t need to worry about that, Mayu-chan.” Her father says, smile a touch too wide and gleeful. “I’ve made arrangements so we shouldn’t be thrown off our planned course too much. You may even pick it up faster!”

She understands the reason behind his glee the next morning.

She wishes she didn’t.

“You can’t be serious.” She says to her grinning father.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He beams. “This is the perfect way for you to get used to fighting an opponent. You need to learn how to adapt what I’ve taught you to counter a variety of fighting styles, given that it’s unlikely every opponent you face will be playing by the same rules you are.”

“Yosh! Well-said, Jirou-san!” Gai-sensei cheers, far too energetic for someone who’s just made them to do thirty laps around Konoha on one leg.

He finishes warming up and takes up opening position for Strong Fist style. “Now, Mayu-chan! Your aim for today will be to land a single blow on me before I disarm you! When you succeed, we will move on to landing two consecutive blows, then three, and so on until you are able to spar against me properly. Are you ready?”

The feeling of imminent regret is an old and familiar friend by this point.

She tries to make sure her grip on the bokken is as solid as possible. “Ready.”

By the time her mother opens the back door, she’s lying on her back, panting from the effort of trying to stand, and the bokken is lodged at the top of the neighbor’s tree.

She hadn’t even landed a hit once.

Even with her father yelling “helpful” advice like “Go for the hands!” once chakra had come into play.

“You have a visitor, Mayu-chan.” Okaa-san says.

“Ah, greetings young Uchiha! How are you this most youthful morning?” Gai-sensei asks cheerily, like he isn’t half-way to scaling the garden fence to get her weapon back for her.

She turns her head to the side, just in time to catch sight of Uchiha staring at the green-spandex-clad wonder that is Gai-sensei in silent stupefaction.

She wishes she had a camera so she could capture his expression.

Uchiha shakes his head, as though to disperse the shock of acknowledging Gai-sensei’s existence, then looks around until he sees her on the ground.

“What are you doing?” He asks, brows drawn down like he’s personally offended by her presence.

“Dying.” She tells him flatly. “Lee gets Habu-san, and Naruto gets all my cookbooks. He’ll eat way too much ramen otherwise.”

Uchiha glances between where Gai-sensei is making a lot of rustling noises and at her, considering. “Can I have the sword?”

She snorts. “Like shit, that’s Sakura’s. You get the all purpose flour.”

Her father sighs and kneels down to offer her an arm up. “Language, young lady. You did very well today.”

Her legs wobble under her and it’s a fight not to collapse right back down.

Gai-sensei leaps from the tree with a yell, rolling and neatly popping up in front of them with a thumbs up. “Yes! Once you stop freezing up in the face of jutsu, you’ll land a blow on me for sure, Mayu-chan!”

Uchiha shoots her a look that is extremely judgmental. “You couldn’t even land one hit?”

“Shut up Uchiha.” She says, taking the bokken back from Gai-sensei with a tired nod. “Why are you here, anyway? Is there a problem with cooking today?”

“We’re not doing that.” Uchiha drops his voice a few octaves. “I’m giving you the opportunity to prove your fighting spirit. You versus me. No politics, no cowardice. No holding back.”

The wind picks up, a cold draft that swirls leaves between them.

“Do you want me to die? No.” She says, leaning on the bokken. “I’ve spent all morning getting my a—”Her mother clears her throat pointedly. “—My butt kicked. I need a rest. And food.”

“Wh—I’ll give you food!” Uchiha blusters. “A-and it’s not just you! I’m fighting everyone!! You can rest while I fight Lee or Shino or something!”

“SUCH YOUTHFUL SPIRIT!!” Gai-sensei bellows, throwing an arm over Uchiha’s shoulders. “You truly are a paragon of your clan’s sense of camaraderie, young Sasuke! I would be honored if you would allow me to witness your battle with Lee!!”

“Young Sasuke” cringes away from the spandex’d arm. “No. No adults allowed. They’ll just hold us back.”

Gai-sensei wilts.

“Mayu can take some pictures of the fight for us!” Okaa-san adds quickly. “She’ll be happy to do it, won’t you Mayu?”

Gai-sensei immediately perks back up. “What a youthful idea, Chie-san!! Mayu-chan, be sure to capture these expressions of Youth as best you can! We’re counting on you!”

He shoots her a vigorous thumbs-up as her mother goes pink and swoons.

“Ah, I think our camera’s in a drawer over here—” Otou-san darts into the house, muttering under his breath about where he last saw it.

She stares blearily up at them. “Can I have a shower and some breakfast first?”

By the time she comes back down from her shower, the atmosphere feels very...awkward.

Lee’s arrived, and has been armed with their family camera on a thick cord around his neck. It’s what she’d consider an old one, big and bulky, that prints out its photos from a little slit on the bottom.

He waves to her, his mouth full of rice. She gives him a little wave back.

Uchiha is sitting stiffly in Naruto’s chair, staring down at an untouched plate of tamagoyaki like it’ll hold all the answers to the universe.

Okaa-san is washing dishes, back tense. She hands her a plate without a word.

Otou-san’s mouth is drawn, bandaged hand curled into a loose fist. He doesn’t even seem to notice Gai-sensei’s hand on his arm.

Gai-sensei smiles at her, but it’s strained. If she didn’t know any better, she’d almost say it was worried.

She wants to ask what happened in a cool, sneaky way that wouldn’t make the situation get worse, like Robin or Nami or Sanji or Brook can. But she’s not smart enough for that.

So she shovels egg and rice into her mouth, trying to eat as quickly as possible.

She wishes Naruto was here. It’s not fair the Hokage gets him for practically the whole two days on these weekends.

She kicks Uchiha’s ankle under the table. When he yelps and glares at her, she nods towards his plate and mouths “EAT”.

He scowls at her, but finally takes a bite, chewing aggressively.

They clear their plates in silence.

“I guess we’re heading out.” She says, after putting their dirty dishes in the sink. Uchiha just grunts and heads straight for the door.

Even Zoro has better manners than that kid.

“See you later Gai-sensei, Jirou-oji-san, Chie-oba-san!” Lee yells, holding the camera tightly. “Mayu-chan and I will fight with all of our youthful spirit today!”

“Lee!” Gai-sensei cries, tears streaming down his face. “You’ve worked so hard in training...I know all your youthful efforts will allow your strength to blossom!!”

“Gai-sensei!” Lee yells back, beginning to cry himself.

“Lee!”

“Gai-sensei!”

She chuckles despite herself. “I’ll make sure to get a lot of good pictures, Okaa-san, Otou-san.”

Her mother catches her face in a soapy hand, thumb stroking over her cheek. Her eyes are impossibly sad, for some reason.

“We love you, Mayu.” She says. “You know that, right?

She smiles. “Of course I know. I love you too. Even more than Luffy loves meat.”

The worry on Okaa-san’s face melts into fondness. She leans forward to plant a kiss on her forehead, then steps aside so Otou-san can wipe the soap off her cheek with a tea-towel and plant a noisy kiss there instead.

Uchiha makes an impatient noise in the hallway, so she and Lee shout their goodbyes as they follow him out of the door.

Lee really likes the camera.

It took him a little bit to work out the settings to keep the photograph from being under or overexposed, but now he’s merrily snapping away at anything that captures his attention.

Which, so far, has included a bunch of pink flowers, a dog, a bird in its nest, a couple of ninja outside a weapon shop, an old lady in a pretty kimono who called him “a very nice boy”, and three babies in matching ninja-themed prams.

“Can you stop that and get a move on?!” Uchiha snaps. “There won’t be any film left at this rate.”

“Ah! Not to worry, Uchiha-kun!” Lee digs around and pulls out three black capsules of the stuff from...somewhere. “Jirou-oji-san was nice enough to insist I take extra!”

Uchiha groans and slaps his hands over his face as Lee catches sight of a curry restaurant and snaps a shot of its sign.

“Aw, lighten up Uchiha. Let him have his fun.” She ribs gently. “Where’s the harm?”

He stops in the street. When she looks back at him, he’s trembling slightly, fists clenched.

“Fun doesn’t make you stronger.” He sneers, “It’s a weakness that sets you up to be killed.”

He strides forward and body-checks her out of the way, stomping off down the road.

She stares after him, more than a little disquieted, scratching at her scar before following.

She stops and stares.

Along the top of the Uchiha compound there are katana, naginata, sai, spears, daggers, arrows, knives, staffs with kunai tied to the top, even what looks like a fishing pole.

All of them have been bound to the top of the exterior wall by copious amounts of black wire and tape, rusting or ornamental blades jabbing at the sky like a hedgehog’s spines.

Lee lifts the camera and snaps a picture.

The rest of their lunchtime group is standing near the entrance to the compound, also gaping at the wall’s spiky additions.

“Ah, Sasuke-kun!” Sakura says. “Um, what’s all this?”

Uchiha scoffs. “I know you’re a civilian, but even you can recognize traps, can’t you?”

“Aren’t traps supposed to be hidden?” Kiba mutters, Akamaru whining on top of his head.

Uchiha pushes open the door, pausing to unhook what looks like several tripwires and other mechanisms. “Even that man wouldn’t be able to get past all of this. He wouldn’t even dare chance it!”

They all begin trooping inside, only for Uchiha to quickly turn and say, “Step exactly where I step if you don’t want to die.”

There’s a veritable web of tripwires crossing the path through the compound, spidering haphazardly up trees and the sides of buildings. Several of the abandoned stores have been rigged with what looks like the sharp things Uchiha couldn’t mount on the wall, alongside what she thinks she recognizes as rudimentary explosives.

Usopp preserve us, she thinks as they gingerly pick their way through the tangle after the last Uchiha, who may have gone off the deep end while they weren’t looking.

Shikamaru mutters “Troublesome,” like an oath.

[goingsllightlymad]

Blinded By Your Light - Part 6. On Changing.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Y/N is the definition of ordinary. Studying at a medical school as far as she can get from her rainy hometown of Birmingham, she never expected to be shipped off the Flanders when the war was at it’s peak. Much less to meet a handsome young patient with the most beautiful pair of blue eyes she had seen in her life who as fate would have it would fall into her lap.

Wordcount: 6415 (I’m busy as hell with studying so I decided to publish the chapter I was writing as two shorter parts, this is the first so calm down that the ending’s pretty shit, I am going to resolve it with the next chapter and it’s allllllll gonna be chill). 

Warnings: poorly written ANGST. You’re all gonna hate hate me for this one, looking directly at you @captivatedbycillianmurphy.

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And so the months came and went through the grey streets of Small Heath like the shadow of some endless night, ebbing and flowing with the tides of time, and for the first time in your life the world did not change at all. Only the warmer days warned you that this long winter could not last forever, and all of a sudden it was over and the days were longer, bright with the flowers that came to the bakery door every morning. You gave them with the bread as you made your rounds past houses where every day the memories came creeping back, softer and sweeter and there was no pain here anymore. And in the evenings there was dancing in the upstairs rooms of the pub, you and Ada and a million dresses laid around the chairs and bed and mirror as you spun and dipped into the ecstatic dream of freedom. You were a child again, and all the world was yours once more and he was not a part of it anymore and that was just fine.

It would be a lie to say that you did not think of him, but it was only in the late nights when it was just you and your candle, looking out over the buildings at the trains as they wound away, a path you didn't take and would spend forever wondering what might have happened if you had. And when the spring fell away to summer you saw again the sunsets on the city that pulled you to the rooftop so many times before, wide-eyes wondering at the world you had not seen, ghosts of former lovers hanging onto your sleeve as you spread your arms like wings to fly away and knew you never could. Never would, because for the first time you could see no world but here outside your windows, and it suited you just fine.

And there was you and Ada, and you and Polly, and sometimes you and John, sitting and having tea in the summer sunlight, chasing round the market in your shawls and coats and painting in your mind all the colours of the apples and carrots and plums like they meant everything in the world to you. No blood, not even in those nights when you could hear the guns ringing through the darkened streets and wondered almost where Small Heath ended and your tortured mind began, the memories of a war half-left behind and somehow never left. You were safe and you were happy, and everything was going to be just fine.

Polly was opening up to you more and more as the winter melted away; by summer she was your mother, clasping your hands in hers and telling you to be wise and brave and sure of all you did, and all your stories were hers to read and note and read again whenever she saw your face and it was strangely comforting to see her everyday the same, even when she knew. She knew you, knew all you did and all you had done, and every time she looked at you there was no fear at all, and you wished for nothing more. Ada had become a friend and then a sister, she came to you at night when she could not bear to be alone with all the gunshots pounding out from their street and you both knew you'd never ask, never force her to tell what was best left unspoken, out of sight and out of mind. And there were the days when you returned to the church and there was John with your father in the little kitchen where the sun never seemed to reach all the way through the window, and you could not remember laughing as much as you did in those afternoons alone together when there was no world at all outside of your window and nothing at all between you and him.

And soon July was ending, and you were sitting in the Garrison as usual, only now the sunlight was warm and calming on your face, streaming in in glorious waterfalls of melted gold through the front windows and bathing you in soft yellow glow. The room was silent, as it often was these days as the three girls sat thoughtfully, staring into your teacups and smiling softly, lethargically. These long summer days brought hot nights, the town shimmering in balmy heat and all the world  a little crazier. There were fights in the evenings, hot blood on hot stone. Each night you hurried home a little earlier to find your away from the bubbling anger of the Garrison, where blood boiled by the bar. There was a storm brewing in the distance, dark and ominous as the clouds of cold autumn rain that hovered now in the early mornings, watchful as the eyes of God, and summer had lasted too long.

At the sound of the door flung open, all three heads jerked up, the comfortable silence shattering instantly as the room was filled with heavy footsteps, the screech of the door where the oil had dried up in the heat of days gone by. Into the room there came a crowd of men in sharp grey suits and the familiar flat-cap, brims glittering and you really meant to ask what there was about it that made you so uneasy.

"And make sure it's done by tomorrow, mind. We're not exactly rolling in spare time."

And there he was, the crowd clearing around him and all you saw was him in front of you, beautiful as the moment you had left and he was so beautiful it took your breath away. And you thought you might cry, your eyes fixed on him and your cup of tea dropped back into its saucer on the table, and then his eyes met yours and suddenly he knew.

"Go." he waved a hand and the men went, just like that, and Ada reached out to touch your arm and you held her hand tight, holding her in place because if you were left here, alone once more with him as though no time had passed at all, you weren't entirely sure what you'd do.

"Tommy," it slipped out of your mouth, a whisper so weak he might not have heard it, but he did and his eyes were so cold. His face hard as stone and crueller still than that cold winter spent without him and without even his letters, promised as they were. The way he looked at you, you thought you might never have met him at all, for in those brilliant blue eyes there was an icy hatred you had never seen before, cold as the grave and unfeeling as he stared you down, willing you to speak or willing you to leave, you knew not which. Looking on at him in the hope of a sign, something small to tell you that this was indeed the same man who had kissed you on the train station, promised you a lifetime you knew he could not give, it tore you apart to know that you did not recognise this man at all.

"(Y/N)." he spoke finally, voice flat and disinterested as if you were just another business proposal that he had no care to consider, the least wonderful thing he had seen all day. He remembered you - for a moment you had wondered if any of this had ever been real, if he simply did not know you at all, and in a way this was so much worse. He knew you, and even you could tell from his detached expression that he did not love you. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Yeah, I gathered." through the agonising sadness that was pounding in your head and in your heart and ripping you into pieces there came a rush of bitterness, anger because hadn't he said that he would write to you until he could find you again, and wasn't he here in front of you now, a little taller and a whole lot crueller than the last time you had met? You let your hand slip out of Ada's and she and Polly stood quietly and disappeared into the backrooms. It was only you and him now, along with all the universe in between.

"So where've yer been?"

"In the hospital. Some of us couldn't leave." you muttered, breaking eye contact and taking in the pub, suddenly aware that where you had been waiting for this one moment since the moment he had left, now you would rather be anywhere on earth but here with him. This was anything but the sweet reunion you had dreamed it to be in all those lonely nights in the hospital and the days when you couldn't help but see his face in every beautiful thing around, and he was anything but the sweet man you had fallen so in love with in those days when you could almost forget that love was there at all, so hateful was the world behind you.

"And now you're back. Funny how the world turns out." he sounded so much like his aunt had, that first day when she was so far from you, reading you like you could fall apart before her, your deepest secrets spilling unto her watchful eyes, and you wondered could he see himself written upon your aching soul the way you could feel it each night, eating you alive? And if you never learned from him, waited for him forever and became only the shreds of how his love had left you on that dreadful day on the platform, would he see that too? Or were you now too far away for him to find you, as you feared he was to you.

"I'm not back for you." but yes you were, and both of you knew it. Your footsteps would always lead you back to him, unknowing as you were as you followed blindly into the pits of destiny's shame. You were here for him, and if you stayed you'd do that for him too. "You'd know if you'd written."

"And why would I do that?"

And there it was, the great and terrible blow that sent you reeling, his voice so harsh it cut into you with all the force his love had never borne for you. You laughed bitterly, and when you looked at him again all you saw was the cold and broken body of a man who had once loved and now could love no more. He never wrote, he never loved, was there anything this man could do? A kinder girl than you might have pitied him, but after everything you had done in these last years you were so much more than kind. You were proud, and you were furious.

"Because there was a part of me that was so sure you loved me." your voice broke at that, and you prayed he wouldn't notice. He did, of course he did, he was Thomas Shelby and he noticed everything he could use to his own gain and suddenly you were realising that, but only after you had become yet another ploy he had slipped into his hands so easily. He had smiled at you and you used to feel special, but now you only felt like prey. You had been sure he loved you, just like you were sure that summer would come once the winter melted away, and that the sun would rise each morning and chase away the night, the simple certainties of nature, but now all you knew was that this winter was going to last a very long time, and the sun would be a long time rising. Outside the Garrison window the sun had passed behind a cloud; the room was quiet and grey, the colour gone away.

"Don't be ridiculous." he grinned like his aunt, cold and cruel and utterly malicious, but there was no softness behind his eyes like you had caught in hers, and it made you shiver despite the warmth of the days. This was not the man you knew, but this was the man you had always feared he might become, for this was the man that you had seen a million times before in the faces as they returned from the war, older now and irrevocably changed.

"More ridiculous than running away and never having the fucking nerve to write so much as one letter to explain?!" your voice was higher, louder than you had expected, thick with furious emotion that threatened to overwhelm you as you stood so close to him, throwing your hands up as you shouted. You took a moment to breathe, in then out, then turned to him slowly, words appearing in your head already steady and emotionless, the worst things you could think and you knew you had to say them now or else you'd see them every time you closed your eyes, taunting and true. "You know, I thought you were a fool, but I never took you to be a coward."

He straightened, squaring up and his jaw locking, and in that moment the last shred of the man you had loved finally fell away, and in the man it left behind you wondered how many people he had killed. He had that easy malice that made you think he'd lost count. "Watch it."

"Or what? Far as I've gathered, you don't care about me at all. Don't see why we should change that, now should we?" you were taunting him now, stepping closer to hiss it against the hot skin of his throat and you could still see the faint lines of scars you'd dressed, out of place as though they were not his past at all, stolen words from someone else's love-story and wasted in his tale of woe. Tommy Shelby was a poet, Thomas Shelby a murderer.

"You shouldn't be here." he gritted his teeth, breathing out through his nose and biting back the anger that was burning through his face and fists and every cell in his body. You were so close he could almost taste the soft, sweet perfume you had always used in those empty days in the hospital when you were the only thing keeping him from going insane, his saving grace and now you were before him and against him and you had never hated him so much before.

"Oh really? And where, pray tell, should I be? Sticking it out in an empty hospital after the war has fucking ended in the hopes that you would write so much as once?!" you tried not to cry, tried not to scream as it hit you all over again that you had stayed there, long after you could have left, could have been done with all the blood and all the torture you put up with for him. War was hell and you had walked through it gladly, past turning back, past reason, because once he'd asked you to and now he only left you there to burn. You stepped back, pushing him hard with one hand and he caught you by the wrist, holding you in place, feeling your heart beating strong and fast and knowing you were real.

"It's not fucking safe here." he muttered under his breath and you wrenched your hand away, turning around and grinning like a madman, all your anger, all the rage that had been boiling in you for all these months alone finally rushing up through your head and into your mouth, thick and sour and burning like the hot summer sun inside you.

"I was in a fucking war! Don't you fucking dare tell me what's safe and what isn't!" now you were screaming, shoving him and swearing like the rest of the house couldn't hear you, or simply didn't matter. All that was gone now, only you and him and how much you could hurt him before he would push back. You couldn't help but think of when you'd loved him endlessly, you and him and, far away, the nurses knowing nothing, and now there was only hate.  

"Oh you were in the war, were you?!" and he was angry, angrier than you had seen him, even in those days when vengeful fate was crushing his broken body in the hospital bed a million miles away. He was burning, the fire behind his eyes brighter than you had ever seen it before, and you wondered if he had ever loved so furiously, so strong it brought the gods to tears and how beautiful he might have been if he had had a heart at all. "Funny, as far as I could see you were just some middle-class university girl playing at doctors and pretending she wasn't just kidding herself she was actually important to someone!"

And then the silence, the awful waiting as you looked at him, tried not to cry as the tears welled in your eyes and he had never been so lovely as he was when you could not see him at all. In the blur of all the pain he sent your way, you could almost kid yourself he was the man you'd thought he'd been. But he was ruthless, he was cold, and you saw it in his eyes that all those medals, all the stories, had made a sense you'd never seen before. The war was won by men like him and all the awful things they did.

"Get out." you could not find the voice within you that you had had before, only the hoarse whisper that shook and broke with that sad hate that you thought would last forever.

"It's my fucking pub!" he threw up his hands. You stood still another moment, breathing deep and shaking with the rage that coursed through you, livid as the summer heat and bright as all those nights alone when you wondered if you would ever see him again. You almost wished you hadn't.

"If I ever see you again, I'll fucking kill you, Thomas Shelby." You reached for the frame of the open door, looking out into the street as you heard him laugh, insidious and dreadful as the winter creeping in, behind you in the pub. Your voice was steady, your words heavy with a truth that both of you could see, and there was not a part of you that doubted that you would, you really would. This town had got to you, and you were not like you were before. Things were so very different. You couldn't help but take one last look at him, praying that he could see what he had made of you and knowing he had eyes only for himself.

"If you think I'm coming after you then you're very much mistaken, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)." and there was that emptiness in his eyes that made you think you weren't going to see him again, and you were just fine with that.

"So dark and brooding. You know, I think I might have loved you for that. But now? Right now I just think you're pathetic. Someday you'll come home and there'll be no one there anymore.  And I think you're fucking terrified. Come after me or don't, just know I won't be waiting." the last words dropped to a choked sob, a curse upon him and upon this whole damned town, pull you together as it was always made to do. Your uncle once told you that when you loved someone, really loved them, every road would lead you back to them, and now all you wanted to do was set fire to every last brick until the whole city went up in flames. If your fate was written, so help you you would find the book and not rest until you had pulled each last word from its cruel pages.

As you stormed out of the Garrison, teeth gritted to try and stifle the tears that pricked at your eyes, you slammed into someone. Apologising and trying to make them out through teary eyes, all you could see was a smudge of blonde hair, a slim figure and a pretty green dress. You rolled your eyes and slid past her. You had spent too long in the neighbourhood to ask her what she was doing here. You thought you'd rather not know.

You didn't entirely know where your footsteps were leading you - not to the church, with its false pity and God still falser, the secrets in the crypts that whispered to you your life was empty, loveless. Nor to the bakery, with your aunt's loving arms and the hatred you would leave at the door. You didn't want to leave it; you wanted to feel it coursing in your blood, hot and true like nothing you had felt for months. It was only when your world came whirling in a rush that you knew it turned at all, and it was only when your heart was pulsing to explode that you know it beat at all. All these months, thinking you were barely alive, but now you knew. You were, and you would remain forever, very much alive and very vengeful indeed.

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Without knowing it entirely, your footsteps lead instead to the Cut, the abandoned warehouses where you had used to hide in years gone by, waiting excitedly for your aunt and uncle as they came home from work in the early evening, baskets of bread and sweets for you as you ran out into their arms. Sitting on the riverbank, looking down into the distorted reflection of your face upon the water, you wondered if you could close your eyes and have it all gone. You had never asked for this, you had never wanted this. Boys, men, the endless heat of this godforsaken city, a grim horizon that you had never seen looming before you, and now here you were at the ends of the world as you knew it and you had nowhere left to go. Leave the town and leave it all unfinished the way you swore you never would again, or stay and fight and know that nothing would ever be quite as good as it was in that other, sweeter, eternity.

The water-line was low, and you slipped off your shoes and stockings, dipping your legs into the river as you shook your hair out of its plait and breathed out. It was calm here, calmer than anything else in this tumultuous city where every silence carried a hundred thousand words you couldn't begin to understand. France was simple, but France was far away, and you knew there was more than just a sea between you now.

You weren't going to cry - not here, not in front of all the world you could not see, waiting in the dockyards because work never stopped in this city of dust and ashes. Instead you threw a stone at the gentle grey water, felt the cool splash against your burning skin, tried to breathe when screaming came so easy, blinked and blinked again as your vision swam in watery uncertainty, felt the emotion draining out of you and fading away into the heat all around. You weren't prepared for this, any of this.

It was childish to expect that nothing would have changed, that you would come back and everything would be the way he had promised it would be from the window of the train as it carried him away. War was nothing more than a bleak and empty promise by men who knew no better way to kid themselves that they would be just fine, and his words could do no better. But what were you meant to do when he was there and he had been so beautiful, and now all you felt was shame. You hated him for everything he said and did, hated him for leaving and for coming back and for being there at all, but most of all you hated yourself for doing what you did. You knew even then that if love were ever real in this land of hate and death, then that was and would ever be the closest you would come.

Wrapped in your fantasies of love and life left behind, you didn't notice the footsteps behind you until they had stopped beside you on the muddy riverbank, the hem of the floral dress swirling in the gentle breeze.

"Rough day." the soft voice you knew, the voice that had got you into this mess because you didn't know when to walk away. There was a time to be brave and a time to call it quits, and you had missed that point a long time ago.

"Jesus Ada, give me some warning." you murmured, more to yourself than to her as she sat beside you. You'd known she would come after you - the whole town must know by now, a million voices in the streets with your name on everyone's lips and suddenly you knew what a fool you'd been to try and keep it secret. This was the last thing that was truly yours and now they knew, now the things you'd carried with you like the last chance you might someday get out of here, spilling out into the river as you grabbed at memories of the way he'd kissed you as he'd left you, the way he'd loved you when you'd thought he really did. This was the worst thing that could happen, and this was the way you dealt with it. You didn't think you had the life within you to run away again.

"I was worried about yer." she was looking at you, but you couldn't quite brig yourself to meet her eyes. Beautiful eyes, so deep and brown, nothing like her brother's at all. She didn't look liker her brother: she looked kind. She looked like she cared, and you knew that was the most dangerous thing of all.

"The whole world is worried about me." You sighed slowly, gazing out across the river at the bird wheeling around the tired beams of the warehouses not so far away. You were tired, tired of secrets and tired of your tiny little life, so big until right now. You'd spent so long thinking you'd never be big enough to fill the aching void of all the lives that you could live, and now the walls were pressing in and suddenly you were big and bad and filled with righteous anger. You were tired of Shelby's and tired of Birmingham and tired of the world beyond the grimy walls because nothing you could ever do would shout louder than the fact that even when you ran away you had never left at all. Everything you did was kept within this damned neighbourhood, and you thought it wasn't any wonder they murdered as they did, because here was Earth and here was Hell, and Heaven was not there at all.

You chuckled bitterly, tears stinging at the back of your eyes, hot with summer rage and the aching in your hands that longed to hit him for what he had done to you and longed for the justice that would come after. The man you loved, he would kill you for sure, for these were men who ruled a world of blood and death and your sweet Tommy was their god. You curled you hand into a tight fist around the smooth rock you held, and threw it into the water just to watch it sink.

"I didn't know." Ada's quiet voice shook you, brought you to her as it always did, and you turned to face her, to see the pity as it overwhelmed her pretty face. She pitied you, the child of pain and fate, she had seen what she had seen and she pitied you most of all, and for all these dreadful things you cried at least for that. What beautiful sins had her brother done that made her so unhappy, made him so damn cold?

"Because I never told you." you shook your head at her. You never told her, you never told a soul, because this was yours and yours alone. Yours to dream and yours to cherish, the one last thing about this goddamn town that no one else could know, the most beautiful moments of your whole life because sometimes you could close your eyes and pretend that he didn't exist at all, that it was all inside your head and the world would never have to know. No one would ever have to know.

"I wish yer'd told me. I could've-" she took your hands desperately, clasping them between her own and begging you, scanning you over like she had never known you at all. You wondered if she really blamed you for never telling her about you, about her brother. She didn't, she wouldn't; she had her secrets and you had yours and the rest of the world had its own, and no one seemed to know anyone these days. Not really, not anymore.

"The damage is done. There's nothing left to say." you slipped your hands out of her hands, smiled at her sadly as she grasped at words to say. There were no words to say, you'd said them all. Your words were crashing in the main room of the Garrison, filling the air until there was not air to breathe, and here the world was empty and you thought she might just catch a glimpse of your darkest soul if she looked hard enough, if she were looking hard enough. With shaking hands you took a cigarette out of your pocket, lit it and took a deep pull and passed it to her, lighting another for yourself.

"You 'aven't said anything at all." she pressed, and you knew she wanted to know a little more, and you also knew she deserved to know a lot more, but truly you weren't ready. She deserved the truth but no one got the truth, not when lies were so much more beautiful and so much more kind. The truth was only for those who had the wealth and confidence to not care what the truth was at all, for soldiers in the trenches and for politicians in their stony towers. It was 1919 and the truth was obsolete.

"I don't think I ever will." your voice was dreamy, and your heart far away. You thought you might have dropped it somewhere in the river that last morning, poured it into your coffee and left it there in the square as his face was already fading. What need had you of a heart if he would not let you love him as you did, if he tore it out and left you bleeding every time he looked your way with those cold dead eyes you loved more than life. There were no words to describe Tommy Shelby, and no feelings with which to do him justice, and even now your petty anger paled before him. It was like shooting at the tides and trying to stop them coming back and back and back to pull you out to sea. At this you drew your legs up out of the water, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around yourself, a little colder than before, despite the bright heat of the morning, a little less certain. You turned away again and blew a trail of soft, sad smoke over the water, and for a long moment there was only the silence of the river and the secrets in between.

"You loved him, didn't yer." It was quiet, almost not there at all, and you caught it through the lull of the water like the whisper of some dream slipping past you as you woke, and like a dream it stopped you in your thoughts, wrapping around your throat and keeping you from saying what you wanted to say. No, of course not. A summer fling, but it had lasted so much more than just one summer. A handful of months, a short eternity, and you thought you might have loved him all your life if you had only known his name. Certainly you had loved him since the moment he had smiled at you, the moment you had seen his eyes, the moment you had left him. You had fallen in love with him a million times, and you had loved him a little more every time.

"Who can ever say. I went to war, Ada. I did what soldiers do. I do what I do to keep myself alive." He kept you sane every single day, he saved you every time you saw his face. He had saved so many, and you had let him save you too, and that was all there was to say. And suddenly you were wondering if all the others fell so sweet, all those pretty girls and angels who he'd write to every day, he promised. You wondered how many knew he never would, and if it made any difference to them. You wished more than anything that you could be the sort of girl who kissed and never told, who could turn around and walk away with all your heart inside of your chest instead of leaving little shattered pieces along the way. Memories of you and him that you thought you must have dreamed up in your lonely mind, because you knew at least he didn't love you know.

"Are you alive?" she frowned at you and you really didn't know what to say. You'd stopped being alive a long time ago, and Tommy Shelby had absolutely nothing to do with it. They used to tell you that it was all some grim lottery, that some would die and some would live and some would spend the rest of their life dying, but no one survived this bloody war, only the horses. Who lived, who died, and everyone died and such was the world and such was the war and such would it always be. There'd be another war and more people would die and you would go on breathing and you'd like it a little less every day, because that was the way you did things when you were only made to die and all the world lived on alone.

"Are you?" you quipped back and put out your cigarette on the jagged stone that jutted out over the river, a road of stone but mostly dirt, tied with blood that ran like veins down the streets, the silvery threads of Tommy Shelby's spiderweb of crime. You turned to her and saw her breathe in and out - how nice to say that she was human when all you were was this tangled mass of broken bones and no soul left at all - and rested your hand on her shoulder to take in all the pallid skin, the emptiness behind. You felt the need to feel every inch of her and know that she was not a name like that sad boy you'd tried to love, she was yours, forever and ever and always, and she wasn't going anywhere.  

"Doesn't matter about me right now, does it." she took a piece of your hair and twirled it in her fingers, leaning your forehead against hers and sighing against your skin, so close that you could taste the sweet perfume on her neck and the smoke that lingered on her tongue, like waking up beside her and knowing she was yours. "I should've told yer. Might've saved us all this trouble."

"It's not your job to keep your brothers in line, Ada." you placed your hand over hers, You were right: it wasn't her job. It was her job to find a nice boy, an honest boy with no blood on his hands, and fall in love with him and get married and get away from here, because no one else seemed to do that here. Something about her told you that she would be the first to have all this and more, and something else told you that she already had. Not for the first time you had the unmistakable feeling that there was so much in her you didn't know. "I appreciate the effort, but I made this mistake. I think I have to figure this one out myself."

"I'm here." she squeezed your hand, twining her fingers with yours and bringing your hand down to your lap. She pulled away a little to look into your eyes, send you a sympathetic gaze that meant nothing more than she would be here when all the world had burned away and nothing else was certain, because she knew that you would do the same, no matter what you did, no matter what her brother had done.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." you grinned lopsidedly at her, taking the chance to stand up and pull her up beside you, smoothing down her dress and leading you down the alleyway with a hand on the small of your back.

"At least let me bring you to the Garrison. Meet the rest of the family, make sure there 'en't any other nasty surprises, eh?" she gave you those big brown eyes that she knew made you melt, and you sighed dramatically, already knowing that you would give in.

"Fine. Just a drink, mind. Think I've 'ad enough of boys for just about the rest of my life." you rubbed your eyes wearily, half to make her laugh and the other half to make her look away from the bright tears that had not quite gone away since the moment you sat down, brushing them away quickly as if you thought she couldn't see them. She caught your hand, swinging it in hers and pressing a short kiss against the back laughingly. Check one, see you cry. You realised that it had been the first time. You realised how drastically okay it felt. 

And there she went ahead of you, and your hand was in her hand, and it was enough to make any pretty girl forget the world of Tommy Shelby, but not you. Not you. 

Taglist: 

@actorinfluence @captivatedbycillianmurphy @stressedandbandobessed7771

[mittensmorgul]

Hello Mittens! Has anyone touched on how Cas could be feeling after finding out Eileen was brought back? Like, is he going to resent her/Sam a little for not bringing back Jack?

Oh gosh, I haven’t seen anyone discussing that specifically.

But Cas looked so concerned about her resurrection. There wasn’t time with Sam’s predicaments (telling Cas about their search for Chuck and Lilith, and Cas having a potential immediate, albeit dangerous, lead that ended up with Sam nearly dying, Cas engaging in a bit of shady negotiation to save his life, and coming away with Sam possibly having hit on a route to the solution to their problems... plus Cas’s interpersonal drama with Dean which is why he returned to the bunker in the first place... first question he asked when he arrived was “Where’s Dean?”... 

heck this started as a parenthetical, but it’s getting too long, so I’m breaking this up. :’D

So Cas seemed ready, since he was the one who walked away, to at least open a dialogue with Dean on his return. Even if it was Cas just laying down his conditions for returning (nothing changes if he takes himself out of the game, so he’s back to help, but they need to resolve their differences, much like Sam and Dean were at back in s9 post-Gadreel... with the whole “we can work together, but as for being brothers... >.>”), he seemed like he was prepared to face Dean right away, you know?

So why was Cas so hesitant by the end of the episode, when Dean finally returned from his “Drive to clear his head” that Sam told him Dean had gone on? Cas had tried to call Dean to tell him about Sam’s crisis, and Dean hadn’t answered. He apparently hadn’t even returned Cas’s call before he showed back up at the bunker and he’d had a six hour drive from Texhoma). Dean didn’t know if Sam was even okay by the time he returned, you know? And Cas would’ve told him that if he’d actually called him back. So Dean hadn’t returned his calls, even when it was directly about Sam’s health. What hope did Cas have, when Cas had been at least partly responsible for Sam being hurt in the first place, you know? Which was the accusation that led Cas to declare it was time for him to move on in the first place...

(yes I remember this was about Eileen, but it’s also about Cas’s state of mind and how he’s confined by the circumstances... this is all relevant to how Cas would feel about anything rn)

So he may have shown up at the bunker ready and willing to talk to Dean, to begin reconciling, but ~everything that happened in the episode~ made him doubt how well received any sort of personal reconciliation might be. Especially in the face of Sam’s revelations about Chuck.

Basically, Cas has backburnered A LOT of emotional stuff in this episode.

INCLUDING Eileen’s resurrection, and what clearly appeared to be some serious questions and possibly reservations about her being alive again. Sam’s “one time thing” comment didn’t seem to appease or encourage him, but again, they have more pressing things to worry about first.

Between the THEN scenes of this episode, and Cas’s reactions, the show seems to be at least putting forth the suggestion that Eileen might only be alive... because of Sam’s connection to Chuck. If the bullet Chuck had described as “intent” before was made of Sam’s soul, and it has created a “bridge” of sorts between them that have been enabling Sam’s visions into Chuck’s process and now even more directly into Chuck’s actual memories while his soul was “stretched” in this episode, what else might be traveling FROM CHUCK into Sam? We know the WOUND created by the Equalizer “goes both ways,” but it wasn’t Chuck’s intent that created the “bullet” that inflicted the wound, and both he and Sam continue to live with a wound from a gun that was supposed to deliver DEATH, and not just an annoying shoulder injury, you know? What has the gun actually fired here? Is that what gave Sam the power to make Eileen’s spirit flesh? Or was it actually Rowena’s spell? We just don’t know.

Even if it was a “one time use” spell, we truly do not know what this means for Eileen. Cas doesn’t know, because he hasn’t been told how Sam brought her back. But he did start with Eileen’s soul, standing right there, on the spot.

The spell wouldn’t have worked for Mary unless she was willing to leave Heaven. It wouldn’t have worked for Kevin unless they’d been able to find him again, and who knows where he is now. It wouldn’t have worked for Rowena because she is (we assume) in Hell. And most importantly for the purposes of your question, it wouldn’t have worked for Jack because he’s in the Empty. This particular spell required the spirit to be right there, you know? And it wasn’t. I mean, can you imagine Sam telling Eileen that no, he won’t use the spell to save her, he’ll just stuff her in the rock like they’d already agreed to, because he might someday need to use the spell for someone else? I mean YIKES.

Also, I suspect that when Jack does come back from the Empty, that it will be similar to how Cas returned from the Empty in 13.04. No spell required.

So... we still don’t know how Eileen has been affected by this spell, or if its results are permanent, or if like every other resurrection ever, there might be some... unexpected consequences...

This line on the superwiki (under the minutiae of the episode page here) is actually giving me some serious concerns:

Eileen still bears the marks and bruising she incurred upon her death in 12.21 There's Something About Mary.

I’m not even sure if that’s true (I try not to study horrifically killed women on this show for my own sake), but the possibility is a bit ominous, you know? It’s giving me unwanted 2.04 and 5.15 feelings that I don’t want to explore too deeply until I have to...

But Cas seems to have some similar reservations. I mean, everything could be fine in the end, but this is what has me worried right now. I don’t think his reservations will have anything to do with resentment that Eileen is alive and Jack still is not...

But I also think that will be in part at least because I am still thinking Cas... won’t be on Earth to be resentful of anything after the next episode...

Plot is about to barrel through all our current open questions like this, you know? Midseason finale, and a lot of our current open questions will be swept off the table, as usually happens in midseason finales. So I don’t even know that it’s something that will ever become an issue. I’m waiting to see the state of things after 15.08 airs, because things tend to look very different going into the back half of a season (and I don’t even know what to expect since this is the final season and I can’t even look back at patterns of the past to make guesses, you know?) We’re just gonna have to wait this one out. :’D

Ooh, a couple more things... we learned in this episode about the “Key to Death,” which apparently unlocks ta door to Billie’s library. I don’t know specifically what they might need in Billie’s library, but Dean has already been there once. If nothing else, it might be a less traumatic way to get in touch with Billie when they need her than Dean’s usual summoning method of killing himself... >.> Or we may never hear about it again... (but I doubt it).

Which reminds me that Billie herself might have concerns about Eileen’s surprise aliveness, but again, there’s bigger issues at the moment. And we’re 7 episodes in and STILL don’t have any idea what’s going on in the Empty, with Billie and the Shadow and Jack, which I think will render all the rest of these “who’s dead and who’s resurrected” speculation moot as soon as we see what they’re actually up to there. Or at least it’ll give us better questions to ask ourselves. :’D

[bigskydreaming]

What kind of house/apt do adult successful Scanny have?

I think it would be something smallish and unassuming on the outside, very approachable. Maybe even like, a townhome or a duplex or something like that, depending on what city Scott ultimately settles in with whatever pack he builds up around him there vs whomever stays in Beacon Hills.

I don’t have any specific headcanons for where Scott relocates to, its just very important to me that he does, because like. He deserves to get far, far away from Beacon Hills. There are too many bad memories there. Its where he died. Its where Allison died, Boyd, Erica. Like, all the bad things that linger with Scott came from Beacon Hills and that damn evil attention-seeking tree stump, and all the good things that linger with Scott are one hundred percent the product of his own actions and the relationships he fostered with the people that became important to him. 

There’s nothing in Beacon Hills that gives Scott anything he doesn’t already have by this point, no reason for him to stay other than his mother, who can literally just move as well. But not with Chris Argent. On account of like, well he died too. It was very sad and tragic, I don’t want to talk about it. Tears were shed, its all still really fresh and raw, we should probably just move on. Its what he would want. Probably. Also who cares, ding dong he’s dead and Melissa’s married to some nice doctor who’s never pulled a gun on her son, as well as possessing other qualities that meet somewhat higher standards, I’m sure.

Anyway. We were talking about Scott saying hasta la vista baby to Beacon Hills followed then by a slow motion dramatic walkaway shot before he gets on his motorcycle, adjusts his mirrors, revs the throttle all action movie star-esque, and also sexily -  look, they’re not always automatically the same thing -  and then he drives away forever from that toxic cesspit of a homicidal zipcode where square footage is calculated in terms of dead bodies. Leaving behind all the like, million and one reasons for him to say Bye Beacon Hills, see you never, try not to become a central locus for evil, but also, I don’t care if you do, it is hashtag NotMyResponsibilityAnymore. But also, I mean. It never was. Just FYI.

And then he flips the town off and accelerates off into the sunset while the town eats his dust, and admittedly Scott isn’t really the type to throw around middle fingers even where deserved, but fuck it, I’m projecting onto him and its my headcanon and I say that pile of excrement in real estate form needs to be flipped off and also, like. Its just an aesthetic thing. For the visuals. Its the whole dramatic end scene, roll credits, “I came, I saw and I blew shit up and now I’m off to reunite with my love interest and have vigorous victory sex” vibe. You get it.

So they relocate somewhere, wherever that is. I honestly don’t care, so long as its nice and doesn’t murder them or inflict gratuitous bodily harm every week and the nearest Satanic foliage is at least two statelines away. Preferably with a thriving supernatural community where Scott and his pack can all feel welcome and like they belong, rather than outsiders eternally hiding in plain sight among potential enemies. Like, somewhere where their neighbors are all vampires and Fae and other supernaturals, but only so long as like, the only reason they ever come over is to borrow a cup of sugar. Never to betray them to randomly resurrected enemies or guilt trip them into solving someone else’s centuries old and completely pointless grudgematch of Unnecessary Drama and Also Doom.

And wherever it is, the pack have their own dwellings and much needed privacy. Far enough apart that even supernatural hearing and smell don’t have them all playing Peeping Tom whether they like it or not, every time a couple wants to get frisky, but close enough together that they’re all still together, and know that more pack, more community, is always just a short walk away.

Scott and Danny’s place is some sort of small but cozy townhome or duplex or something like that, as I said. Scott’s always very aware of his presence and reputation and the power he both commands and also is afforded by peoples’ embellished expectations regarding him. So it was really important to Scott, and thus important to Danny, that their home be unpretentious. Inviting and approachable and not ‘above’ anyone else, or trying to be. Somewhere that when you got to their street and checked the address if you’re new in town and looking for an audience with True Alpha Scott McCall, you stop and do a double take and almost have to revise whatever preconceptions you have, or at least put them on hold, because like…this is where the famous True Alpha lives? Its so…ordinary.

But that’s the point after all….because the more he was looked at as standing apart from all others, the more ‘ordinary’ became the only thing Scott’s really ever aspired to be.

So its not poor, by any means. They do well for themselves, the whole pack, like you said, Scott and Danny are successful in this future. They have jobs that afford them both a sense of purpose and fulfillment of longheld interests, as well as the potential for discovering more, rather than getting locked into things that grow stale overtime as they outgrow fantasy careers that seemed more validating when they were kids dreaming of the future.

Also their jobs, whatever they might be, make them at least successful enough that it allows them both a large degree of autonomy. They can pick their own schedules, more or less. They have finances, but none that will be massively disrupted or stress-inducing if Scott has to take time off for a couple weeks to help a neighboring pack relocate somewhere new after they flee from hunters. Something where Scott’s never forced to choose between his job and keeping him and his pack financially afloat, versus someone needing his help and it not immediately apparent how long that might take resolve. The dream is stability and comfort, and enough personal agency for Scott in how and where he gets both of those, that he never feels like he’s letting down either his pack or innocents asking for his help, because the demands of his job or finances make him feel like it has to be one or the other, he can’t possibly do both.

Ideally, that flexible schedule means that when Scott isn’t helping others, something he now does by choice and simply because he wants to and he can, not because he’s made to feel he has to, like its his responsibility and his alone, because certain boundary-blind best friends have decided they want to play Peter Parker but are gonna need Scott to step up and play the actual Spider-Man part and lend his power even when someone else gets to decide for him when its his responsibility. Oopsie, I tripped and fell and my Bitter Resentment and Still Not Over It slipped out. Oh no. How terrible. Much woe.

Ahem. Anyway. As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted by myself, Scott’s flexible schedule means that when he’s not using it to help others, he has enough left over that he can afford (and justify to himself) using it for himself and his own personal enjoyment and interests, actually prioritize and commit to his own self-care, because a healthy, happy Alpha is a healthy, happy Pack. Someone said that once, probably. Probably not Hobbes. Definitely heard that somewhere though. Trust me, I’m a doctor. 

So with the aid of this newfangled invention produced by cutting edge technology, this quote unquote “Free Time…”  Scott explores other interests. His own. Le gasp, le shocking, le about the fuck time. He explores the novelty of being able to even have hobbies, because depressingly (why am I like this, science side of tumblr), there was once a time when Scott stopped bothering trying to figure out what all he was interested in, because he kinda assumed he’d be long dead before it ever had a chance to matter.

But by the power invested in me by Fuck You, Jeff Davis, in this future, none of that comes to pass. So free time and personal passions for Scott. He has them, in abundance. So like. He gardens, for sure. That’s why I specified a duplex or townhouse instead of an apartment in a complex or building….they live somewhere where they at least have their own garden or yard. Scott designs and implements it personally, something like his own personal Zen garden on a scale commensurate with What He Deserves. He goes outside whenever he’s starting to feel stressed about some obligation or commitment or another, and just….plays. 

That’s what it is to him. He just plants things. Prunes things. Adds fountains or bird feeders or statuary, little personalized touches here and there that make his own personal territory uniquely his and his alone. Gardening in his yard is His Time in His Space, and all the pack know better than to interrupt him when he’s out in his yard working away, unless its an absolute emergency. 

Danny enforces this with an iron fist and an ability to tank your credit score and spread all your most embarrassing pictures internet-wide with just a single keystroke. And Danny is the enforcer Scott doesn’t have to be. People forget that everyone loves Danny….but in no small part due to his usual proximity to Jackson. Next to Jackson, everyone looks like an angel. But Danny, on his own? Can be mean. Will be mean, if you touch or hurt or threaten or even just inconvenience his man, because like, who the fuck do you think you are and also it doesn’t even matter because he just replaced your whole identity online and if you’re nice and apologize and kiss ass without Scott ever having to know What You Almost Did, maybe Danny will have mercy on you and actually let you know what your new identity is, so you can use it to like, make a new life with the details he made up to replace your old personal info that no longer gets you anywhere. 

Danny - that’s Miss Nasty if you mess with his husband - is chaotic neutral with an exception for “this is my list of special people. Touch any of them and my alignment is Chaotic Evil for however long as until I have personally escorted you to your Doom and physically kicked you into a bottomless pit where you will suffer for eternity.” 

But then he smiles and charms everyone into only remembering lol oh yeah, everybody likes Danny, so that once again, everyone forgets that’s at least partially self-preservation because if you don’t love Danny and everyone Danny loves, like, you’re dumb and also screwed. Why are you bad at making good choices. 

Don’t feel bad though. Danny’s very good at making people forget this part, t least until the next time he reminds people of that little piece of trivia. Have you seen him smile? Its like that flashing bulb thing Will Smith uses in Men in Black to make people forget what they just saw or were doing. Except without any supervision and/or morality because fuck your ethics, its Danny’s bewitching smile, he’ll use it however he wants. Get your own.

(The thing is, any best friend of Jackson has to have at least a little capacity for Evil. Danny just hides it well, thanks to the cloaking camouflage of Actually Having a Soul in Addition, and like, being a people person who actually understands how people work and how not to alienate them by being a total uncaring jackass 24/7. Its a fine line, except its really not, and Danny is very talented at all things and possesses an abundance of charm. Plus he’s just hot, and like. Let’s face it. That always helps. I mean, definitely never hurts).

The end result of all this tangent-having, is that Scott has enough him time and enough of a barrier from people constantly distracting him, that the exterior of Scott and Danny’s place, for all its otherwise ordinary appearance, Scott has over time turned into his own personal slice of paradise, and is exactly what that looks like to him. 

See, the thing about Scott is no matter how hard he tries to be ordinary and value being just like everyone else and get lost in the crowd…..he never will quite manage it, because Scott just isn’t like anyone else. He’s good, in a way that too few people even aspire to be, because so many people just think its not possible. Especially not after having lived through the kinds of traumas Scott has, been dealt an especially unlucky hand. But Scott manages it anyway, in spite of everything, spiting every thing that tries to make him be anything lesser….and because of that, he’ll always stand at least a little apart from the crowd, be a little distinct from the rest, impossible to ever fully be lost or muted by any crowd of any size.

And the little slice of the world Scott makes just his and Danny’s, no one else’s. He doesn’t even need to share it with his pack without it being any less inviting to his pack for all that. It reflects this understated aspect of Scott, this impossible to quantify essence of him that he himself is too unassuming to ever fully realize is there, and everyone else just accepts without questioning…because they’ve learned by now when you’re given a gift, just accept it and appreciate it.

So in structure and layout, their home is nothing special, but amidst a neighborhood of similar structures, it pops all the same. It draws the eye without dominating your vision. It makes you want to look at it, want to come closer, want to be around it, much like the man who designed it. Who made it, cares for it, and never neglects it or takes it for granted. Its always green, year round, and filled with a variety of flowers that come from all over the world but can all complement each other and coexist without endangering any of the neighboring plants. None of them overgrowing the garden or in any way being at any of the other plants’ expense. 

They’re like Scott’s pack in that way….of all shapes and sizes, coming from all around the world, of all kinds of types, not even just limited to werewolves. All beautiful, all unique, all existing in harmony. Even though Scott’s never shared this with anyone else, in his mind, each flower or plant he adds to his garden represents one specific member of his pack. Its Theirs, its what he associates with them. In this way, they’re all represented, it reminds him whatever conflict arises internally, its nothing they can’t ultimately all work out without compromising any single individual. And with each plant needing its own special attention and time devoted to cultivating it and caring for it, they serve as proxies for the pack members they represent.  

Due to this, Scott can tell himself with just a glance at his garden - reassure himself, whenever his self-doubts get the better of him and he starts to beat himself up for not being there enough for someone or neglecting someone or not doing better - but with his garden, just going outside and checking it over can remind Scott that he’s not neglecting anyone. Because every time he tends to the plant that represents a pack member, Scott reflects on that pack member as he does so. Just going over what they’ve been up to, mentally checking in on them, casting about to see if he’s noticed any sign something’s been bothering them, making sure to spend one on one time with them. 

He can’t tend to a plant without associating it with their linked pack member….and in this way, as long as he can look around and take in with a glance the sight of his garden, all carefully tended to, no plant neglected, all watered and pruned and harmonious and appreciated….and it serves as a visual reminder with which to reassure himself….he’s not forgetting anyone, overlooking anyone. Nobody’s being neglected, he’s always thinking about his pack and keeping their best interests at heart and if any problems do pop to mind while he’s tending to one of his plants or flowers, of course that would be the first thing he’d make a plan to go check in on and address personally, once he’s making his rounds later and having a little face time and conversation with his various packmates.

Of all the flowers and various plant types in his garden, there’s only one fruit….a single eye catching and lovingly attended orange tree. That’s Danny. They’re his favorite, and orange is his favorite color. There’s just something unique about it. Especially in the midst of so much green.

The flowers nearest the front door and around the external structures of the building, a pillar underneath the small, roofed-in entrance way, perhaps, a gate at the front of the property, next to the driveway, maybe a trellis along the wall just next to the door…..the flowers adorning and framing the entrance to their home are a carefully arranged spray of seven different hues. 

A literal rainbow, advertising this House and All Who Live Here Be Gaaaaaaay.

Scott’s always had a sly, understated sense of humor. Mischievous, but not usually at anyone’s expense, and subtle enough that most people don’t tend to credit him with having much of a sense of humor. He does though….he’s just never needed words to express it.

Advertising himself and his personal pride with a literal year round rainbow that’s still subtle enough that most people don’t clue into its layered meaning or implications without being told. Later in life, stable and safe and more centered, Scott gets a pretty big kick out of how often people fail to see what’s right in front of them. Him living his best life on his own terms and not even being shy about it….and if other people can’t connect the dots on their own….its a pity, Scott muses with a mostly internalized laugh, that most people are just in too big a hurry or too eager to take things at face value to truly see what their surroundings look like and are full of.

Danny gets the joke, and thinks its hilarious how few other people figure it out. But that’s mostly just because Danny can be kind of a dick. He’s sorry not sorry. Its not his fault people are dumb. RIP to 90% of humanity, but he has braincells.

He and Scott complement each other well.

Similarly, just as Scott’s personal space is outdoors, natural, and helps him feel part of the world, feel part of nature, connected to it and in harmony with the natural order of things and not something completely separate….Danny’s personal space is indoors, the extra room converted entirely into his personal office or Batcave. Filled with monitors and screens and hard drives, a Hacker’s Paradise that keeps Danny plugged into the grid, manmade tools and his own cultivated expertise giving him the world at his fingertips. Any needed information or a satellite view of something happening with allies on the other side of the world is just a few clicks of a mouse away.

He’s also got every video game console known to man, because Danny’s Me Time is kicking ass on whatever game the latest redditor or twitterbaiting bigot to catch his ire is high-ranking on. 

And if he also happens to use his gameplay as an opportunity to backdoor into said Wankstain’s systems and do whatever needs doing to make his life and those of all his enabling social circle’s a living hell and a lesson in empathy that comes too late cuz nobody has any for them because they suck and are Satan….

Well. Sucks to be them, and also, what kind of moron makes enemies while online gaming without first erecting even a nominal defense against Superior Intellects who might feel like retaliating against his jokes, that aren’t really jokes so much as the synaptic misfiring of racist braincells and proof that sometimes, evolution shits out a turd?

“That sounds like victim blaming,” Scott notes in an absent kind of tone when watching over his husband’s shoulder one day. Not really judgmental so much as just something to say.

“You say victim blaming, I say pest control,” Danny hums unapologetically. “Sides, can’t be victim blamed if you’re not a victim, and you can’t be a victim if you’re really just a human-shaped mistake who has no redeeming qualities, an online presence that’s the virtual equivalent of bad BO with no medical cause for an excuse, and a social media history that makes a strong case for your best possible contribution to society being a qualifier for a Darwin Award. Would you blame a cockroach for getting itself stepped on by stepping out into the light? I mean, you could, I guess. Just doesn’t seem terribly productive if you ask me.”

“Why do you hate cockroaches? They’re living creatures who never did anything to you, why would hurt them by comparing one to this guy?” Scott asks, because that’s really the more important part of the conversation.

“Dunno,” Danny shrugs. “I’m sure I could find some way to blame it on childhood trauma if you really need an answer.”

“No, just wondering if you’re gonna be done in time for dinner. I’m making tortellini.”

“I’ll be done in ten minutes, I swear. And ready to eat like a metaphor that’s more appropriate to you. Righteous vengeance really works up an appetite.”

“Uh-huh. Just out of curiosity, who exactly are you righteously avenging at the moment?”

“Humanity? Good taste? God, who couldn’t possibly have foreseen this free will thing would go so very wrong? That poor defunct condom that tried its best but in the end, just wasn’t up to the task of keeping this shithead from being unleashed unto the Earth? I dunno. Do I have to pick just one?”

Not really. As stated, Scott’s not actually judging anymore than Danny’s trying to hide this from him. They’re both in total agreement about the kind of people Danny cyber-vigilantes. They just have different approaches about how they should be handled. Scott, while not violent by choice for the most part, does tend to favor the direct approach. He just feels its right that a person know why exactly he thinks they’re a terrible person who deserves what they get. So he tends more towards the approach of: punch a bigot in the face, wait for a second for a whiff of remorse or sign someone might be suddenly reevaluating life choices, because he’s Scott and hope springs eternal, but when no such revelation comes, just shrugging and walking away. Oh well. He tried. Sorta. Well, kinda.

Danny, in contrast, prefers to go for the jugular and leave no hint of who or what might have been behind the all-encompassing full frontal assault that hits every online trace of his target’s miserable and miserly existence. It keeps them paranoid and this keeps him sated. Plus, his stance is when they don’t know what exactly earned them an enemy of his caliber, it forces them to reflect or at least call to mind every thing they can think of doing wrong to someone that might result in that someone hating them this much.

The ironic thing of course is Danny doesn’t even really hate them, because that implies a level of giving a shit he can’t ever quite seem to muster. He mostly just thinks they suck and should suffer for that. And he gets bored a lot. 

Look, his husband and fellow werewolves are off saving the world every other week and being all kinds of kick-ass and action adventure movie-star types in the process. A guy sitting behind at home all the time has to get his jollies somehow. Also, he’s compiled a very engaging soundtrack to accompany his personal heroic undertakings, and it does wonderful things for his self image. Danny’s all about that self-care.

Plus, the first time he and Scott had something of a disagreement on their approaches, Danny unapologetically stated that loving him meant loving his vindictive side, because he personally was quite fond of it and thought it was really something of a Look. Also, making that Look into a Thing might be something of a dealbreaker for him, because he really didn’t want to undersell his capacity to be petty, and how little shame he felt about having said capacity. His essential life philosophy boils down to sometimes people just suck and somebody needs to say so. Maybe by draining their bank account and redirecting the funds to an ironically relevant charity.

“Fine,” Scott had conceded with a sigh. “Just be careful about making enemies like this, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

(That was really his only real concern all along. He’s a Nurturing Nelly. Scott can’t help but be a worry wart when his husband roams the internet highways under a masked IP address, taking on bandits and bigots all willy nilly, with not a bit of concern for himself. Its their biggest common ground, and Danny doesn’t have claws or a killer bite to protect himself with. A bite fetish, maybe, but that’s not quite the same thing, and also neither here nor there, and also also, he would like to plead the fifth while reminding you he can access and pull up your full porn-browsing history if you’d like to press that line of conversation further. Pervert).

Anyway, alls well that ends well, and thus Danny couldn’t help but be charmed at the reminder that his hubby is a man with clear priorities and his biggest is always gonna be the safety of his loved ones. Aww, sweetums.

“Aww, sweetums,” he said, just to see Scott squirm, because the more unexpected the endearment, the more Scott doesn’t know how to take it. And a squirmy Scott is an adorable Scott, Danny has always felt, and he is a man who appreciates his eye candy, as well as a go-getter who knows what he likes and goes and gets it, even if that means playing dirty. Especially if that means playing dirty. Danny likes dirty. 

After all, dirty men need to shower, and showering together conserves water, and having sex while showering together is just a solid application of having eyes, a hot husband, and a healthy libido. It just makes good sense. He’s goal-oriented and a linear thinker, what do you want, leave him alone. He’s valid and you’re just jealous.

Still, exotic endearment applied, he’d then followed up with:

“How dare you accuse me of being so bad at the thing that I am most skilled at that you imply I’m even capable of ever leaving digital tracks like a total N00b. What do I look like to you? A 4chan poster who just figured out how to spoof their GPS for the first time?” 

Danny rolled his eyes, exaggerating his wounded pride. It was the principle of the matter, and he was very principled. Sometimes. Kinda. If principles mean whimsy and whimsy means shh, don’t interrupt me, I’m doing bad things to bad people and this is very important work that must be savored or you really don’t get the full oomph of the revenge-gasm. Yes, he said revenge-gasm and he meant it. No he will not elaborate. Imagination is free.

“Ten points from Gryffindor for your low opinion of me, your valued and valuable life partner. Also, no sex for you, until…..okay maybe that’s too far. You seem like you’ve learned your lesson.”

“You’re too merciful,” Scott had said drily. 

“Nobody’s perfect,” Danny had said lackadaisically. “Also, not to disrespect your tortellini-making expertise, but any chance we can put a pin in dinner until after we go have wild, passionate sex? This pending revenge-gasm is making me horny and I really hate to waste a good head of moral crusading.”

“That was a terrible pun.”

“I have never made a pun in my life, how dare you, my sense of humor is sophisticated. I’m not a peasant, Scott. And where did we land on the sex.”

“Didn’t we just do it this morning?”

“I have needs, Scott.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“And water is wet. I don’t see the relevance. Also, if you don’t want me jumping you 24/7, you have no business being so hot. Its your own damn fault, deal with it.”

“There you go with the victim-blaming again.”

“I’ll do five Hail Marys after I finish doing sinful things to you and racking up another five. Its more efficient to tackle them all at once.”

“Not sure that’s how that works, babe.”

“Eh, guess I’ll just go to hell then. Still worth it. Still your fault. Oh look, I’m naked all of a sudden, how did that happen?”

Scott sighs. “What am I going to do with you?”

“R is for Ravish me, if you’re really looking for suggestions. I can probably do the whole alphabet if you need. Or just do me. Whichever.”

Scott cut off further melodramatic peacocking with a kiss.

Things proceeded to a total media black out from there. Further voyeuristic attempts at seeing the Alpha and his mate get down, get down, would necessitate the invocation of the cautionary tale of the last pack member to not properly respect the sanctity of the inner sanctum of the Vindictive Master of Digital Identities and Other Important Details. His name is Chester, middle initial A., surname with a phonetic similarity to certain orifices. That wasn’t always his name, but it was once Danny got done with him, and that was only after Scott gave him the Pointed Stare of One Who Will Look More Benevolently On Those Who Demonstrate Both Mercy and Restraint.

Tis very much a tale of woe, as Chester is 6′5″, 260 lbs of visually intimidating werewolf muscle, and facial features that when accompanied by choice words and phrases, rather does call to mind certain similarities to certain orifices.

Like I said. Danny is very good at what he does. And everybody loves Danny.

….Aside from all other motivating reasons, its just a good idea in general. 

Y’know.

Practically speaking.