#and killed assassins for him. sat outside his room to listen to anyone who might break in. and then faked his death in order to avoid havin

[starry-bi-sky]

Hi uhh I really love your Damian and Danny siblings short. I wonder if uhh will you add a more connected story.

Also how did the mirage happen and is it only Bruce and Damian who saw it?

thank you! And honestly I might add a more connected story (i posted a miscellaneous post about the danny from that post because I was still thinking about him). The more I think about it though, yeah probably? I'd like to explore that reunion between Danny and Damian at some point. Plus Danny's experience in Amity Park and his growth from there.

The post was meant to be more of a prompt for other people to take inspiration from and add their own ideas onto, so the mirage was something I kept purposely vague so that people could come up with their own theories about it. But for my take on it? Magic user in Gotham that they got in a fight with. It was a physically visual mirage so anyone who was in the room could've seen it, and it was capable of being picked up on the cameras in their mask/cowls (which i hear is a thing sometimes) so it can be replayed back in the cave.

[comfortbucky]

hey hey! can u do some fluffy bucky about having to share a hotel room w u and there’s only one bed!!!! and he’s trying to be respectful n stuff but man does he have the fattest crush on u! thank u <333

HEY HEY YES OMFGGG THE ONE BED TROPE (ur mind😌🤝)

i’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE I DIDN’T EXPECT IT TO COME SO SOON

𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗱, 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗼𝘁𝘀 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚

pairing: bucky x fem!avenger!reader

tags: enemies(?) to lovers BABYYYY, angst, fluff

A/N: i almost always write about tfatws!bucky in mind but let me try and branch out by writing about avenger!bucky hehe

i hope u enjoy🥺💗i absolutely loved this prompt and loved writing this!!!! (it is almost 4am for me as i am posting this :) i’m insane :))

this oneshot will not be following the canon timeline!

word count: 2k

my masterlist!

completed requests!

“Stick to the plan, Y/N.” Steve’s voice came through over the intercom. She rolled her eyes at his warning. He always seemed to be extra cautious with her, making her feel like an unimportant member of the team, and this mission was no different.

“I got this,” she said, completely ignoring his request and charging headfirst at the enemy. Her brash decision resulted in her receiving a heavy beat down, ending up with a split lip and fractured ribs.

Needless to say, Steve was pissed. He and Y/N developed a close friendship over the years, during his search for Bucky. She was oftentimes the one who would stay up all night with him, looking for any trace of Bucky’s existence online. She’d become one of the closest people in his life, which is exactly why he was upset with her, endangering her own life.

After the mission, he confronted her at the base camp.

“You could’ve gotten killed!”

“But I didn’t,” she snapped back. “And the mission was a success anyways, so I don’t get why you’re so mad right now.”

Steve closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“It’s reckless behavior like this that’s eventually going to get you killed, Y/N.”

Bucky walked into the room and immediately regretted his decision as soon as he laid his eyes on Y/N. He’d come to foster an animosity towards her, after seeing her close friendship with Steve. After Bucky joined the Avengers, he noticed how much time they spent together, and jealousy started to fester within him. Steve was the only person he felt comfortable being around in the tower and she constantly took him away from Bucky. Everyone else seemed to have an aversion to him, or so he assumed. He never gave anyone the chance to get to know him, locking himself up in his room most hours of the day. Bucky didn’t think anyone would want to get to know an ex-assassin, especially one that killed the Tony Stark’s parents. She was the one thing that kept Steve away from him and he despised it. So Bucky did what he did best and avoided any sort of interaction with her.

Steve looked at Bucky and suddenly, an idea popped in his head. He had noticed how closed-off Bucky had been since joining the Avengers and refused to let Y/N be alone, worried that she might make another brazen decision. He hatched a plan to kill 2 birds with 1 stone.

“Bucky,” Steve said, making his way over to him. “You and Y/N will be assigned to the same room tonight.”

Bucky choked on his own spit in response and Y/N began to protest.

“You’re not serious, right?” Steve turned to face her with a stern expression.

“You’re not giving me any reason to trust you to be alone.” She let out a defeated sigh and crossed her arms across her chest.

“Why me?” Bucky asked, trying to figure out how he ended up in this situation.

Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and looked into his eyes. “Because I trust you, Buck. I need you to do this for me.”

Bucky could see the desperation in Steve’s eyes and reluctantly nodded.

Steve was able to obtain another key card to the hotel room that Y/N was assigned to for the mission. He forgot to take into account the logistics of the sleeping arrangements, leaving Bucky to find a single bed as he entered Y/N’s room.

Bucky froze, his right hand on the door handle, keeping it open, his left hand by his side, holding his duffel bag. He racked his brain, trying to figure out what to do, when Y/N’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Relax,” she started, motioning for him to come inside. “I’ll sleep on the floor, alright?”

Y/N knew that Bucky didn’t like her, despite Steve trying to convince her otherwise. It hurt her feelings a bit, especially after she’d learned so much about him through both Steve’s stories and the time she spent tracking him down. He was such an important person to Steve, her close friend, and Bucky hated her. At first, she figured he was shy and wasn’t ready to open up to anyone else, especially after all the trauma he endured. But she realized he actively disliked her over time, with Bucky always leaving the room when she entered or ignoring her offers to hang out with her and Steve. Eventually, she gave up on reaching out to Bucky, as she only seemed to upset him further, no matter what she did. She figured it was for the best.

Bucky stepped into the room and shook his head.

“Bed’s too soft for me anyways, I’ll take the floor,” he grumbled.

Y/N shrugged in response, knowing that Bucky would be too stubborn to try and argue against. She turned around and picked up the phone, calling the front desk to ask for extra blankets and pillows. When she hung up the phone, she turned back to Bucky to see him nod in thanks.

The rest of the night was silent, as they both prepared for bed, taking turns going into the bathroom to wash up and change. While Y/N was in the bathroom, Bucky arranged the extra blankets and pillows into a makeshift bed on the ground, something that he’d done countless times before. Y/N exited the bathroom in an oversized t-shirt that covered her shorts, and placed her toiletries bag in one of the hotel dresser drawers.

“Bathroom’s all yours.” Bucky grunted in response, grabbing some clothes and a bag headed for the bathroom.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he stated, just before shutting the door behind him. Y/N scoffed at his comment, gently climbing into bed, in an attempt to not further injure her ribs. She winced as she tried to get into a comfortable position before settling to sleep on the side of her unaffected ribs.

Bucky emerged from the bathroom to see Y/N lying on her left side, her back towards him. He assumed that she had already fallen asleep and quietly crawled into his makeshift bed.

Approximately 10 minutes had passed, when he heard her sniffling. At first, he thought the noise was coming from outside the window, but he traced it back to her. He remained lying on his back for a moment, deciding whether or not to say something. Bucky sighed before speaking.

“You okay?” Y/N immediately stiffened upon hearing Bucky’s voice. She was hoping that he wouldn’t hear her crying, despite his super soldier hearing abilities.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” she replied back, her voice wavering as she spoke. Y/N hated how weak and pathetic she sounded in that moment. Her fractured ribs made it hard for her to breathe and the adrenaline, that was previously shielding her from the pain, had faded, leaving her to lie there in agony. On top of that, she also felt that this mission solidified her belief that Steve had little faith in her ability to be an Avenger. The last thing she wanted to do right now, was to confess her insecurities to Bucky.

Bucky’s attitude softened, hearing Y/N’s voice crack when she spoke. He knew she’d gotten hurt due to her own, dumb, decision during the mission. Bucky quietly pulled his blankets off and stood up, leaving the room without saying another word. As soon as the door shut, Y/N burst into tears. Bucky did exactly as he’d done in the past many times before, leave. She wasn’t sure why this time upset her more than the rest. Probably because she knew that he was aware of her crying and he’d still chosen to abandon her completely.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, causing her to stop crying. Y/N listened to Bucky’s footsteps growing closer, and felt the bed dip under his weight as he sat on the edge she was facing towards. She peered over the blanket she was covering her face with, to see Bucky facing her, holding a bag of ice, wrapped in a towel. Bucky’s heart sank at the sight of her glossy eyes and tear stained cheeks in the moonlight.

“For your ribs,” he spoke softly, gesturing to the ice bag in his hands.

“Oh. Thank you.”

Y/N took the bag from him, attempting to slowly sit up. She closed her eyes as she grimaced, and suddenly felt a hand on her back, helping her up. Her eyes opened to reveal Bucky, with a soft smile on his lips. She silently thanked him again, placing the ice bag on the right side of her ribcage.

“Thought you hated me,” she mumbled, keeping her gaze down on her lap. He furrowed his brows, keeping his eyes on her.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Well, you definitely don’t like me.”

Bucky paused at her comment, thinking about his next words, before responding.

“I don’t like that you take up all of Steve’s free time,” he grumbled, causing Y/N to quickly look up at Bucky, his eyes averting her gaze. Her face fell, immediately realizing why Bucky had treated her so coldly all this time. He just missed his friend.

“I’m so sorry, Bucky.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked up at her in response. “I didn’t realize, I’m sorry.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t expecting her to be so kind and understanding, even coming up with multiple points to argue back at her. He realized then that he didn’t know her at all, but that he wanted to now. In an instant, she became an entirely different person. He studied her eyes and wondered if they had always sparkled like that, if her cheeks were naturally rosy, or if her lips had always been so pink and plump.

His expression softened and he cleared his throat. “It’s fine,” he muttered, tearing himself away from her gaze to look down at his lap. After a moment of silence, Bucky stood up to return back to the floor.

“Stay.” The words left Y/N’s mouth before she had time to process them. Bucky froze and turned to face her. “I mean, if you want to, of course. Just figured the floor must be super uncomfortable for you.” Y/N felt a blush creep up onto her cheeks and kicked herself mentally. She looked down at her hands, regretting the words she spoke, before feeling the bed dip again. She looked up to see Bucky. He smiled and she almost melted at the sight.

She shifted over, putting the ice bag on the nightstand, as Bucky crawled into bed next to her. The two rested on their backs, both staring at the ceiling in silence. Bucky remained at a respectful distance away, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. Y/N turned on her left side, her good side, to face him.

“I’m glad you don’t hate me.”

Bucky turned on his side to face her before responding.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

A strand of her hair had fallen in front of her face and Bucky, instinctively, reached out a hand to tuck it behind her ear. Immediately, he regretted it, about to pull his hand back when Y/N took her hand and placed it on top of his, guiding it to rest on her cheek. He cupped her face in his hand and she leaned into his embrace. Bucky felt his heart rate increase as she moved her body closer to his, wrapping the arm she used to hold his hand on her face, across his side. He shifted towards her as well, wrapping his arm around her body, bringing her closer to him.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, nervous that he might have somehow misinterpreted the situation. He hadn’t been with a woman in such an intimate way in years and had no idea what he was doing. Y/N looked up at him and nodded, before snuggling her face into his chest and Bucky felt a wave of calm wash over him.

“Can you stay here tonight?” Y/N mumbled, her face pressed into his chest. He chuckled at the vibrations from her voice and kissed her temple, smoothing her hair back.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to, honey.”

[klbwriting]

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 1

Fandom: Six of Crows/Shadow and Bone

Pairing: eventually will be Kaz/female!Reader but for now nothing

Warnings: I mean, Kaz Brekker is involved, someone is getting maimed

Summary:  The Darkling won the Ravka civil war, defeating the Sun Summoner and taking command of Ravka. Then he went looking for ways to make his Grisha more powerful. Kaz Brekker knew this but took the job at the Ice Court anyway, getting himself and Jesper Fahey thrown into a Ravkan prison for his efforts. After getting broken out by the Darkling's second in command the trio has to find their way to the Permafrost and the resistance gathering there. And then Kaz has to figure out a way to get his crew out of this whole mess. But how can he get himself out of the mess of feelings he has for the Grisha with all the powers?

Note: Hello!  I am alive!  I have found motivation for something else!  As much as I loved the Shadow and Bone show I have found more love in the Six of Crows books so this fic is an AU based on both.  In this the Darkling won out over Alina and then Six of Crows happened like it does, except the Darkling showed up to ruin things as he does. Also going to address the Inej sized elephant in the room, in this Kaz’s feelings were less strong towards her because I ship the fuck out of Kaz and Inej but I also ship the shit out of Kaz and myself too and I needed some self-insert.  I hope you like it, I missed writing and I’m glad to find some inspiration again.  

Kaz Brekker was known even in prison as the guy who didn't need a reason. He wanted his infamy to spread even behind bars, the better to keep those looking for a pigeon to harass away. On his first day in this hellscape he had stolen a fork from the dining hall and used it when his cellmate attempted to take the makeshift cane that he had been provided from his hand. Now he no longer had a cellmate and his old cellmate no longer had his eyes, and word spread quick of the young man willing to kill to be left alone. That had given him the time and space to start to plan his escape.

First, get Jesper as his cellmate. That was accomplished with ease. Anyone else they put in with him would be blind or deaf or crippled within 24 hours so it came down the guards asking him straight out who he wouldn't maim. He said Jesper Fahey and they allowed it if only to have a night's peace. Jesper didn't look like he was faring well. In a cell at Hellgate Jesper would have been alright but here in a West Ravkan prison near Os Alta where his Zemeni features made him stand out he had become a target. When he entered Kaz's cell rage filled the young crime lord. Jesper was thinner than ever, dark circles under his eyes and hands fidgeting constantly, almost like he needed a drug but Kaz knew it was just because he couldn't focus his energy.

"Jesper," Kaz whispered after the guard had left and his sharpshooter sat on the cot. "What do you need?" Jesper looked at him slowly and gave half a smile.

"Just my friend, s'all ok now," he said. Kaz felt the side of his mouth twitch up just a little. "But I could also use a way out of this damned place." Kaz nodded, gripping the wooden walking stick a little tighter. He wanted to put a comforting hand on Jesper's shoulder but he could not, Jordie's body, cold and wet and dead flooded his mind, and he couldn't bring himself to reach out. He hated that this place seemed to be tearing his friend apart slowly. It was even taking a toll on him. Everyday was the same, waked up with the sun, eat a breakfast of stodgy porridge and soggy bread, washed down with possibly the grimiest coffee ever made. The prisoners were then sent outside to work on either the large farm for the prison and surrounding towns or they were forced to be target practice for the Grisha guards. Normally only the worst of the worst were reserved for practice, or those that pissed off the guards. Kaz had avoided this so far but he knew Jesper had run his mouth one day, getting snarky with the yard guard and he had almost been drowned by a Tidemaker the next morning. Lunches were non-existant most days. They were shuffled from work to 'free time' which meant sitting in the hot afternoon sun either playing cards, or, if they were lucky, sitting under one of the shady trees that scattered the yard. Evening was the only decent time at this hellhole, it was dinner, and then back to the cells. Kaz enjoyed this time, he was normally alone to plan, and now that Jesper was here they could plan together. He had the beginning, how to get out of the cell, but the rest he was still working on.

"I have been planning this since we got in here, you were the first part of my plan," Kaz said, watching as another set of guards walked by. He checked the small window above their heads. "She's coming any minute now." Jesper looked at him confused for a moment before the cell door opened and a guard told Kaz to get up. Kaz nodded and stood, Jesper rising as well.

"This one should come too, he was at the Ice Court with me on that night," Kaz said to the guard. The guard looked between them and shrugged, motioning for another guard, a Grisha Corpolaki judging from the kefta he wore. They led Kaz and Jesper out of the cells and into one of the small interrogation rooms. Kaz was familiar with the room at this point, having been there several times in the past few months speaking with the Grisha Infernei who was seated at one of the two chairs in the room. She looked up as they entered and he noticed that she seemed relieved, something she hadn't shown before.

"Are there anymore of your comrades from the Ice Court in this prison?" she asked, motioning for another chair to be brought in. Jesper sat down hard while Kaz stood still, leaning on the walking stick and once again studying the Infernei. She wore a red kefta with black stitching, something different from the others and he was still not sure why. He supposed it was because she was high in the ranks. After the Darkling defeated Alina Starkov and her followers he had gone back to using his true name, Aleksander Morosova, and became king of Ravka. He used the power that he had sucked from the Sun Summoner to control the Fold now, moving and reshaping it to whatever he needed and on the night of Kaz's jurda parem heist he apparently needed the jurda parem also. Kaz and Jesper had been taken but the others had escaped.

"No, no more of us, just we two were involved," he said. The Grisha looked between them, assessing them. Kaz took another moment to look over her while she studied Jesper. He always liked to measure who he was up against, and he didn't mind studying her. She was curvy, seeming to like waffles more than Nina did, with hair a deep auburn and eyes the color of dark chocolate. The first time he saw them they reminded him of Inej's eyes except her's were more hopeful than he had ever seen Inej. This Grisha fully believed that something good could still happen in the world. Kaz was almost jealous of this, but of course, this Grisha had seen her side win the Ravka civil war. His eyes now met hers and he saw that while he was studying her she had been doing the same to him. He could tell she knew he was lying but he didn't care. He had spent the last 4 months keeping his answers vague, giving just enough information so that she would feed him information back about the current situation at the Little Palace, now the true royal home since the Grand Palace lay in ruin. King Aleksander left it as a reminder to those who would attempt to assassinate him, bodies still left scattered around the rubble, Alina Starkov's kefta in tatters on the front steps. Kaz hadn't seen it but from the way this Grisha described it, he believed it was terrifying.

"Mr. Brekker, we both know the heist you were attempting could never be accomplished with just two people," she said, a knowing smile on her face. This seeming infatuation the Grisha had with him was a plus for Kaz. He often wondered if he could possibly seduce his way out of the situation but his mind couldn't fathom the interactions involved, so he would wait. Perhaps this woman had a inclination towards criminals, she might be seduced by anyone, Jesper could do it easily, Kaz just had to get the ball rolling so to speak.

"I don't know, I think Jesper and I can accomplish anything we put out mind to," he answered, bringing himself to nudge his partner in crime with his elbow. The Grisha nodded and opened her notebook as she did at every meeting and began to write.

Y/N had noticed the look on Kaz Brekker's face when he elbowed Jesper Fahey. She could see his hesitation, she noticed the look in his storm gray eyes. He was bracing himself for impact as if the touch would somehow hurt him. Jesper's face was surprised at the touch, and he physically turned towards Kaz with shock. She opened her notebook and pretended to jot down something important as she did every day, but she mentally notated this interaction. She had been listening to others in the prison and despite his limp Kaz never let anyone see him as weak, however, this aversion to touch was never mentioned. He hid it well out in the general population but she could see something about touch bothered him immensely, that information could be useful later. Kaz Brekker was a tough nut to crack she had to admit, but eventually she would get to where she needed to be with him, hopefully sooner rather than later. Aleksander was having a tough time buying her excuses and she had to become even more convincing for him, continuing to keep his trust after the betrayal of the Sun Summoner was an arduous task. She hoped soon she could drop her facade and begin her true purpose, breaking Kaz Brekker and his cohorts out of this prison and find the gathering resistance in the Permafrost.

"Alright Mr. Brekker, we left off yesterday with you explaining to me how you came to know about jurda parem and what the Fjerdans were doing with Bo Yul-Bayor and his son Kuwei?" she said. It had taken months for Kaz to even start explaining anything to her. She had hoped that agreeing to allow his friend to be his cellmate would open him up. Luckily the gamble had worked at their last interrogation. His answers had still been too vague to really make an impact but it was a start. She hated to make him desperate but she needed the information, something to feed to Aleksander and send him on a chase for more jurda parem. Kuwei Yol-Bo had escaped from the Ice Court and that knowledge was keeping Bo from cooperating with the Second Army. He had recreated exactly one vial of jurda parem and refused to create another until his son was returned safely to him. Kaz Brekker and Jesper Fahey had been the last people to see Kuwei alive and she needed something to tell Aleksander before he decided to come here and do the interrogations himself.

"Yes, I believe I told you that a rumor had gone around Ketterdam and that I just happened to hear it," he said, making sure he was as convincing as he could be. Once again Y/N pretended to write something down, pretending to believe his lie. He was a very good liar, she could see that in the way his eyes held truth, his body language said honest, even his pulse was calm, however, the blood in his veins moved just a milisecond faster during his falsehoods. It had taken nearly a month to figure out the tell in his body but she had done it and now she used this against him.

"Must have been quite a rumor to make you put your friends in the line of fire of Fjerdans and of King Aleksander," she said, keeping her voice light, leaning a little closer to him. She couldn't lie, she was enraptured by the young man from the Barrel of Ketterdam, but she wasn't foolish enough to believe that he would ever see her as anything other than another Ravkan Grisha blindly serving her king, but she could pretend that she hoped to lure him in, get him feeling confident about her.

"Jesper will tell you, he was eager to join me to find this new drug, imagine the kruge we could make from such a thing," Kaz said, standing suddenly and poking Jesper towards Y/N with his cane. He moved towards the wall, leaning against it. Y/N watched him for a few moments before turning her attention to Jesper. He wanted to push someone else at her? Why? She could tell he liked the attention she gave him, maybe not in a way most men did, but he liked it all the same. Jesper barked a laugh.

"Eager? You came back and acted like we were going to be rolling in kruge, become kings of Kerch," Jesper said. He was also a practiced liar, following the lead of his boss as it were. Y/N smiled at Jesper then, making sure her brown eyes looked intrigued and enraptured. She noticed the Zemeni man leaned back in his chair then, clearly not interested in the attentions of a Grisha like herself. "But ya, I mean, I wanted the kruge and I was having a good run that night at the tables, felt lady luck was on my side." She saw him fidgeting near his waist, where his guns should be. She had those stored in her private quarters, along with a certain crow headed cane, waiting for the right moment. She had been watching Kaz and Jesper since they arrived, having her spies give her information on them. They were the only link she had to Kuwei and Inej Ghafa and she needed to know all she could before she continued her plan.

She tried to pry more out of the two for several minutes before one of her people, a young Squallor entered.

"The hour is late Korovsa, the king is finished waiting," she whispered. Y/N’s jaw tightened. Her eyes flashed to Kaz and she saw him take notice of the slight change in her features. Her fears were starting to come to pass. She needed to end this charade now.

"Guard, please escort Mr. Fahey back to his new cell. Mr. Brekker and I have more to discuss," she ordered. The guard grabbed Jesper's arm, hauling him from the seat. Y/N wanted to say something, tell them to lay off the guy, but knew she couldn't appear as if she cared. Once he was gone she made a motion for Kaz to sit. He still stood. "Sit, now," she insisted, hoping he heard the urgency in her voice. He eyed for another moment before he moved to sit. She leaned closer, all of her coy attitude gone.

"What's happened?" Kaz asked casually, working the top of the walking stick with his hands, the only sign of his concern. Y/N let out a breath.

"My time is up, tomorrow night expect there to be a riot, stay in your cell with Jesper, don't leave until you hear 2 bells, then leave the cell and go to your left, the door will be ajar due to the last guard through it mistakenly knocking over mop. Once you are in the corridor go right and follow it to the deserted morgue. I will join you and lead you and Jesper out, do not leave without me," she said.

"Why should I believe any of this? That you're just going to help up walk out of there?" Kaz asked, trying to read her, seeing if she was lying. She groaned annoyed. Why was it that her only hope was as distrustful as her current king?

"Because I want to see the king's body burn before he destroys all of us," she whispered, voice dripping with venom. Kaz looked a little surprised at her viciousness and he nodded. She sat back, knowing that by now the guard had returned.

"Well Mr. Brekker, you've once again been no help, tomorrow the king will be coming to personally interrogate you, I hope you are looking forward to it," she said. "Guard take him back to his cell." The guard nodded and yanked him out of the chair. "Careful, the king won't like it if he can't inflict the pain himself," she warned, more to Kaz than the guard. She hoped Kaz believed her enough, that she had shown her hand to him enough that he would do as she asked. If he didn't they were all screwed.

[cdelphiki]

She couldn’t do this.

Damian. Her precious little Damian. The baby with a beautiful smile. Infectious laugh. Adorable babble. Who so sweetly, so gently, pet any stray cat that sat still long enough for him to ‘catch.’ Who hugged anyone that cared for him, and even the random servants who lingered long enough.

That baby. Her baby.

Watching him, at 18-months-old, be taught how to wield a sword. Watching as the trainer smacked his hands, his side, his face, every time he wobbled, or lost interest, or got confused.

Hearing his cry, and seeing his pleading eyes, whenever it happened.

Seeing him look at her, and call for her, then get distraught because she did nothing.

She just stood there.

Next to her father.

And watched.

There was nothing more she could do. Going against her father would only bring more harm on her son. It would only risk Father taking Damian from her entirely.

But she couldn’t do this.

It felt like her heart was being ripped out of her body.

Someone was inside her, with red hot claws, scratching away. Destroying everything. Killing her.

Her stomach was filling with vile acid, and just one move, one word, and it might come up.

Weakness, her father would say.

Useless.

Pathetic.

Perhaps that is why he ordered her presence, for this training session.

She’d hardly been allowed time with her son. Not in nearly a year had she been granted daily visits with him.

Her father had been disappointed in how attached she’d been becoming.

‘He is to be a warrior,’ Father had said, ‘worthy of his station. He cannot become the Demon’s head if he is soft.’

Perhaps it was then she should have done something.

Said something.

But instead, she just bowed her head and followed orders.

Like a good daughter would do.

What use was that now?

Damian whimpered again, as his trainer smacked him on the back with the flat of his blade. He’d started slouching. They were working on form.

Talia resisted closing her eyes. She knew, she knew if she did, she would not be able to stop the tears that followed.

She had to remain strong. Stable. Unaffected….

Unaffected in her father’s eyes, at least.

When she’d lied to Bruce, when she’d told him she’d miscarried…. What was she thinking?

She- she hadn’t wanted to betray her father. Hadn’t wanted to betray the League. This was her life. She’d been raised in this, she owed everything she had. Her training. Her wealth. Her skills. Everything to her father.

But-

But what did that matter?

Was it worth it? Was her son worth it?

“All done,” Damian pleaded, when he fell over and scraped his hands on the hard cement, “all done all done all done.”

The trainer just stood him back up and handed him the sword again, ignoring his cries.

When Damian looked at her and cried, “Mama,” again, Talia could taste the bile.

How could she have just handed her son over to Ra’s like this? What kind of monster was she?

Her son was crying for her, and she was standing by, watching him be hurt.

All because her father told her to.

The fact that he knew to call her ‘Mama’ was all because she snuck in to see him. Ordered his nursemaids to leave the room. Swore them to secrecy.

Had killed, a few of them…

She’s more than sure Ra’s had noticed, now.

As Talia stood there, watching her son struggle to stop crying and listen to his trainer, Talia made a decision.

Because nearly two years ago, when she’d told Bruce about her ‘miscarriage,’ she’d made a huge mistake.

Her father’s influence was toxic.

This training?

It was hell.

Talia loved what it’d turned her into, she loved her skills and abilities.

But if this was the cost?

This?

Her child?

There was only one place on earth where she’d be safe, where he’d be safe. One person able to offer that protection.

And once Talia told him, she knew he’d move heaven and earth to get them away.

- - -

To say Bruce was suspicious would be an understatement.

Talia had broken ties with him two years prior.

On not-so-friendly terms, at that.

She’d betrayed him. Joined her father, and all but stabbed him in the back in doing so.

He’d loved her.

He really had.

She had been- he thought she was-

They were going to spend their lives together. Raise a child. He thought she was-

But that was over. In the past.

And yet, there she was, staring back at him through a webcam, asking for his help.

Asking for help, after hacking into his computer, in the cave, where his son could enter at any moment.

How on earth was he supposed to explain his past fling with Talia al Ghul to Jason?

“Why should I trust you?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.

Because how would he be able to deny her request?

Once upon a time, he would have died for this opportunity. Would have cried, from utter relief, to get her away from the League. To bring her home. Keep her safe.

Yes. She could keep herself safe. Defend herself. Hold her own, against even him, but he could offer his protection of the entire Justice League. If it came down to it.

He’d loved her.

But she’d chosen her father. Chosen a life as an assassin. Rejected him. And it was hard for him to forget that.

“I lied to you,” she said, pulling his attention back to the present, “I lied.”

She said it with such finality, Bruce narrowed his eyes. And just stared.

He was sure she’d lied about many things. Why was this the ‘reason?’ And why would lying be a reason to trust her now?

To give her a chance, now?

“About?” he pressed, ignoring the thought in the back of his head asking whether this was all a distraction so the League could move in on Gotham.

Alarms would be going off, if that were the case. Literal alarms, in the cave.

Besides, the League hadn’t been doing anything in the United States for many months.

They were too busy building up their forces in the Alps. Bruce still had no idea why, but they’d been beefing up their presence there for over a year and a half.

“You know about what,” Talia said, gently. Almost apologetically.

His heart fluttered, a little.

There was one thing. One thing, that had she been lying about, he’s not sure he’d be angry about.

Not right now, at least.

“Bruce,” she pled, “I- I’ve made a mistake.” Her voice cracked, and she rested a hand against the side of her face as she looked off to the side, away from her camera. “Father is so cruel to him, Bruce. I need your help.”

No.

Anger was definitely not the emotion he was feeling. It- it was down there. It was deep, deep down there, and later that night. Or, perhaps, in a few days, he knew he would hit a punching bag until his knuckles were bloody.

But on top? Right now?

On top was hope.

Hope, excitement, and… and utter devastation.

“Him?” Bruce whispered, resisting the urge to rip his mask off and rub at his face. He was on camera, he had to remind himself. He had no idea how many people were watching.

And this could all be one magnificent lie. A trick to get him off balance. So they could strike, while he had his guard down.

While he was yearning for something he’d thought he’d lost, two years prior.

“He’s beautiful, Bruce,” she whispered, her voice catching on the next sentence, “He looks just like you, and I can tell he gets his empathy from you. But,” she paused, a ferocious determination taking over her face. A trait of her’s that had caused Bruce to fall in the first place.

“Father will destroy him if we don’t get him away.”

There would be no ‘ifs.’

If Bruce had ever had a mission that had no option for failure, it was this one.

He didn’t care if Talia changed her mind, ten minutes later. This mission was happening, and he was bringing home what he thought he’d lost.

Bruce has no idea how he got through the following ten minutes, planning out with Talia exactly how and when the pickup would go. Nightwing, Robin and himself would all approach the compound in the batwing, in stealth mode. He’d pulled Clark in on the call, and Superman agreed he would be on standby, watching from afar for anything to go wrong.

If they were spotted, or if the League tried anything, the entire Justice League would respond, if necessary.

Clark promised he’d keep the mission itself classified. No one but the core team would know the details of what they were picking up. The core team being himself, the Flash, and the Bats.

His ears were ringing the entire time, and he felt like an outsider, looking in.

‘He looks just like you,’ Talia had said.

That’s all he could think about.

Bruce had a son.

There-

Was there anything more to say?

He had a son.

“Talia,” he rasped, just before she cut the call with him. After a deep breath, he looked deep into the camera, doing his best to convey his seriousness. His promise, should it be necessary. “If this is a trick.”

With sadness in her eyes, Talia smiled and said, “We will see you tomorrow, Beloved,” and with that, ended the call.

It came as no surprise when, not even a quarter of a second later, the papers on his desk flew up into the air. Each one wafting back down, before Bruce even had the chance to close his eyes and take a breath.

Bringing Clark in on this was necessary.

As much as he hated bringing personal missions to those outside the family, there was no way he could risk this one.

If Talia was telling the truth, and he wasn’t successful on his own. Wasn’t able to take on the entire League while protecting a helpless infant.

Well.

He’d never forgive himself.

Ever.

But none of that meant he had to be happy his best friend was there to witness this.

“Bruce, this is,” Clark started, setting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing, but Bruce cut him off.

“Clark, just,” he said, pulling his mask off so he could finally wipe his eyes. He wasn’t even mortified at the crack in his voice, because there was far too many other things swirling through his head. “Give me a minute.”

He had… so much to do. He hadn’t time for this.

And yet…

It was the only thing he could do.

Closing his eyes, Bruce took a second to recenter himself. Find his strength and embrace his duties. Right now, he needed to be Batman.

But before he was able to complete a single deep breath, he heard from the top of the stairs, “B?”

And everything just became much more complicated.

“Bruce?” Jason asked again, a little hesitantly, as he made his way down the stairs, “Superman? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bruce said, reeling it all in and trying his best to blink back the wetness in his eyes. So maybe he wouldn’t have to wipe his face in front of his son.

His… middle son.

Because, Bruce actually had three…

“Is Dick okay?” Jason asked a little more frantically, because despite his best efforts, Bruce sniffed.

“He’s fine,” Clark soothed, squeezing Bruce’s shoulder a little tighter as Jason hurried his way down the stairs, “Nothing is wrong, Jase.”

“Then why is…” Jason said, trailing off when he finally made it to where Bruce was sitting.

They had so much to do. Bruce hadn’t the time for this.

It was time for Batman.

“Suit up,” he told his son, shrugging Clark’s hand off and squaring his shoulders. They had just under three hours before take off, and there was so much to do. “We have a mission.”

- - -

By ‘a mission,’ Bruce meant they were infiltrating the freaking League of Assassins.

Like.

In the middle of the day. Completely randomly.

Well, they were set to leave in three hours, with a 5 hour flight time. And considering the time difference, it would actually be about 4am when they arrived at Nanda Parbat.

So.

Middle of the night, kind of.

Jason was both super excited, and kind of freaked out.

Especially when Bruce called in Dick.

Those two worked together, sure. Sometimes. But it was always so fucking tense, and Jason kind of hated it.

Bruce also always refused to call in Dick for anything. Dick always just kind of, forced himself in on the mission.

But for this?

Whatever the fuck this was?

It had Bruce calling in not only Dick Grayson, but Superman, too.

Because that’s why Superman had been there. He’d already called the guy in.

Whatever was going on, it was huge.

And whatever it was, Jason actually started feeling very nervous. Because Bruce said he had news to share. And he called Alfred down first, before he shared it.

Bruce paced. Back and forth, back and forth. In front of the conference table for two full minutes while the four of them sat there, waiting for him to fucking say something.

“Do you want me?” Clark asked, and was immediately shot down by a glare from Bruce.

Was Bruce dying?

Were they going to the League to steal some pit water??

Because he said he was okay.

Clark said he was okay, and Clark wouldn’t lie about something like that. Right? Jason wouldn’t put it past Bruce at all to be a freaking hypocrite and lie to him so not to make him worry, but not Clark.

He was way too much a boy scout.

Yet, there Bruce was. Pacing back and forth. Freaking out about something.

“B, you’re freaking the kid out,” Dick said, leaning back in his chair, like he was fucking relaxed during this.

Their freaking dad could be dying and he was chill about it.

No wonder his name was Dick.

“I am not,” he protested, but Bruce quit his pacing and sighed, anyway.

“Honestly, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, from where he sat next to Jason, “Whatever it is, I am confident we can handle it.”

“A couple years ago,” Bruce started, pausing to sigh again before he turned his back to them, but continued, “I got… involved… with Talia al Ghul.”

“Gross. I knew it,” Dick said, pulling a face for Jason to see.

“From the League of Assassins,” Jason said, just to clarify.

So… were they staging this mission so Bruce could go…

Ew.

Gross.

Disgusting.

Jason hated his mind for putting that picture in his head.

“Yes,” Bruce confirmed, apparently uncaring that he’d just put horrible awful pictures in Jason’s head.

He was thirteen. This was probably child abuse.

“It was serious,” he continued, “We had been… discussing marriage.”

“Oh my,” Alfred said, in as close to a gasp as Jason had ever heard from Alfred.

Jason didn’t blame him. Bruce had never really struck Jason as a ‘serious’ kinda guy.

Not with the ladies, at least.

Mostly because he had a different chick hanging off of him at every party.

“She had been with child,” Bruce finally said, nearly stumbling over his words as he spit the sentence out.

The air in the room seemed to still, and they all stared at Bruce.

Well, all of them, except Clark. Since apparently Clark already knew.

“Why… why,” Dick stammered, then stopped.

Jason didn’t really know what to ask first, either.

But apparently Bruce knew what to answer first.

“She told me she miscarried. She, she told me. I thought-“ with another sigh, Bruce turned back around, finally allowing them to see the exhaustion on his face, as he rubbed at it and sat down at the head of the table.

“I thought she’d miscarried. She dumped me, after that. Refused to leave her father and the League, and sent me home. I- I should have checked up on it. Verified her story, but… I was just so-”

Bruce put his face in his hands, and just sat there, for a very long minute.

Dick, to Jason’s surprise, was the one to break the silence, because neither he nor Alfred seemed to be able to find any words. Jason had never heard Bruce so close to tears, before.

He was kind of scared of getting Bruce to talk more.

And if Bruce was saying what he was saying, well…

Jason really had no words for it.

Batman apparently had a baby.

And they were going to rescue it from the League of Assassins.

That was just…

Wow.

Holy.

Shit.

“So,” Dick said, a small smile tugging on his lips as he did, “is it a boy or a girl?”

- - -

Everything was going smoothly.

They had agreed on a meet-up time eight hours from the end of their call, which meant Talia had most the night to figure out her plan for getting Damian out of his nursery.

In the end, she’d decided on using simple tranquilizer darts.

It was dirty, a completely dishonorable way to fight, but Talia couldn’t find it in herself to care.

The very last thing she needed was for one of the nursemaids to notice her break-in and alert the guards.

She’d packed her bag before heading to Damian’s room, so all she had left to do was grab him before Bruce arrived.

Sneaking into his room was painfully easy, and she only had to sedate one nursemaid, who had already been asleep, anyway.

Honestly. It couldn’t have been easier, and it was putting Talia on edge.

Damian stirred, when she lifted him from the crib, so Talia shoved the pacifier into his mouth she knew he’d been deprived of for eight months at that point.

He’d taken to sucking his thumb, in its stead, and Talia had always hated that about her father’s rules.

Why was it so difficult to indulge her son in one simple comfort.

The pacifier worked like a charm, and Damian latched onto it with one hand as he sucked away, curling into Talia’s hold as she wrapped the cloth around them both, creating a make-shift carrier.

Out of everything, the hardest part was getting him tied to her securely. Because with the pacifier, he was as quiet as a lamb, not making a single peep of protest. She wasn’t even sure if he’d woken enough to see who had been holding him.

After the day he’d had, Talia was grateful he could still find peace in his sleep.

Climbing up to the roofs was a little more difficult. Damian did whine, a little, when she had to press herself up against the wall of the third floor, to hide from a patrolling guard below.

She closed her eyes and held her breath, begging every deity she could think of to keep Damian silent as the guard paused and looked around. After adjusting her grip, so she could hold them both with one hand, she placed her newly free hand on his head and tried to soothe him.

Damian shifted against her, even though he was pinned rather tightly between her and the wall, then stilled. His little pacifier bobbing in and out as he grasped tightly to her blouse.

The guard looked around, up and down the narrow courtyard below where she was climbing, but after a long minute, turned around and continued on with his patrol.

Talia didn’t allow herself a sigh of relief.

With three more moves, Talia reached the edge of the roof and pulled herself up, without scraping Damian against the edge. He didn’t notice in his sleep.

Soon, he’d be able to pass all his nights in such peace.

His days, too.

She had no doubt in her mind that Bruce would offer them the sanctuary they needed, to allow Damian to grow up without fears.

But, if he didn’t, she’d find it anyway.

This child. Her child, would never know the pain he’d experienced that day again.

As silently as she’d been trained, Talia raced across the rooftops to the pickup location. Bruce was promised to be there in two minutes, and she needed to be three buildings over.

“Shh,” she whispered, hugging Damian tightly as she ran. The movement was, apparently, disrupting his sleep, and he’d started to stir, “sleep, my prince.”

“Mama,” he mumbled, snuggling against her.

“Yes,” she choked, preparing to make the last jump to the roof where Bruce was to meet them, “Mama is here, baby.”

She’d given Bruce the coordinates of the highest roof in the complex, in hopes that he could simply swoop in and grab them, not needing to stop or interact with anyone.

He was bringing his team, though. He was bringing Superman.

Talia had never had any sort of admiration for the alien. His technique was abysmal, tending to toss around his unearthly strength, rather than exhibit any skill during his fights.

But knowing that, if it came down to it, she could likely just shout ‘Superman,’ and in an instant he’d be there, ready and able to take Damian to safety… It helped keep her calm.

Father would not be expecting the help of a Kryptonian. Bruce had never been one to ask for help, so it was unlikely Father would have his kryptonite within reach.

The final jump was a little longer than comfortable, and Talia had to land in a roll to avoid injuring herself or falling off completely. She rolled on her back, using her arms to keep Damian from making contact with the roof at all.

Her heart was hammering when she finished the roll on her feet. She had thirty more yards to go, and she’d been at the exact coordinates she’d given Bruce.

Thirty more yards, and one more minute.

Talia shook, as she stood in the exact spot. Damian was fully awake now, and wriggling against the cloth wrapped around him.

“Be still, my dear,” she whispered, hugging him a little tighter as she searched the night sky for any sign of their rescue, “Just a few more moments.”

“Out,” Damian cried, not quite at a normal level, but much louder than Talia felt comfortable with, as he started struggling against her arms, “Down.”

“In a moment,” she whispered desperately. Her arms felt like rubber, as the adrenaline that had kept her running started to ebb.

It was a minute past pickup, and Batman was no where in sight.

If he didn’t show…

Damian whined out again, this time loudly.

“Be patient, my love,” she whispered, now fighting back tears, “Your father is coming for us.”

He had to be.

“Mama,” Damian cried, pulling his pacifier out of his mouth completely to whine at her more efficiently.

She looked around frantically, making sure no guards were near enough to have heard him.

When she didn’t see anyone coming at them, she bounced Damian some and tried to force the pacifier back into his mouth. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she repeated, over and over, really unsure, at this point, if it was for Damian or herself.

Because if Bruce weren’t coming, was any of his team?

Was she just standing on a roof, risking the life of her son for nothing?

Father would not take lightly an attempted defection.

What would he do to Damian?

Probably take him away from her forever. She’d never see him again. Never know the pain he was in. Never be able to hold him, after a hard day, and comfort him. Remind him of her love.

She’d lose him forever, and-

Talia’s knees nearly buckled when, without warning, a jet materialized out of nowhere not ten feet above her.

His technology was amazing. She hadn’t even felt it coming, much less heard it.

And before she even realized it, tears were streaming down her face.

A hatch opened, right on the underside of the jet, and Batman himself leaned out, reaching a hand down to her.

“Talia,” he breathed, shaking his hand, as if desperately begging her to grab it.

She’d never accepted an offered hand so fast in her life.

As he pulled her up into the jet, swiftly and effortlessly, as if it were nothing, Talia felt herself relax. All the adrenaline leave her body entirely as she collapsed right onto the ground of Bruce’s jet.

She didn’t even care who all was there to see.

Because for the first time in her life, Talia felt like she could breathe.

- - -

She hadn’t been lying.

That was the only thing circling through Bruce’s head as he pulled Talia up into the jet, them stopping barely long enough for him to do that before Dick was turning around and racing away.

As far as they could tell, they hadn’t been spotted until they turned off the craft’s cloaking system.

If all went to plan, the League would not be able to respond quickly enough to catch them. Nightwing was supposed to take them on an indirect route back to Gotham, completely in stealth mode.

Ra’s al Ghul could search the skies all night and never find them.

He hoped.

But all that was for Nightwing to worry about. That had been the plan. If Talia was telling the truth, he’d agreed, Bruce could focus on that, while Dick handled keeping them hidden and taking them to safety. Jason could give him backup, if necessary.

Bruce trusted Dick with his life.

And he was so thankful for that, because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do much beyond what he was currently doing.

Which was watching as Talia collapsed onto the floor, clumsily freeing a baby from a carrier as she cried into his hair.

“Tal-“ he started, reaching an hand out to her, really unsure about what he was going to do. But he froze, when the baby squirmed and twisted out of the cloth holding him.

Because Talia was right.

He was beautiful.

His bright green eyes were mesmerizing, and Bruce felt his heart seize as the baby looked at him, ever so briefly.

It wasn’t until that very instant did Bruce realize his life had been incomplete.

There had been a piece of him missing, and he hadn’t even realized it.

The baby turned back to his mother and said, “Mama,” reaching up for her face.

“Yes,” Talia sobbed, grabbing his hand and holding it to her cheek, before she wrapped him up into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry,” she said, squeezing him tight, “I’m so sorry.”

Bruce watched helplessly as Talia devolved further and further into incoherence, as she whispered her apologies and proclaimed her love for the very confused looking baby in her arms.

The baby didn’t protest, though. He leaned into her hug and stayed there, like he understood his mother needed a hug back.

How old was he?

If he’d been born on time, by Bruce’s estimations, he’d be about…

Seventeen months old?

Eighteen?

He didn’t know much about baby development, but he did know that it was during the first year they turned from basically babies to tiny, outspoken little people.

How developed was his son? How much had Bruce missed?

Bruce knelt down in front of Talia and sat there, waiting for her to recover.

What she had been through, he had no idea.

It had to have been a lot, for her to reach out and actually ask for help.

She was stubborn, like that. Never asking for help. Never even expecting it.

And her reaction to being pulled into safety, well.

He was afraid to learn what she’d been through.

Jason caught his eye, lingering just on the outskirts of his vision. He looked up and tried to offer a reassuring face, but probably fell flat, because Jason frowned at him. But Jason held a thumbs up at him, both letting him know they’d flown into the clear and Superman had been informed of the successful mission, and asking if Bruce was good.

With a single nod, Bruce thanked him, and turned his attention back to Talia.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking at him, now, but still hugging the baby tightly to her.

“What happened?” he asked, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the baby.

Touch his son.

Bruce had never been one to want to hold babies, usually perfectly content to just observe them, but his arms yearned for the weight of this baby in his arms.

He didn’t even know his name.

“Father,” she said, her voice almost squeaking with the effort.

Bruce hadn’t seen her in two years, and he still wanted to pull her to his side.

Never had he seen her like this.

But he kept his distance. Let her recover on her own. He wasn’t sure how he felt about her, in that moment.

At all.

“Father,” she said again, this time much more confidently, one hand absently combing through the baby’s hair.

The beautiful baby who had twisted in her hold, just enough, to stare at him.

“Started his training.” There was so much pain in her voice, Bruce could only imagine what kind of horrors that meant.

Who trained a baby?

“Bruce,” she choked out, squeezing the baby again, “it was so bad. I- I just stood there and watched. I couldn’t- I couldn’t do anything else. He would have harmed him more. Or taken him from me.”

“What happened,” he repeated, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible.

Any anger he had about whatever ‘training’ implied was being pushed down. Buried deep into the recesses of his brain.

No one needed his anger right now.

When the baby continued to stare at him, Bruce realized he still had his cowl on.

What kind of introduction was this? Being presented to his son as Batman, first.

Hopefully he hadn’t scared the kid too much to want to be held.

Talia started crying again, and shifted so she was sitting criss-cross, the baby still cradled in her arms as she blubbered out, “They hit him so many times, Bruce. I’m so sorry,” and before Bruce could even respond. Could even think of how to respond, she turned her face down to the baby and repeated, “I’m so sorry, Damian. I’m so sorry, my love. I’ll never let- I’ll never-”

But she didn’t complete the sentence, because she’d lost it again, and the baby… Damian?

Damian.

That was the most beautiful name he’d ever heard.

Damian looked very confused and concerned for his mother’s mood.

“He’s safe now,” Bruce tried, scooting over to her side to set a hand on her back, “He’s safe.”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, curling further onto Damian.

“Mama,” Damian said again, this time pointing at Bruce when Talia opened her eyes and gave him her attention.

“Yes,” she said, smiling for the first time as she wiped her tears away, “Yes, dear. This is-“ she paused, looking up at Bruce, then said again, “This is Daddy.”

Bruce could cry.

He was not going to cry.

“Do you want to hold him?” Talia asked, apparently seeing the intense desire plastered all over his face.

All Bruce wanted to do was hold him. There was nothing on earth he wanted more.

“May I?” he asked, almost afraid to even try.

What if Damian didn’t like him?

What if he started crying, when Bruce took him?

“He’s your son, Bruce,” Talia said, lifting Damian from her lap and offering him over.

After hesitating for only a second, Bruce reached out and held his hands out to Damian, who looked at him appraisingly, like he were judging Bruce and determining if he was worth his attention.

But then, before Bruce could even hold his breath, Damian leaned toward him, and Bruce could definitely cry.

Because then Damian was in his arms, looking straight into his eyes as he let Bruce hold him close.

And-

And.

Bruce had no thoughts.

“Hi, Damian,” he choked out, trying his hardest not to cry, “I’m- I’m your-“ but he couldn’t get the word out.

Couldn’t get anything else out.

Damian didn’t seem to care, because he smiled at Bruce and said, “Hi,” back.

And Bruce was definitely crying, now.

Just a little.

But he didn’t care.

He didn’t care, because he had the son he thought he’d lost two years ago cradled in his arms, and nothing could ruin the moment.

- - -

Jason was thankful that the jet was large enough he didn’t have to hear Bruce talking to his new baby son.

He honestly had no idea how to feel about all of this.

Bruce had apparently done it with the daughter of one of their most dangerous villains, and he was now probably definitely crying tears of joy while he held the son of said villainous daughter.

But Jason wasn’t jealous.

How could he be?

The baby was just a baby. It’s not like the posed any sort of threat to Jason.

Except.

By… stealing away Bruce’s attention.

Jason was not being jealous of a baby. The baby deserved his dad’s attention. Especially since he had a dad as great as Bruce. Jason would know. He’d been playing the role of dad for him for a year.

Now, though… now he had a real son.

He was not jealous.

“Stop worrying,” Dick said, from where he was flying the jet, sitting in the seat next to Jason.

Jason had taken the spot of co-pilot just because it was the farthest away from Bruce he could be. He wasn’t really helping Nightwing fly.

Mostly because Nightwing didn’t need help flying. He actually had the auto-pilot engaged.

“I’m not worrying.”

“You’re right,” Dick said, laughing a little as he leaned back in his chair, “You’re freaking out.”

Crossing his arms, Jason tried his best to look completely and totally unaffected by everything ever as he said, “Am not.”

Apparently he was unconvincing, because Dick gave him a shit eating grin and ruffled his hair.

Like the asshole he was.

“You’re right. You’re the epitome of calm and collected.”

“Fuck you,” Jason snapped. Dick should mind his own fucking business.

They still weren’t, like, friends or anything, either. Dick had been clear about how happy he was Jason existed. Sure, they’d kind of made up some in recent months. And Dick even offered his blessing for Jason to be Robin, but that didn’t mean they were friends.

Apparently Dick didn’t agree, because he kept being an asshole and talking to him by saying, “Look, this isn’t going to change anything between you and Bruce, okay?”

Through a pout, Jason mumbled, “How would you know?” Bruce getting a son was going to change everything.

“Because this happened to me, remember?”

Jason rolled his eyes. Just because Bruce adopted him didn’t mean Dick knew what it was like to have his adopted dad get a biological child and not need him anymore. If anything, Dick should be freaking out, too, because they were both the adopted kids and the baby was the real son.

Except Dick didn’t live with them, so he wasn’t at risk of being homeless again if Bruce kicked him out. Since, well, Bruce couldn’t kick him out.

Maybe Dick should fuck off and leave him alone.

“Did Bruce adopting you change how he felt about me?” Dick asked, nudging Jason’s arm as he did.

Asshole.

“Fuck you, it’s different,” he snapped. In fact, they all knew Dick was the favorite child between the two of them, so it was completely and totally different.

Maybe Dick should be worrying more. He wasn’t going to be the favorite anymore.

Bruce was so happy about having a biological son he was crying about it.

Bruce had never been that happy about Jason.

“Not really,” Dick said, sighing some, “I thought he was writing me off completely when he adopted you.”

“Bruce never shuts up about you, it’s always ‘Dick this’ and ‘Dick that’ whenever I do anything, so shut up. But we’re both adopted, and that baby over there ain’t.”

Dick cocked a head at him and then let out a huff of a laugh. “Bruce never even told you. Wow.”

“Told me what?” Jason demanded, crossing his arms harder, because he didn’t want to storm off. Mostly because that would mean facing Bruce with his stupid new baby.

“I knew he was terrible with communication, but geez.”

“What, Dickface, just tell me.”

“Jase,” Dick said, offering a softer smile than before, “I’m not adopted. Bruce never adopted me. He was simply my ‘guardian’ until I aged out of the system. He has no legal obligation to me at all, now.”

“He-“ Jason started, because there was no way that was true.

No. Fucking. Way.

Bruce cared about Dick way too much for that to be true.

And why would Bruce adopt him, but not Dick? That also made no sense.

Dick was the favorite.

“You’re lying. He calls you his son all the time.”

“I know,” Dick said softly, still smiling like an asshole, “Because even if he’s never said it, and probably never will say it, he loves me. Just like he loves you.”

“Shut up,” he said, because he couldn’t figure out anything else to say. Obviously he knew Bruce, like, loved him and shit. But they didn’t have to talk about it.

But… Dick was kind of right about one point. He was adopted.

It’s not like Bruce could go back on that.

So kicked out probably wasn’t on the table.

“I promise, Jason, this isn’t going to change anything between you two. So don’t worry too much.”

Jason was stuck trying to come up with something to respond with that was more witty than 'fuck you' when he was startled by Bruce’s footsteps approaching the cockpit.

If Bruce saw him pouting, there was no doubt he’d be able to read Jason as easily as Dick Fucking Grayson had read him, and that would not be good.

He wasn’t ready for that.

“Jason,” Bruce said, sounding like he was smiling wider than Jason had ever seen him smile.

Except.

Maybe.

On his adoption day. When Bruce hugged him and said ,“Welcome to the family, Jaylad,” with his stupid dopey smile…

And… and…

“Dick,” Bruce continued, now inside the cockpit, with the little baby in his arms, “I want you boys to meet your little brother, Damian.”

And maybe…

Maybe Dick was right.

Jason had nothing to worry about.

He’d always wanted a little brother, too.

[bi-robins-club]

jason had just settled onto his couch with a jane austen novel and his favourite peach iced tea when damian crept in through his window. he sighed internally and decided to simply ignore him. he had told damian to use the front door (nevermind the fact that jason rarely used the door) and more importantly? he was freaking comfortable. after a few minutes as jason flipped idly through the book, damian cleared his throat. jason sighed again, outwardly this time and reluctantly dragged his eyes up to his youngest brother. baby bat was shivering slightly from the rain outside and jason simply rasied an eyebrow as he sipped at his tea. scowling, dami stomped over to jasons bathroom to dry off. he rolled his eyes. how dramatic. damian was acting like he sentenced titus and alfred the cat to their deaths instead of how he was actually saving jason from deep cleaning his rain soaked carpet. (he was still going to deep clean the carpet the next time he tidied up but still)

when damian stalked back into the room, looking less like a wet, angry kitten and more like a dry, angry kitten, jason titled his head back and established eye contact.

"so what brings you over to my neck of the woods, demon spawn?"

instead of snapping back like jason expected, damian simply stood there looking extremely uncomfortable. he shuffled his feet, opened his mouth then closed it and sat next to jason on the couch he splurged way too much on.

"i don't know how to tell you this" dami began, hesitant "but i believe harper is experiencing thoughts of suicide"

jason jerked up, almost knocking over his tea (and what a damn waste that would be) before fixing damian with a look. he hadnt noticed anything different in roy lately but he knew more than anyone that depression acted strangely and was hard to pinpoint. his mind raced with thoughts of why roy might be suddenly suicidal, from a sudden relapse to not getting a happy meal toy included in his 3.99 box of clogged arteries. "why do you say that, damian?"

"i have been keeping an eye on his health since he became a close confidant to you and last night he said something worrying that i am still not able to parse the meaning of" jason smiled lightly at that, in damian speak he was basically declaring that he cared for roy- if for nothing else than for how happy he made jason. still he shook it off and asked what roy had said that was worrying dami.

"he was patrolling last night" jason knew that. roy had been picking up his patrols since jason had a nasty leg wound. it was the reason he wasn't out tonight. "and he was on the phone with an unknown person, though i am inclined to believe it was either Starfire or Canary" okay, still not surprising "and then he said that the only place he could die happy was between your thighs" oh hello blue screen. yes jasons mind was in the middle of rebooting but could you hurry it along? he almost missed what damian said next. "not only does he wish for death upon himself, he wishes for you to give it to him!"

"damian" jason managed, frantically trying to figure out a way to explain to his baby brother without including his sex life. "uhh its just an expression"

damians face brightened up slightly. "really? he does not wish to smother himself between your thighs?"

"yeah, its like...like just a way to say... mind your business? mmhmm" he struggled to get out, pulling an explanation out of his ass.

"you have told father to mind his business a thousand times but i dont recal you ever using that one. is it new?"

oh god. jason would rather die again than continue this conversation.

"uhh its only used if you're close to someone" jason didnt know what he didnt wrong but dami's eyes widened in clear worry. "i thought you and father were reconnecting? has something happened? are you fighting again?"

well shit. jason had not thought this one through. fuck roy and fuck his mile wide kink that centered around jasons thighs. he was going to kill him. and he wouldnt even use his thighs. "oh nonono dami we're fine, just not as close as me and roy" he hedged, pleading to gods he didnt believe in to stop this conversation with whatever means necessary. strike him dead if need be but *please*. damians eyes narrowed "and exactly how close are you with harper, jason?" jason stared in disbelief. how had his nice relaxing evening turned into such a shitshow? damian was fine with roy when he and jason were just friends but now that he was (correctly) assuming a relationship, his over protective instincts were kicking in? christ. he remembered how when dick and babs finally started dating (again), damian seemingly lost all respect for her and called her an evil harlot more than once.

thankfully he was saved by answering in the form of the best person jason had ever met aka duke thomas. he announced his presence by awkwardly coughing. jason met his dark eyes and mouthed 'help me' over damians head. duke smiled as if it was getting pulled out of him by torture but nodded.

"hey dames, dick wanted you to join him by the docks when you finished up here" damian scowled "cant you see i am clearly not finished yet"

"hah, well dick was facing up against scarecrow and i think he needed some back up but you know him"

"yes, he wont admit he needs help when he very clearly does" damian sighed "very well, ill go check on dick. you stay and question jason. " and with that damian clambered out the window and after he disappeared from sight, jason threw his head back to stare at his ceiling and groaned. duke laughed at him.

"hey daisy duke?" duke grumbled at the nickname and jason cracked a smile "how did you know i needed back up?" duke winced and ran a hand over his dreads. he made a face and jasons soul was slowly draining out of his body. "oh haha funny story" duke rocked back on his feet and faked laughed "damians com was still connected to the channel" jason froze.

"who was on the channel oh my god" duke smiled thinly and his hand paused on his head. "other than me? everyone." jason buried his head in his hands and let out a high pitched whine. duke consolingly rubbed his shoulder. this is why jason loved him. he hadn't even laughed at jason like tim, dick or steph would or started plotting death like damian started to. he and cass would just offer support. jasons favorite brother and sister right here folks. duke sat down beside him

"listen. i know what it's like to be outed when youre not ready and when i heard damian grilling you about roy, i thought i would help" jason turned and stared at his brother. duke was staring at his hands and avoiding eye contact. "i got caught with a boy when i was 15 in high school. its pretty shitty to be gay and poor in a homophobic neighbourhood but its worse to be gay, poor and black." jason knocked shoulders with him. "if you tell me the name of whatever asshat outed you, I'll shoot him for you." duke let out a waterly laugh. "they kept bullying me for being gay but if they even listened, they would have realised that im pan" he joked "its a completely different thing after all". jason snorted

"that was horrible"

duke winced "yeah, it was wasnt it. im bad at this" it was jasons turn to avoid eye contact now.

"talia once caught me with a league operative. a male operative. i was so paranoid for days until i caught shiva leaving her rooms. i got the courage to tell her i was bi and she just patted my cheek and asked how my training was going."

duke huffed out a laugh. "bruce gives you shit but i for one think your lesbians moms are cool"

jason laughed with him "just wait until you meet Ducra. shes a badass"

"ducra?" he questioned with a weird look. "how many moms do you actually have? i knew about diana and your assassin moms but thats a new name" jason burst into laughter at the expression on dukes face. "its not fair man. steph is the only other one with a mom and you have four! you need to share" jason choked on his laughter and shoved duke.

"first of all, its only *three*. ducra is like my badass abuela"

"dont you already have a badass grandma? have you forgotten about Ma Gunn? she threatened to shoot bruce in the dick last week!"

"yes well excuse you i need strong female role models in my life, fuck you" the two of them continued to joke around for a little while longer before jason caught a flash of black kelvar outside his window and sighed. duke followed his eyes and smiled before patting jasons shoulder and pushing off. "have fun with the one strong male role model in your life. im going to see if cass needs help" both of them knew that cass wouldn't need help but jason accepted the excuse for what it was. "me and steph are still coming over to study tomorrow. college is kicking my ass and i need you to explain this English assignment to me"

jason scoffed "im not writing your essay for you"

"eh worth a try. bye jace" duke gave a two fingered salute and slipped out the window. jason took the brief reprieve to sip his tea and mourned when he discovered the ice had melted and watered down the peach taste. for the third time that night, someone crept into his window. oh well. third times the charm right? jason wasn't going to acknowledge bruce until he said something himself. it was a repeat of damian. jasom read his book as it got increasingly uncomfortable.

"jason."

"bruce" jason drawled, not lifting his eyes from his book. bruce grunted like the neanderthal he was and jason finally huffed out a heaving breath before marking his page and looking up. bruce looked supremely uncomfortable. actually his face looked exceedingly neutral but jason knew how to read bruce and that was the brow furrow of how do i deal with jason without fucking it up? jason was well famailairsed with that one.

"you know i love you" jasons own eyebrows rose. bruce only said 'i love you' like four times a year tops. and he usually never wasted it on jason. bruce deflated at whatever face jason must have made. goddamn it. this was why jason always fought with bruce with his helmet on, he couldnt control his facial expressions for shit. "no you dont know that." bruce smiled thinly and to jasons suprise, quickly crossed the room and knelt, placing his hands on jasons shoulders.

"even if you dont believe it, and its my own fault that you do and i hate that i ever caused you to even doubt my love for you, i swear that i do, jay lad" jason was completely frozen. he had expected bruce to yell at him for letting roy go unchecked on patrol last night and how irresponsible he was yada yada, not this declaration of feelings that he had no clue how to deal with. he couldnt remember the last time bruce called him that. it had to have been when he was still in those scaly green panties and pixie boots. and not the adult verison that jason picked up from a halloween store on a whim just to see roys eyes.

bruce sighed and drew jason into a hug. when bruces shoulder started getting wet, jason was horrified to realise he was crying. "i wanted you to know that i wouldnt love you any less for loving a man. but you have to know that i love you in the first place for that to happen" bruce said self deprecating.

"shut the fuck up" jason said sniffling and gripping his dads back. "i hate you"

bruce laughed softly at him before pressing a kiss to the side of jasons head. "i want you to know that i expect roy-and you- over at dinner on sunday. i need to meet the man that stole my babys heart" he murmured. jason laughed wetly "youve already met roy, you just want to con me into actually coming to family dinner"

bruce smiled "that was before i knew you two were dating. roy needs to know what hes getting into" jason leaned back enough to stare into bruces eyes and weakly punched him in the chest "dont threaten my boyfriend. he refused to look at me for two weeks after t was done with him" bruce sighed longingly "its times like this when i remember what caused me to love talia in the first place."

"bruce!" the aforementioned man laughed and hugged jason tightly before stepping back a few steps. "Sunday dinner. you and roy. 8 pm." on a whim jason reached out and snagged bruces hand. "hey" he started, swallowing "you wanna stay for a while? we could watch a movie or something" bruces eyes softened and he nodded. "let me change out of the suit."

and if roy had crept in after patrol only to see jason napping on his dads chest to a shitty action movie playing in the background and took several pictures, well that bruces fault for not waking up when roy stumbled it. (nevermind the fact that bruce had every single one of those pictures saved on his phone) (nevermind the fact that after roy put his phone away, he was greeted to the sight of batman glaring at him as he twisted a batarang around his fingers. it was sorta ruined by the fact that jasons curls was hiding the lower half of his face but roy was still adequately terrified)

[bigasswritingmagnet]

When History Comes Calling Ch 6/14

art by @snuffes

Fandom: Mass Effect Rating: Teen Pairing: none, some background Fshep/Garrus

Summary: In 2170, Mindoir was attacked by slavers. Hundreds were taken  captive, hundreds more were slaughtered. Kiryn was the only Shepard to  make it out alive. For years, he buried his grief, kept his head high,  and did whatever he needed to survive.He survived Mindoir and the batarians and when the Reapers came he survived them too.

But  when the war ends and he escapes his batarian masters to the Citadel,  the discovery that his twin sister is alive and well might just be the  thing that breaks him. The Hegemony's greatest assassin will remember  what it means to have something to lose.

AO3 link in notes! “How come Joker gets a whole bed and I have to sleep on a couch?” 

“Because I have brittle bone disease, and you once won hand to hand combat with a krogan.” 

“I have to sleep on a couch too, and I’m not complaining.” 

“Because you fit on a couch, Esteban. You’re couch sized.” 

“You could ask Garrus if you can bunk with him.” 

“No thanks. I’ve been shot all the times I want.” 

A faint pinging noise. 

“Shepard says if we don’t bring breakfast in ten minutes she starts breaking windows.” 

“Ah jeez. Garrus! Come on! We gotta go before Shepard pisses off the nurses again!” 

“I hope they let her out soon, I don’t know how much more of her that hospital can take.” 

“Well the doctor says…” 

The voices faded as the speakers passed out of the bug’s range. Kiryn very nearly scowled in his frustration. This was the third time he’d missed out on information of Keris’ medical status. 

He needed to get more listening devices. One for every room of that stupid, oversized cavern of an apartment. Nobody ever stayed put when they started a conversation, even an important one.  He never should have wasted one in the office. Nobody spent any time in there, because it was Keris’ office, and she was in the hospital. 

The kitchen had been a good call, but apparently people had conversations about highly confidential top secret Alliance projects anywhere they damn well pleased, up to and including the bathroom. Weren’t these people supposed to be professionals? One of them was the Shadow Broker for crying out loud.  

The emails had been worse than disappointing. They had been concerning. Not in content, but in quantity. He had expected the bulk of his sister’s communication to be work related. But out of an entire year’s worth of correspondence, barely fifty of them had been entirely unrelated to her work. At least they had been relatively positive messages, mostly requests to spend time together in a non-combat situation. He just hoped Keris had taken them all up on that offer. She never seemed to reply to the emails she got. 

Kiryn sat up, startling the man on the other bed. He wasn’t sure what to make of the man, who went by Tucker. He couldn't possibly know Kiryn's reputation - he was from a colony just outside Alliance space, and this was the farthest he'd ever been from home. He'd been a beet farmer, of all things. 

Kiryn had never threatened him. In fact, Kiryn barely spoke to the man. He spent most of his time staring silently at the ceiling, listening to the conversations via his listening devices. Tucker couldn't hear anything, Kiryn had made sure, so there was no way that was worrying him.Kiryn was never rude or angry or moody; he kept up his neutral expression as he always did, showing no emotions whatsoever.

So why on earth was Tucker so afraid of him?

“Good morning,” he said.

“Mmhmm,” Tucker said, dropping the datapads he’d been trying to sort. He started to retrieve them, only to drop them again when Kiryn stood up. Kiryn stared at him, trying to think of something to say that would reassure the man. The only thing that really came to mind was “don’t worry I only kill people for money and I promise I wouldn’t take a contract on you if anyone offered it”-- and Kiryn suspected that wasn’t quite going to cut it.

“Have a nice day,” he said, finally. Tucker shrank away from him as he slipped out the door. What a strange man. 

  As obsessive as C-Sec was about keeping tabs on the refugees, they sure weren't doing a very good job of watching all the possible ways in and out. This had been a loading dock, which meant there were all sorts of service entrances. Sure, those doors were locked, but they used the same keycards as the open entrances. All Kiryn had had to do was get his hands on a security pass -- neatly snagged off a passing officer too busy talking on his omnitool -- and he could come and go as he pleased. There was one door that the cameras didn't quite reach, around a corner the guards didn't bother to keep an eye on.

Kiryn was becoming quite fond of C-Sec, in a condescending sort of way. Bless their little hearts, they tried so hard. If Kiryn had been interested in doing any real damage, they'd never catch him until it was far, far too late. Truly it was fortunate that everyone was too busy trying to get themselves sorted out to even think about the kinds of political maneuverings that required murder.

He found that he enjoyed exploring the Citadel. So much of it was a novelty: being able to disappear so easily into the crowd, not needing to keep constant watch for security systems or guards, to keep to his own schedule rather than that of his target, to just casually be . He could go into a store that caught his interest without a purpose, or sit on a bench and watch people go by, or even just meander aimlessly around with no destination in mind.  

Perhaps this was what it meant to enjoy freedom.

He didn't even need to be efficient when he did have a goal in mind. He could go to the wards and find the quiet little shop that discreetly sold the tools of his trade, buy some more listening devices, and take himself up to the Presidium for lunch before heading back to Keris' apartment. No rush at all, so long as he got there before visiting hours ended. He'd been listening in for long enough to get a good sense of everyone's schedules. They tended to take shifts at the hospital with Keris, but they also had their own jobs to do. In general, the apartment was all but guaranteed to be empty between 10 am and 3pm.

"I'm getting a little worried about you, Garrus," said Tali'zorah vas Normandy, and Kiryn nearly choked on his noodles. Reaching out to grab a napkin, he turned the silver holder until he could see beside him. Only one seat away, three of Keris' friends were sitting down to lunch.

Of all the worst luck... He hunched his shoulders and tried to be as invisible as possible. They don't know what you look like, he tried to remind himself. For that matter, they didn't even know anyone had been in Keris' apartment. They weren't looking for anyone. But if they did figure it out, he couldn't risk someone looking at the security cameras and remembering the guy at the noodle place.

"What are you talking about? I'm fine," said Garrus Vakarian, the turian his sister was, actually, as a matter of fact, dating for real. Kiryn still hadn’t figured out what to think about that. 

"No, Tali's right. You spend every minute you can in the hospital." James Vega was even bigger than he sounded.   

"Where else should I be?" Vakarian snapped. Kiryn watched his reflection jab irritably at the electronic menu. "I can do my work from there just fine."

"I know," Tali’zorah said, gently, "but you don't do anything else. Or go anywhere else. At all."

"You want me to just leave her in there alone?" There were even fewer turians in batarian space than there were humans, so Kiryn wasn't as good at reading them, especially when distorted by a reflection. But even he could hear anxiety pretending to be anger when he heard it.

"C'mon, Scars, we're not saying you should never visit her. But she's not going anywhere. She's fine now, she said so herself."

"She said she was fine when she was barely out of the coma, too," Vakarian said. "After what happened last week, you still think she's fine?"

Last week? What had happened last week? Nobody had said anything last week. Unless they'd said it out of range of the listening devices. His hand tightened on his chopsticks, his ears straining to pick up every word over the bustle of the crowd.

"It was just a bad reaction to the medication. The doctors fixed it."

"And if she has a bad reaction to this stuff too? What then?"

Kiryn tried to remember to keep eating, to just blend in, be another member of the crowd. Everything suddenly tasted foul; it was hard to swallow. He agreed with Vakarian whole-heartedly. A mental image of Keris sitting small and alone in a dark hospital room, flashed across his mind. Just the thought made him feel cold. These were supposed to be her friends!

"Hey, can you pass the soy sauce?"

The voice was so unexpected Kiryn looked up. He turned away again, but the damage had been done. Vega had seen his face. Kiryn slid the bottle over, muttering something, trying to look engaged with his soup.

"Hey, do I know you? You look real familiar, man."

No. No, no, no, no.

He shook his head, his stomach twisting into knots.

"Military, right?" Shit . "I was stationed out on Arcturus Prime a few years back; were you ever out that way?"

Kiryn shook his head firmly and stood.

"No."

"But--"

Kiryn turned quickly and left, knowing this was suspicious, thinking of a thousand better ways he could have handled it... but his heart was thudding against his ribs so hard he couldn't breathe. 

He should hold off on going back to Keris' apartment for a few days, until the incident had faded from their minds. He wasn't going to. The reminder of just how much information he was missing was not one he could easily put aside. What if Vakarian was right, and something did happen and Kiryn never knew about it?

He would just need to be quick, and careful.

This time he did not go in the front door, even though he knew the code. He could not risk being seen by the cameras out front. But he'd had a chance to get his hands on blueprints of Tiberius Towers and the buildings beside it. There was a parking garage beneath them. All three had access. 

He walked faster than he should have. The adrenaline and something tight in his chest he couldn't understand drove him on. He found the elevator and stairwell. He took the stairs, but only two flights. There was the opening to the air vents. Unpleasant, slow, and difficult, but much, much safer. No risk of being seen. He could be absolutely sure no one was in the apartment before he entered.

The added bonus was that it forced him to slow down. He had to focus on making as little sound as possible, regulating his breathing, and counting the floors as he went. The cold air in the vent went a long way to clearing his mind. By the time he was high up enough, his heartbeat had slowed and he could think straight again, although he still couldn’t shake that tightness in his chest. 

It had been an unfortunate coincidence, and he hadn’t handled it well. However, given that no one knew about the bugs, no one was on the alert for any strange behavior. As far as they knew, he was just a weird guy at the ramen place. Right? Right. 

So just calm down and get a grip. Everything was fine. 

There was a series of laser tripwires criss-crossing the vents leading to Keris’ apartment. Before he could pull up his omnitool and figure out how to deactivate them, they turned off. That was….weird. He checked their schematics and found that they had genetic sequence readers, just like the door. They didn’t seem to be set to track any coming and goings. The alarm was simply wired not to go off when certain people went by. And apparently the readers weren’t very advanced, if 50% was close enough to do it. 

It might have been making his life more convenient, but he wasn’t any less annoyed at how slipshod Keris’ security system was. She should really know better.

Kyrin had a lot of little tools in his kit, things that weren’t necessary but made his job easier. Some were quite specialised. You couldn’t get past everything with an omnitool. Of particular use was a device that looked almost like something you’d find at a dentist’s office, which was able to unscrew things from around a corner. Like, say, the screws to a vent cover from inside the vent. 

Kiryn was at the top of his field for many reasons. His physical prowess and tactical skill made him one of the best. But there were two things that made him the best: he minded the little details, and he always always managed his escape routes as he went. It was for this reason that, despite his urgency, he took the time to strip the screws and glue them into place on the vent cover, so he could come and go with ease. 

This time he was not going to dawdle. In, plant the bugs, get out. He’d go to the wards and find a hotel that charged by the hour, ridiculous or not, and work on his sniper rifle. That would make him feel better. Or at least calmer.

He put a bug in every room in the apartment, every hallway. Under every couch, the poker table, the conference table, hidden in the branches of a tree, at the bottom of a painting. One in the bar, at the far back where it couldn’t be seen. 

Nothing was ever going to happen to Keris that Kiryn did not know about. Not anymore.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Dangerous Woman–Mitch Rapp

Dedicated to @alyygx​

Part 2

I looked over my shoulder to see the man still following me. I've been noticing this guy outside all my classes, sitting outside my apartment building, and following me through campus. As I walked the long way back to my apartment to try and get away from him, I pulled out my phone.

"Y/N? Sweetie, you know you aren't supposed to call my Orion phone."

"Daddy?" I said my voice breaking.

"What's wrong, baby?" My dad asked, his voice turning into his famous "Stan Hurley" voice.

"I think. . . All day. . . Someone's following me, daddy. What do I do?"

"Are you on campus?"

"Yes," I said, my voice soft.

"Don't go back to your apartment," he said quickly.

"But," I stuttered. "Where do I go?"

"Walk around campus," he said instantly. "Stay out in public, surrounded by other people. The Barn isn't that far from your campus. Walk around until I can get there."

"But. . . What if this is nothing? What if I'm just being paranoid?"

"You're not, baby. You're my daughter. If you think someone has been following you around all day, then they are." I heard him sigh before he continued, "My team and I are going after a pretty big target. I think he might be following you."

"Oh," I said under my breath.

"Listen to me, baby," my dad said gently. "I'm not going to let him hurt you. Okay? I'll be there soon."

"Okay," I stuttered. "Please hurry."

I hung up the phone and nervously walked over to a bench in the middle of campus. I looked around to see everyone walking around, minding their own business. I pulled out my book and tried to occupy myself.

Even though I sat and read for about ten minutes, I struggled to focus on my book. I jumped every time someone walked by me. I closed my eyes and took a shaky breath.

"Y/N?"

I let out a sigh of relief when I looked up from my book to see my dad walking towards me. I shoved my book in my bag, threw it over my shoulder, and jumped up. I ran over to him, instantly jumping into his arms.

"It's alright," my dad shushed as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm here."

"Daddy?" I said as I pulled out of the hug. "I don't. . . I know I need to stay in school, but I don't feel. . . I mean, I haven't. . ."

"Sweetheart, if you don't feel safe, I can fix that."

I smiled as I leaned back into his chest. He sighed as he tightened his arms around me. "Come on," he whispered. "Let's get you back to the Barn. Lucky for you, I've got a house full of assassins who will help me protect you."

He pulled out of the hug and grabbed my backpack from me. I laughed as he grabbed my hand and led me over to his car. He opened the door for me, still smiling at me.

I looked over and sucked in a breath when I saw a guy around my age in the front seat. "Oh," I said under my breath. "Hi."

He looked over his shoulder at me and sighed. I nervously looked at my hands when he turned back around. I bit my lip as I heard my dad get in the front seat.

"Rapp, this is my daughter, Y/N."

"Our special mission was coming all the way to a college campus to pick up your daughter? What? She couldn't walk the one mile back to her apartment?" The boy scoffed.

"For your information, a man was following her all day." Hurley sighed. He looked over his shoulder at me and sent me a smile.

"So?" Rapp scoffed. "It's a college campus. I'm sure a lot of men follow her around. That guy probably just thought she was hot."

"Actually," dad said through his teeth, "I saw him. It was Keller's hitman. He sent his guy to follow Y/N. Keller was going to hurt my daughter because you killed his son. He can't go after you, so he went after me."

Rapp watched as my father reached his hand back to me. I instantly grabbed it, smiling as I intertwined our fingers.

                       * * * * *

I walked into the house, my dad's arm tightly wrapped around my waist. I looked around and smiled.

"It hasn't changed," I said under my breath.

"Yeah well, you left me and I didn't feel like redecorating."

"And it's a good thing you didn't," I laughed.

"Is that Baby Hurley?"

I turned around and smiled when I saw Victor walking into the front room.

"Hi," I smiled as I walked over. I laughed as he pulled me into a hug.

"How you doing, kiddo?" He asked as he pulled out of the hug.

"I'm fine," I said, avoiding his eyes.

"What happened?" Victor asked, glancing at Hurley. "I thought you didn't want her around the guys anymore? That's why she went to college."

He looked back at me before gently grabbing my shoulders. "Y/N, what happened?"

"Keller sent his hitman after her, "my dad explained when I hesitated.

"What?!"

Victor along with the other men in the room looked between Hurley and me. They all started shouting out threats and concerns.

"What did he do?"

"I'm gonna kill him."

"We won't let him get to you."

"That asshole."

"Who goes after an innocent like that?"

"Apparently Keller does."

As the men continued to shout out half-empty threats, Rapp looked around the group with a confused look on his face.

"That's enough!" Hurley yelled over the angry assassins. Once they all calmed down, my dad walked over to me and wrapped his arm around my waist. "Until we take care of Keller, Y/N is staying here with us. She'll be under protection and supervision at all times."

"Dad," I whispered.

"Y/N," he interrupted me, "I told you we would protect you and we will. At all times. One assassin will be by your side every day and at night, we'll have guards outside your room."

"But, Dad," I sighed.

"No," he interrupted me again. He turned towards me and leaned down, grabbing my hands in his. "I promised that I would protect you. And that's what we're going to do. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I'm not losing you like we lost your mother."

I sighed as I instantly wrapped my arms around him. He laughed as he wrapped his arms tightly around me, giving me a squeeze.

"We've got your back." We pulled out of our hug to see Victor nodding at us. "Baby Hurley is going to be perfectly safe with us."

                       * * * * *

I've been back at the Barn about a week now and things have gone back to normal. Everyone has already gotten used to me being around. Well, almost everyone.

Mitch Rapp is the only one who has been uneasy about my presence. Then again, he joined Orion after I left for college two years ago. So it's understanding that he isn't used to me yet.

I was sitting at the kitchen table when Mitch walked in. He didn't even look at me as he grabbed a beer out of the fridge. I sighed as he opened it and instantly left.

I stopped writing my paper and leaned back in my chair. I ran my fingers through my hair, sighing in defeat.

Why does he hate me so much? Since the very beginning, he's given me the cold shoulder.

"You okay, kiddo?"

I looked over to see Victor walk over to the fridge and grab a beer. I smiled as he grabbed a second one, opened them both, and walked over to me. He sat down across from me and handed me the second beer.

"Trouble with homework?" He tried to joke. His smile fell when he saw the look on my face. "What's wrong?"

"It's just," I sighed. "Mitch Rapp doesn't like me very much, does he?"

"He doesn't like anyone," Victor laughed as he slightly shook his head. He stopped laughing when he saw the loon on my face. "Don't take it too personally. He's sworn off women since. . ."

"Since what?" I asked, hesitantly.

"Since his fiancé was killed by terrorists 18 months ago," Victor sighed.

"Oh," was all I could say. I looked down at my computer, flooded with guilt.

"Don't worry, kiddo," he sighed. "Give him time and he'll get used to having you around. Remember when you were about 13 and you moved in here from your grandparent's house? All the guys were totally freaked around you. It took us weeks to get used to you."

"That's true," I chuckled as I remembered when I first came here. "I thought the guys were gonna have a heart attack every time I walked into the room."

"Exactly," Victor laughed. "Just give Rapp another week or so and he'll get used to having you around."

I sighed as he stood up and patted me on the shoulder. I bit my lip as he walked out of the kitchen. I slowly went back to doing my homework, partly distracted by the newfound information about Mitch Rapp.

                       * * * * *

A few days later, I was walking across the house when my dad jogged up to me.

"Hi," I laughed as he stopped in front of me. "Everything okay?"

"It's fine," he smirked at me. "I just. . . Come with me."

"Where are we going?" I stuttered as he pulled me down the hallway. He didn't answer as he continued to lead me through the house until we got to his office.

"Dad, what are we. . ." I stopped talking when we walked in and saw Rapp sitting in front of my dad's desk. "What is this?" I asked softly as I turned towards my dad.

"Listen," he started to explain, "I've been thinking and even though you are surrounded by assassins, I would feel more comfortable if you at least learned how to shoot a gun."

"But. . ."

"I know," he sighed as he grabbed my hand and walked me over to the other chair in front of his desk. Still holding my hand, he sat on his desk in front of me.

"I know I used to say I didn't want you to have anything to do with this side of my life, but this is about your safety. In case something does happen, I want you to be able to defend yourself."

"I thought that's why you have an assassin around me 24/7," I laughed. I quickly stopped laughing when I saw the look on my dad's face. I cleared my throat before looking back down at mine and my dad's intertwined hands.

"Are you going to teach me?" I said under my breath, not looking up from our hands.

"Actually, Rapp here is going to help me train you."

I shot my head up and out of the corner of my eye I saw Rapp do the same thing.

"Wait, what?" Rapp scoffed. "You want me to train her how to hold a gun?"

I looked down, my cheeks burning when Rapp let out a sarcastic laugh. His laugh was cut off by my dad glaring at him. "Rapp, need I remind you that she's my daughter? Plus, I'm your boss. If I tell you to train my daughter on how to shoot a gun, then that is exactly what you're going to do."

Rapp took a deep breath before sighing. "When would you like us to start, sir?"

I looked over at him wanting to scoot away from him, but I held my ground.

"Now would be nice." My dad nodded at him before turning towards me. "I'll check in on you two in about an hour. I have a meeting with Irene to talk about a potential plan to finish Keller off once and for all."

I nodded as he stood up and pressed a kiss to my forehead. Before he walked away, he turned towards Rapp and threatened, "You better take care of her, Rapp. And try not to be yourself."

"What does that mean?" Rapp scoffed.

"Try and be a nice person," Hurley sighed. "For my sake and for hers."

We both sat there as Hurley left the room. I sighed, nervously twiddling my fingers as I waited. I wasn't sure if I was waiting for him to say something or for me to gather enough courage to say something.

"I guess we should go," he sighed before standing up.

"Don't get too excited on me," I mumbled. I looked up, biting my lip when the expression on his face clearly told me he had heard me.

"Let's just get this over with," he sighed as he turned on his heel and walked away. I quickly stood up and followed him.

When I finally got to the gun range, I hesitated outside the door. Guns have always made me nervous. I grew up with my dad working for the CIA, but I've never held a gun. My mom always hated them and told me how dangerous they were.

"Are you coming or what?" Rapp said through his teeth.

"Hey!" I looked over to see Victor on the other side of the room. "Stop being such an ass, Rapp. Take it easy on her."

Rapp just rolled his eyes as he roughly grabbed a gun, threw the strap over his head, and aimed the gun at the target. I slightly jumped when he pulled the trigger several times.

He tossed the gun back on the table and turned towards me, crossing his arms over his chest. The way he was smirking at me made me feel uneasy.

Victor jogged over to me, glaring at Rapp as he passed him. "Hey," he whispered. "Take a deep breath, Y/N. He's just being an ass."

"Victor," I said under my breath. "I hate guns."

"I know, kiddo." He sighed, gently rubbing his hands up and down my arms. "But the only reason Hurley wants you trained is just in case. He wants you as safe as possible."

"I know," I sighed. I took a deep breath before standing up straighter. "I am Stan Hurley's daughter. It's about time I embrace that."

"Thatta girl," Victor said sending me a smirk and a wink. "Go get him."

I nodded as I walked over to Rapp. "You ready?" He asked, not trying to hide his annoyance.

"I guess," I stuttered, my nerves jumping as I got closer to him.

"Here," he said. I jumped as he shoved the gun into my hands. "Show me what you've got."

"I've. . . I've never. . ."

Rapp sighed as he took the gun from me and started showing me the different parts and how to hold it. Once I got it down, he pointed at the target without saying a word.

I took a shaky breath as I adjusted my aim. I took another shaky breath before putting my finger on the trigger.

"Would you just shoot already?" Rapp sighed. I glanced over at him to see him leaning against the table with a bored look on his face.

I looked back over at the target and took another deep breath. After a second of hesitation, I pulled the trigger. My eyes widened as I saw I actually hit the target.

"I got it," I said under my breath.

"You didn't just get it," Rapp said. "You hit the bullseye."

I looked over at him to see him already watching me with wide eyes and his jaw practically on the floor.

"Damn," he said under his breath. "Guess you really are Hurley's daughter, Ace."

                       * * * * *

Rapp has been training me for about a week now and my aim has gotten more and more accurate. After I had shooting down, Mitch offered to start training me in hand-to-hand combat. After my dad okayed it, of course.

The more time Rapp and I have spent together, the more comfortable we are around each other. I wasn't as nervous around him as I was at first. And I think he was more comfortable around me.

I walked into the kitchen to get something to drink. I sat down at the island and slowly drank my cup of coffee. I gasped, taken back when I saw Rapp leaning in the kitchen doorway.

"You know you can come in, right?" I laughed when I noticed him not making any move to come in.

"Yeah," he chuckled nervously as he ran his fingers through his hair. I watched as he slowly walked in, hesitating before grabbing a beer. We sat in silence, neither one of us saying anything.

"I was talking to Hurley about you," he said, being the first to break the silence. "I told him about your progress. He was impressed. He kept laughing and saying, "That's my girl"."

I couldn't help but blush. I looked back down at my mug of coffee, avoiding his gaze. "Thanks," I said as I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

"You're getting pretty good," Rapp commented. "Must be in the Hurley blood."

"Must be," I chuckled. The silence returned as we drank our drinks. I was just about to get up and put my mug in the sink but stopped when Rapp broke the silence again.

"Can I ask you something?" Rapp stuttered.

"Sure," I shrugged.

"When we picked you up, Hurley reached his hand back and you took it. Why?"

I laughed, making him look up at me. "When I was younger, my dad traveled a lot for his job with the CIA. He always took my mom and me with him. I didn't mind growing up around the world. The only thing was, I always got car sick. So, my dad would reach behind and hold my hand."

"And that helped?"

"Yeah," I chuckled. "It did."

Before he could say something, alarms started going off. Rapp and I both looked at each other, our facial expressions matching.

"What is that?" I stuttered.

"The perimeter alarms," Rapp said as he walked across the kitchen.

"What do they mean?"

I gasped as he pulled out two guns from behind the fridge. "It means someone is breaking in."

"And that someone is. . ."

"Keller."

As soon as that name left his lips, my heart jumped into my throat. "Oh no," I said under my breath. My hands started to shake as Rapp walked over to me.

"Here," he said handing me the gun. When I didn't take it, he sighed. "Y/N, come on. We've gotta go. I know you're scared. Use that."

"Rapp," I stuttered.

He grabbed my hand as he lowered his voice. "Listen, you are in the middle of a house full of assassins. You're going to be fine. I promise."

"But. . ."

"Hey," he said gently. "I'm not going to leave your side, Ace. You can trust me."

I nodded as he tried to hand me the gun again. I hesitated before finally taking it.

"Let's go."

We ran through the house, trying to find my father. Whenever we came across one of Keller's men, Rapp instantly took them out. Me, on the other hand, just tried to stay out of the way.

While Rapp was fighting the hitman Keller sent after me a couple of days ago, I suddenly felt someone walked up behind me. I gasped as I saw Keller smirking at me.

"Where's Daddy Dearest?" He mocked. I looked over my shoulder to see Rapp losing his fight.

"I umm. . . I just. . . He's. . ."

I gasped and took a step back as he took a step closer to me. "Don't be scared of me, honey. I'm just going to bring you with me."

With that, he charged me. Thanks to my training with Rapp, I saw Keller's advancements coming. I instantly dodged him, getting ready to fight back. I noticed that he was taken back by my ability to counteract all his punches. My gun was knocked out of my hands and disappeared somewhere in the middle of our fight.

I gasped as he wrapped his arm around me, starting to drag me down the hallway. I looked up right as Rapp took down his guy. He looked over, his eyes widening when he saw Keller dragging me away.

Before we could get around the corner, Rapp charged us. He tackled both of us to the ground, giving me the chance to get out of Keller's hold. Breathing hard, I backed up as Rapp started fighting him.

When my back was to the wall, I noticed Rapp's discarded gun not far away from me. I carefully made my way over to it, my hands shaking as I grabbed it.

I stood up and aimed the gun, waiting for the right time. When it came, I didn't hesitate to pull the trigger. I watched, my breath stuck in my throat as Keller fell to the ground. Rapp looked down at Keller's body before slowly looking at me.

"Y/N," Rapp said under his breath. Just then, Dad, Victor, and a few other assassins came around the corner.

"Y/N!" My dad ran over and wrapped his arms around my frozen body. He pulled out of the hug and looked over his shoulder at Rapp.

"You killed Keller," he said under his breath. "You saved her."

"Actually," Rapp smirked at me. "It wasn't me. It was your daughter."

Everyone looked at me with wide eyes. "Y/N, baby, is that true?"

"I umm. . . I guess. . . I was just. . . He attacked me and then Rapp came in and. . ." I stuttered, still shaking.

My dad laughed as he pulled me back into the hug. "Good job, baby girl." He whispered, not pulling out of the hug. He rubbed my back as I slowly stopped shaking.

"Nicely done, Baby Hurley." Victor laughed. I leaned out of the hug to see Victor and the other assassins leaving.

Except for Rapp. He stood there with a smile as he watched my father and me. Dad finally pulled out of the hug, looking down at me with soft eyes.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Dad whispered, slightly rubbing his hands up and down my arms.

"I'm fine," I stuttered, not even sounding convincing to myself. He sighed before finally letting me go.

"Look, I have to go through and check on my guys. Plus, we've got a mess to clean up. I'll check on you in a little while?"

"Okay," I stuttered. "I'll just. . . I'll be in my room."

"Good." I smiled as he leaned over and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "I'm proud of you, kid."

"Thanks, Daddy," I said under my breath.

"Love you, baby girl."

"Love you too."

I sighed as he turned around and walked away. I wrapped my arms around myself, my cheeks burning when I looked over to see Rapp still watching us. I tucked my hair behind my ear as Rapp took a few steps closer to me.

"Nice shootin', Ace."

"Thanks," I said under my breath, retucking that same piece of hair behind my ear. I gasped as he took a step closer, gently reaching up and putting his hand on my shoulder.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, his voice soft.

"I'm fine," I sighed, looking down at my hands. I sucked in a breath when Rapp pulled me into his chest, instantly wrapping his arms around me.

"I know you're not," he whispered. "But I'll pretend to believe you anyway."

[isabilightwood]

THE PROBLEM WITH AUTHORITY - CHAPTER 5

Or, Sacrifice Summon! Jiang Yanli is here to make things right, be the ultimate big sister (step 1: bring back her dead brother), and maybe steal the Peacock throne in the process

AO3[1][2][3][4]

Wen Qing knocked the mortar and pestle to the ground as she jumped to her feet, the red-orange powder scattering across the ground.

Belatedly, Jiang Yanli realized she had stepped into view.

“Who are you?” Wen Qing demanded, reflexively reaching into her sleeve for a needle. She came up empty. “This is a warded house. You can’t be here.”

Wen Qing was wan and pale, like the sun had not touched her skin in long years. Dark circles ringed her eyes, though cultivators could manage on little sleep. A woman for whom the nightmare of their youth had never ended.

“I -” Jiang Yanli’s voice caught, and she pressed her hands to her throat. Her umbrella dropped to the ground, and the downpour rapidly soaked her through. “You’re alive.”

“How did you get through the wards?” She demanded again, scrutinizing Jiang Yanli as though trying to place her.

She must be wondering why a Jin is happy to see a Wen alive. Qin Su cut through her shock.

Her thoughts inched into motion, like wading through the muddy shallows of a lake after a long day in the unforgiving sun.

Of course. Wen Qing was not trying to place Jiang Yanli, but Qin Su, who she had never met. She should say something, to allay her fears. Something, anything to explain. But she could do nothing but stare at those suspicious eyes, in that impossible face.

A stirring of air against her neck heralded Nie Huaisang’s arrival at her side. “Wen Qing? Now this is a surprise.”

Wen Qing laughed, harsh and rough, like she hadn’t had reason to in a long time. “Six years in the same rooms and I’ve finally lost it. Nie Huaisang is not standing outside my prison.”

“Nie Huaisang is standing outside your prison.” He swept his fan outwards, giving a shallow bow.

Wen Qing considered this, and let her shoulders slump. “Ok, then. Who are you?”

Jiang Yanli hesitated.

Maybe you shouldn’t have this conversation out in the open. What if a servant comes by with dinner, or something? Qin Su suggested, gently coaxing. Jiang Yanli was reminded that though she usually thought of her like a shimei, Qin Su had been a mother. And from how the young disciples ran to her excitedly, trusting and curious, she had been a good one. However acerbic she might have become, Qin Su still had a good heart.

Qin Su flinched, and closed herself off even as Jiang Yanli gathered herself together. And so she did not hear Jiang Yanli wonder if the same could be said for her.

“Before I say, may I come inside? If anyone comes by...” She glanced over her shoulder, and saw a servant dash past, carrying a lidded tray, unprotected under the rain.

Wen Qing studied her, and Jiang Yanli stared back, unblinking. Finally, she sighed.

“You might as well. But I’m not making you tea.” Wen Qing agreed, shockingly apathetic. Though Wen Qin had often pretended indifference, it had never felt like she meant it before. Now, she accepted an apparent stranger with unknown motives entering her room like it was nothing.

Once, in the calm before the storm after the Sunshot Campaign, A-Xian had joked that if someone tried to kill him, it would be the most interesting thing to happen that week. When he saw how distressed the idea made her, he’d rushed to assure her he didn’t actually want to be assassinated, and never repeated the sentiment. But it had been the truest thing he’d said in those months.

In spirit, this felt the same.

“And you’re going to sit on a towel.” Only as Wen Qing spoke did she realize rivulets of water were dripping from her hem and sleeves, and the pins in her hair dragged heavily at her scalp.

In her own body, Jiang Yanli would have spent the next week lying fevered in bed at least. Now, she would simply have to change before returning to the conference.

Reaching into a cabinet, Wen Qing retrieved not one, but an armful of towels, and lay them out as Jiang Yanli maneuvered herself over the windowsill. As she retreated to her desk, Jiang Yanli dripped her way into a seat on the towel across from her.

Nie Huaisang perched on the windowsill, one leg hanging outside. He, unlike her, had remained mostly dry. “I’ll keep watch,” he said, though he posed like he expected to model for a painting.

But then, maybe Wen Qing was his witness, and he was lying. She couldn’t be sure. The fact that they were both liars did not mean he would be honest with her.

“Explain.” Wen Qing demanded, folding her arms and setting her jaw in a way that did not scream willingness to listen.

And there was the question. Was it safe to reveal her identity? Was it any more dangerous to tell Wen Qing she was Jiang Yanli than Qin Su? If there was a chance she would tell Jin Guangyao, either would crumble her nascent plans, and she’d be lucky to flee to Yunmeng with her life.

Yet she did not believe that Wen Qing would ever be won over by Jin Guangyao’s act.

Well. Wen Qing had always appreciated bluntness. She’d grown up in a snake den, and could smell deceit from a mile away. If Jiang Yanli wanted Wen Qing to trust her, there was only one option.

“I’m a dead woman in a living woman’s body. This,” She gestured at her face. “Is Qin Su, Jin-furen. As for me, you once sheltered my brothers and I at your Wen Ning’s request, and it cost you everything.”

An inscrutable collection of emotions passed over Wen Qing’s face, settling on anger. “That isn’t po—” She cut off, jerking back.

“So you know it is possible.”

Wen Qing’s brows narrowed further. “Prove it.”

And — that was a problem. Nie Huaisang had caught her in a slip of the tongue.  That would not work with Wen Qing. She couldn’t say which stories A-Xian might have told her, or which might have entered common knowledge. She and Wen Qing had been friendly, but not close. “It’s not well known that you helped my brothers and me. But if anyone was actually listening...”

“I did,” Nie Huaisang volunteered, grimacing as he once again admitted to possessing knowledge. “I imagine your late husband’s friends do as well.

These are trying times for him. Qin Su, who had been slowly emerging, surfaced fully to say. If people know he uses his brain, they might expect things from him.

Her guard frayed from recent revelations, Jiang Yanli giggled aloud. “Sorry, Qin Su said something.” And I’m sorry to you as well, she told Qin Su, though she could read the feeling within her.

Qin Su’s exaggerated good humor deflated. I can’t keep running away from him — from the memory of my son forever.

“A joke at my expense, no doubt.” Nie Huaisang tilted his head back to rest on the frame, his mouth curled upwards.

“Did you say Qin Su is within you? But —” Wen Qing snapped her jaw shut.

“That’s not how the array works? Yes, I noticed that. Nevertheless, here we are.” Her hands fisted in her soaked robes, replacing body-warmed fabric with the cold drape of her skirts. Shivering again, she forced her hands to let go, and smoothed out the fabric. “But you wanted proof.”

Wen Qin nodded sharply, retrieving a worn, threadbare red pouch that had been hidden behind the pile of books. She clutched it in her hands.

Jiang Yanli had not, yet, thought of anything truly conclusive to offer. “Anyone could guess we mostly spoke about our brothers, under the circumstances. I must confess those days are something of a blur, thanks to my fever.”

“That doesn’t prove your identity, no.” Wen Qing agreed shortly, but Jiang Yanli barely registered her tone.

The open book to Wen Qing’s left was new, a half-labeled diagram of a person’s meridians on the page. A still wet brush and bowl of ink sat nearby. She didn’t recognize the herbs that had spilled from the mortar, despite her experience in both cooking and field medicine. But the stack of thin volumes with deteriorating bindings were too low quality for even a non-cultivating Jin servant to purchase.

Yet she had seen their like in Koi Tower before.

“Quite the quandary,” Nie Huaisang shifted to put a hand behind his head, his other reaching out to brush the finally slowing fall of rain.

Perhaps not. “Those tattered journals — You’re the one who’s been transcribing A-Xian’s work, aren’t you?” Wen Qing’s eyes widened, and she knew she was correct.  “Would it convince you if I read one?”

“His journals may as well have been written in code for all Jin Guangyao and his minions can make sense of it.” Wen Qing shifted on her knees, her posture losing its perfection in a way that somehow conveyed challenge. “I suppose it would. I haven’t worked through this one yet.”

Selecting a volume from the middle of the stack, she held it out to Jiang Yanli.

She took it with trembling hands, wary of which of A-Xian’s secrets she might find within. Flipping it open, she found lotuses. “He tried to grow lotuses in the Burial Mounds?” She asked, but Wen Qing remained impassive.

Jiang Yanli would gain no sympathy, without sufficient proof. “This describes his attempts to grow less-hardy crops in lands tainted by resentful energy, beginning with the ‘noble lotus’, because ‘as Shijie always said, lotuses are a vital part of any diet, and radishes are rabbit food.” She couldn’t help but smile, almost able to hear A-Xian say those words. Certain, for the space of a breath, that if she turned, he would be standing behind her, grinning and no older than ten. “I definitely never said that last part.”

Lotuses; however, should be a part of any diet. They were, objectively, the best vegetable. Less popular in seafood-loving Lanling than Yunmeng, unfortunately.

A-Xuan’s pond had been maintained, but only as a memorial. No one who truly knew them had been involved in that decision.

“He predicted lotuses could only tolerate a certain level of resentment, and calculated that the levels of the patch of land must be reduced by 60%. He played Chenqing to draw out spirits bound to the plot and — there’s a drop of spilled ink there— the bound spirits willingly moved on.” She turned the page, hoping to find the missing link. “Oh. This is.” There was an unusually detailed piece of artwork filling the next page, depicting Wen Ning and a boy who must be a younger Lan – no, Wen – Yuan elbow deep in a muddy pond of lotuses in full bloom, Wen Qing with an overflowing basket of laundry on her hip, watched them fondly. Smaller figures were grouped together in the background, bent over in the fields, or sitting together over the mending.

This had been the Burial Mounds they all so feared.

“What is it?” Wen Qing asked.

Wordlessly, Jiang Yanli turned the book towards her.

Wen Qing took a shuddering breath, and looked away.

It was a reminder, Jiang Yanli realized, that Wen Qing was the only one left.

Except that she wasn’t. “The boy, A-Yuan. He’s alive.” She said, breathless. “Lan Wangji adopted him. No one else would have guessed, but...”

To her, it had been obvious.

Wen Qing met her gaze, disbelief warring with naked hope. “You’re not lying. And you’re really —”

“I can cook for you if you need more proof.” She smiled, looking down at her hands. “The servants would get a shock out of Jin-furen in the kitchen.”

Soup-making is not a required skill for Qin cultivators. Qin Su said. I could not be trusted not to poison myself.

Only the basics had been required of the Jiang. But Jiang Yanli had taken to it, latching onto the skill instinctively. A young girl who had finally found something she was good for, beyond a marriage alliance.

“Jiang Yanli.” Wen Qing breathed, her lips parting as her grip on her needle tightened.

The sound of her name on Wen Qing’s lips felt like a warm embrace, though Wen Qing had never touched her in anything but a professional manner. The first time she was recognized by someone who mattered to her before everything went wrong.

She shivered, but not from the cold.

Concerned, Wen Qing got to her feet. “I’ve changed my mind. Since you’re not a stranger or a lying impostor, I will make you tea.” She slapped a heating talisman on a cast iron teapot with a peacock motif emblazoned on the side and turned to grab a folded robe from a nearby cabinet. The robe, she handed to Jiang Yanli. “And put this on, or you’ll catch your death.”

She held the robe away from her body. “I won’t. While many of my problems carried over into my new body, my health ones did not.”

“How did I never notice you’re just as bullheadedly stubborn as your brothers?” Wen Qing sighed. “Wei Wuxian told me he invented his drying talisman to hide the evidence when he pushed Jiang Wanyin in the lake, but he never figured out how to make it work while someone was still wearing the clothing.”

Letting her will be faster and less suspicious than going back to the Fragrance Hall to change, Qin Su pointed out.

They were both right, but — since when had accepting help become so difficult?

Maybe she was just like her brothers, when she wasn’t spending all her time as their moderating influence. “I am a Jiang. But I appreciate the gesture.” She hurried behind a folding screen to change, and attached the offered quick-drying talismans.

When she stepped back out in Wen Qing’s robe, she said, “I have some questions.”

“I can guess them.” She poured a cup of tea for Jiang Yanli as she knelt on a fresh, dry pillow.

Jiang Yanli cradled the cup close to her chest, savoring its warmth. “I missed much of what happened while I was  -” shell-shocked and unable to summon the expected wailing sobs, terrified for her brother, while still hoping Zixuan would walk through the doors, and it had all just been a big mistake — “attending to my husband’s mourning rites. You turned yourself in?”

“They promised Wei Wuxian and my clan would live if A-Ning and I turned ourselves in, and then killed everyone except us.” What might have been a broken, bitter laugh tore from Wen Qing’s throat. “Though I don’t think Jin Guangshan ever knew about me, since his son used me to make his heart give out.”

“What on earth made him think it was a good idea to keep you around?” Nie Huaisang asked. “Meant in an entirely complimentary way of course.”

Jiang Yanli grimaced. “What Nie-zongzhu means ask is—”

“Exactly what he said. It’s fine.” Wen Qing rolled her eyes. Nie Huaisang awakened Jiang Yanli’s eldest sibling instincts simply by existing, so perhaps Wen Qing was experiencing the same phenomena. “They wanted A-Ning as a tool, to figure out how Wei Wuxian made him, and how to control him. Me, well — there’s no one else in the world who knows more about golden cores.” She wasn’t bragging. The woman who had kept Wen Ruohan in a semblance of stability for years and kept company with the Yiling Patriarch had no need for boasting. “My familiarity with Wei Wuxian’s work was merely a bonus, he said, though he’s gotten more out of my translations than his original goal.”

“His original goal?” Jiang Yanli took a careful sip of tea. It was a rich golden color, with the fermented taste of a pu’er, of mushrooms and dried fruits and honey. Wen Qing had left the box out, and its label read Qishan, and a date two decades earlier. A purposeful reminder, then, of everything Wen Qing had lost.

A tea or a wine might age into readiness, but Wen Qing lived on borrowed time.

“To strengthen his golden core.” She said. Knocking back her own tea like it was wine, she poured another. “A lack of proper instruction and years with a fake manual left his stunted. Of course, I’m his prisoner. I’d prefer he stay that way. So he doesn’t trust anything I come up with.”

“Greedy.” Nie Huaisang said, “Meng Yao would never have kept you around.”

“If Jin Guangyao erred, it’s our gain.” This time, when Jiang Yanli reached out, Wen Qing let their fingers brush before pulling away.

Shaking her head, Wen Qin continued, “If you’re hoping to use my skill against him, that would be difficult. He takes my methods and has them tested extensively before use. Especially on himself.”

“I’m certain you could find away around that,” Jiang Yanli busied her hands with the teapot to keep from offering unwelcome comfort. “But you’re A-Xian’s family. You are worth finding, whether or not you can be of use.”

Rather than risk eye contact Wen Qing stared at Jiang Yanli’s hands. “Though Jin Guangyao understands it’s not so easy to correct his block, he’s starting to get impatient. Now that his known enemies are out of the way, I don’t know how much longer he’ll take to accept I’d need to treat him directly to have any effect. He would never allow that, of course. I’d kill him.”

Qin Su made an offer to hold him down that Jiang Yanli did not repeat.

“Speaking of murder, did you help kill my Da-ge?” Nie Huaisang asked pleasantly.

“Unless he used something a second time, no.” Wen Qing said. Then startled, “Chifeng-zun is dead?”

Pointedly, he hummed a tune that sounded… off, somehow. When Wen Qing just stared at him, he huffed. “He used an obscure musical cultivation score.”

Wen Qing raised her chin high, and stared him down. “I am the last person anyone would ask about music. My attempts at a lullaby made A-Yuan cry. I couldn’t even clap a rhythm when Wei Wuxian needed one for his cultivation. He had to ask Popo.”

Nie Huaisang did not loose his flippancy when he said, “Then you can live. Perhaps, if you’re willing to trade some information, I could do something about your brother’s situation.”

Wen Qing looked him over, calculating. Glancing at Jiang Yanli only briefly, she nodded. “I doubt there’s much you can do for me, but if you can find a way to free A-Ning, that would be worth it.”

“We came here looking for a witness to Jin Guangshan’s murder.” Nie Huaisang leaned towards them, balanced precariously on his perch.

I’d almost forgotten. Qin Su said softly. Jiang Yanli had forgotten.

“Well, I mixed the poison. But the person you came for might be upstairs. I was restricted to this floor a year ago now? Or so? It’s difficult to keep track of time, these days.” At that, Wen Qing seemed deeply disturbed. Jiang Yanli could understand why — days passing in infrequently interrupted isolation could be no less disorienting than waking up one day to find her infant son reached her waist. “Sometimes, I hear footsteps overhead.”

“Excellent!” Nie Huaisang snapped his fan closed, and jumped down outside the window. A gray flash blasted upwards a moment later.

In his absence, silence crept in. Wen Qing’s hands shook as she reached for her teacup, and she let them fall in her lap.

“I should return to the banquet soon.” Jiang Yanli said, finally. “But I am wondering. What is Jin Guangyao using to keep you here?”

One of Wen Qing’s brows quirked up. “You must have noticed the wards.”

“Yes, but they’re based on A-Xian’s work, and you know it better than anyone else alive.” And after his complicity in her family’s murder, Wen Qing must be unable to overcome his means on her own.

“If it was only those wards, yes.” Grimly, Wen Qing pulled up her sleeve.

An inky blackness ringed her wrist, a chain of distorted characters that wavered before her eyes. Unthinking, Jiang Yanli reached out to touch, but the characters dissolved and scattered up her arm as her fingers connected with warm skin. There was an intake of breath, and Wen Qing hurriedly drew back her hand. As she did so, the characters began to creep back into place, now somehow less comprehensible to her mind. “Sorry, I didn’t think.”

“It’s fine.” Wen Qing refused to meet her eyes. “This is evidence, I think, of the only time Jin Guangyao lowered himself to personally research demonic cultivation. Wei Wuxian filled dozens of journals with his inventions and theories and half-baked ideas he dreamed up at three in the morning. But he never would have come up with anything like this, and Xue Yang couldn’t have managed it.”

“What does it do?” She asked, certain she wouldn’t like the answer.

“If I take a single step out that door, A-Ning will not only die again, but his soul will be shredded.” At that, Jiang Yanli gasped. Wen Qing’s face crumpled. “They — they kept him for experiments. Like he’s nothing more than a mouse.”

“Oh, Wen Qing.” Jiang Yanli wanted, instinctively, to hold out her arms, and let Wen Qing fall against her shoulder. But she knew better than to offer. Wen Qing hunched inwards, clasping her arms at the elbows.

A thump from outside the window startled them, but it was only Nie Huaisang, resuming his perch. “There’s a woman upstairs. She didn’t notice me. But you, Wen-guniang, must have much more interesting information.”

“There’s a problem with that.” Wen Qing had straightened her posture while Jiang Yanli was turned away. Unwilling to show Nie Huaisang weakness, where she’d let some of what she was feeling through when it was only Jiang Yanli. “You can’t come back here. Not when Jin Guangyao is in Koi Tower, at least.”

Jiang Yanli thought she might have a solution. “Are you familiar with A-Xian’s papermen?”

“The ones he pranked the Lans with back in the Cloud Recesses? Of course, but he never had cause to use them in the Burial Mounds. I don’t know the talisman.”

“I do. Here, let me demonstrate.” Once, her mother had confined A-Xian to his room for a month, and for the week it took her father to decide the punishment was too harsh, the talismans had been their only contact.

Jiang Yanli borrowed a talisman paper, since her own were ruined by the rain and cut out the shape of a paperman. She focused, but the world didn’t swirl down into a mouse’s perspective. She registered the empty feeling in her mind at the same time as the paperman twitched, and stood. “Qin Su?”

The paperman nodded. <This is weird> Qin Su’s voice said, as though from a strange distance. Wen Qing and Nie Huaisang startled.

“You can hear her?” She asked, breathless.

Wen Qing stared, open-mouthed at the tottering paper figure “You said she was still around but — this shouldn’t be possible.”

Qin Su’s little paper body wobbled from the center of the table towards the edge, but before she got halfway, it fell, inert. Qin Su was back in her mind. I lost my hold on it. Looking at a giant version of your own face is extremely disorienting.

Much in the way seeing a face that didn’t belong to her in the mirror every morning was disorienting, she imagined.

Still, that was amazing! I need to try it again. Qin Su continued. I wonder how long I could last in there with practice. Just being able to move again…

“You’re welcome to try to figure out what happened.” She told Wen Qing. If anyone living could figure out what had happened to Qin Su’s soul, and if it had affected Jiang Yanli’s, it was her.

“Another time. You said you needed to go.” Wen Qing urged.

“Yes.” She agreed. She’d stayed far too long as it was. “After you make one of your own."

Jiang Yanli returned to the banquet in talisman dried robes, with Wen Qing’s paperman in her pocket. It was uneventful, in comparison. Her absence had gone largely unremarked. the dramatics of Nie Huaisang were universally understood to be time consuming. That she returned without him only helped sell the ruse.

That he’d been cagey about what he wanted to speak to Wen Qing about without her was less comforting.

It was another few hours before Jiang Yanli could retire for the night, but she absorbed little of the conversation.

Finally sliding open the door to her bedroom, Jiang Yanli lit the candles with a wave of her hand. The thrill that went through her at the fact that she could turned to terror at the sight of a figure sitting cross-legged in the middle of her floor.

Until she saw that it was Nie Huaisang. Which wasn’t entirely reassuring, but was unlikely to end in bloodshed.

“I’d appreciate if you could remove your sword from my throat.” He tapped Chunsheng’s edge.

Jiang Yanli was startled to realize she’d drawn the sword. Qin Su’s instinctive panic had bled into her, and she’d acted without thinking. Her ears rung from the force of Qin Su’s scream, visions of splattered blood flashing with each blind.

She sheathed the sword with a sigh. “I’d recommend not hiding in our rooms in the future. Traumatic experiences. Qin Su still wants to gut you.”

She was actually stuck in the panic stage, her volatile emotions ricocheting around the confines of Jiang Yanli’s mind like a coin caught in a crevice. But a part of Jiang Yanli wanted to gut him for her, a heretofore unknown bloodlust that crawled back with her from the grave.

I think that’s just me, Qin Su managed. But Jiang Yanli knew better. I don’t think I could have stopped in time.

“Yes, well. That’s nothing new! Someone tries at least once a week.” Nie Huaisang waved her off, unshaken. “Wen Qing and I came up with a brilliant idea! Just a tiny seed of a suggestion, really.”

She’d been working with Nie Huaisang for one day, almost to the minute, and he’d already begun involving her in schemes that would probably get her killed. A second time. Dragged Wen Qing into it too, as though she weren’t in a dangerous enough position already.

Rather than sit, Jiang Yanli crossed her arms, taking up a position between Qin Su’s two ink paintings. “I’ll listen, if you promise this won’t happen again. And leave, after.”

“If you still want me too!” He agreed brightly. “You should get Wen Qing out for this. The lynchpin was her idea. Very clever. I would have just found someone convenient. I’m nothing if not lazy, after all. But she thinks we can take out two birds with one stone.’

As he was speaking, Jiang Yanli had reached into the seam of her robe, and retrieved the paperman. It stirred in the palm of her hand, as though Wen Qing had been waiting for the right moment.

<I’m flattered.> Her little paper arms folded over one another. <Not that you managed to say anything with all those words.>

Nie Huaisang’s sly smile broke as he grimaced at the paperman. It returned, as he tilted his to look at her from the corner of his eye. “What would you say to bringing back Wei-xiong?”

“Yes.” The part of Jiang Yanli that crafted dark, twisted schemes for that very purpose responded before she could stop herself. She shoved it back into the dark corner of her mind where it belonged. “But the sacrifice summon doesn’t work without casualties, and I can’t —”

“Yes, that is a problem.” He agreed, at odds with his breezy tone. “Who would buy into trading their life for vengeance, and deserve to have their soul ripped apart? Or at least, that’s a problem for you. I care about getting the job done.”

I miss being able to think that pleasant-seeming people were just pleasant people. Qin Su grumbled, and Jiang Yanli wholeheartedly agreed.

Yet Nie Huaisang wasn’t volunteering himself, she noticed. “It wouldn’t be difficult to convince someone I was Qin Su, possessed by my own spirit. But unlike you, it is the destruction of the soul that concerns me.”

<Would you still be opposed if the sacrifice did deserve it?> Wen Qing interjected.

Jiang Yanli’s first instinct was to say that no one deserved that. It was even more unlikely that someone so monstrous would agree. But when Wen Qing explained her suggestion, Jiang Yanli found herself agreeing.

“You don’t want to bring your brother back?” She asked, later, after Wen Qing’s paperman lost its animation. It was not a serious offer. Though Jiang Yanli had not disliked Nie Mingjue nearly so much as most sect leaders, she could not help but think that if he had not been quite so intransigent, A-Xian might not have been driven to the lengths he had.

She would not trade her chance to bring back A-Xian for Nie Mingjue. She simply needed to know if Nie Huaisang was going to be a problem.

You can be kind of scary sometimes, Yanli-jie. Qin Su was likely reconsidering her stance on Jiang Yanli’s general level of bloodthirstiness.

Nie Huaisang’s eyes went wide before he sputtered into a fit of laughter more bitter than a mouthful of lotus pits. Wiping a tear from his eye, he said, “Are you kidding? Dage would murder me. Which would be worth it, except he’d immediately undo all my hard work and send himself into another qi deviation. Resurrect Dage, really.”

He tsked, and laughed again, but this time there was something wistful in it.

Longing, perhaps, for what he could not have.

“And you? You don’t want to bring back your husband?” He asked, startling her.

“Zixuan? I hadn’t even thought about it.” She had loved her husband, and lost him far too soon. But she was, she felt, capable of grieving him, where the place A-Xian belonged was a gaping hollow inside her. She’d practically raised A-Xian, watched him grow and change into a brilliant young man. A world of difference lay between him and the man she’d admired from afar, and only gotten to love for a single year.

There was, she thought, another key difference between them. A-Xian was like her. He’d never move on peacefully to his next life, while those he cared for were unhappy or in danger. Zixuan, on the other hand… “If I know my husband, Zixuan will have already been reincarnated.”

His soul probably belonged to a child not much younger than A-Ling now. One with doting parents and many siblings, for whom the worst thing in the world was sitting inside to memorize characters.

Or so she hoped. “But A-Xian… he’s still waiting. I’m certain of it.”

“Waiting? Not a restless ghost, or in…?”

“A-Xian’s anger never lasts- lasted. He’s always burned bright and hot. If he took revenge, that was it.” The longest grudge he’d ever held was against Zixuan. It had also been his pettiest. There had been Wen Chao, of course, but something had stopped A-Xian from getting to him faster, though he’d never told her what. Otherwise, A-Xian’s anger was like a firework: a spark, an explosion, and gone, as insubstantial as smoke. “And if the kings of hell are as quick to condemn as mortals, then what’s the use of the justice he loved so much?”

Justice that had been stolen from him in every turn in life. Jiang Yanli could only hope that this new life she might — just might — be able to offer him would grant her A-Xian everything he’d been denied in the first.

Nodding, Nie Huaisang produced a jug of wine from his sleeve, and raised it towards her in toast. “To brothers with too many morals and bringing yours back.”

Qin Su spent the night practicing slipping in and out of a paperman, wobbling around on tiny paper legs and indulging in her newfound ability to move and speak, of her own volition. She lasted longer each time.

Each shift kept Jiang Yanli alert and awake, the feeling of being alone in her mind now as strange as sharing it had been at the start. Jiang Yanli didn’t mind. She wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway.

Even as she hoped to see her brother again, she felt the empty space in her bed more viscerally than ever. A-Xuan would not have had advice she could use. Likely, he wouldn’t have approved. Certainly, he wouldn’t have understood. But he wouldn’t judge her, or try to stop her. He would hold her close, stroke her hair, and give her a place where it was safe to feel.

Jiang Yanli hadn’t known that was something she was missing, before him. It was something she would likely never have again.

The paperman Wen Qing had left lying inert on the table surged back to life. <Oh, you’re still awake. Or did I wake you?>

“Couldn’t sleep.” She whispered, propping herself up on one elbow, softly enough that Qin Su — busy scaling the shelving near the door — could not hear.

<I couldn’t either.> Wen Qing admitted. <You gave me a lot to think about.>

“Questions of morality?” Questions like, who was Jiang Yanli to condemn a soul to be torn apart by trickery? Who was she, if she purposefully eliminated a living person’s soul, a line only Xue Chonghai had admitted to crossing? What, then, separated her from Jin Guangyao?

Qin Su had caught her wondering this, as her thoughts cycled through those questions on one of her returns, and scoffed. The difference is you’re not murdering innocents for power.

But Qin Su’s anger was scalding and freshly kindled; her own was a low, steady flame. She had the clarity to stare down the path she’d chosen, and ask where she’d draw the line, if not here.

Jiang Yanli couldn’t help but wonder how much blood she’d have on her hands when the dust had settled. Whether anyone else would be able to see it.

Wondering wasn’t enough to stop her.

But Wen Qing surprised her.

<You gave me hope. I haven’t had hope in a very long time.> She took a flying leap into the air, the little paper figure drifting unevenly down from its peak to land on the bedframe, near Jiang Yanli’s head. <I’m sorry if I’ve caused you inner turmoil.>

She giggled a little into her hand, surprising herself. “Turmoil. That’s a good word for it. But I think — I’m glad you did.”

The silence that settled between them felt warm and comfortable, like she’d just put on a broth to simmer. Like if she waited for it to be ready, maybe she wouldn’t be so lost after all.

After some time, Wen Qing asked, <Would you mind telling me about A-Yuan?>

What she knew wasn’t much. But to Jiang Yanli’s surprise, she drifted off in the telling.

[sourwolf-sterek32]

Sucker for Pain ( Daryl Dixon x Reader)

Summary: Everyone has demons, some louder than others and some, like yourself, who use blades to silence them. Before the world died, you were an assassin and thought you were better off alone, until you kept running into the same blue eyed archer who changed your mind.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Assassin!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of self harm and physical and sexual assault and rape in a few chapters

Chapter 5- 

The first thing you were aware of when you started to wake up was the thumping pain between your thighs as slowly opened your eyes.

What the hell happened? Where were you? You tried to think back to the last thing you remembered, but everything was just fuzzy. Your entire body ached as you stared up at the tall ceiling of what you assumed was a warehouse and then it hit you; Terminus.

You quickly tried to sit up, but you barely moved a muscle before you realised that your hands were tied together. You looked down realising that your jacket had been removed, leaving you in a freshly ripped tank top as your eyes wandered further down your body spotting your wrists tied together in front of you, exposing all your cuts and scars across your inner arm, but that's not what caught your attention. What caught your attention were your jeans that had been undone and were currently pulled down to your knees and you knew exactly what happened while you unconscious.

You could feel your body starting to shake, your blood turning cold as you thought about what Gareth and his men must have done. No, they couldn't have done that... you kill rapists, you kill them, they don't do that to you. It couldn't have happened, it couldn't have happened to you... you repeated in your head, but by the thumping pain between your thighs, your hands tied and jeans pulled down, you knew it was true.

Tears began to rise in your eyes, but you quickly shook your head. You didn't have time to feel sorry for yourself, you had to get out of here. You could deal with everything once you were out of this hell hole. You had to find Daryl and the others and get the hell out of here, that was all that mattered right now.

You continued to glance around the warehouse looking over at your jacket lying on the ground a few metres away, along with your sniper and handgun, clearly just tossed to the side. But, before you had a chance to even try move yourself towards your weapons what sounded like an electric drill started up and you quickly turned your head to the right spotting two men standing by a bench cutting up what looked to be a human body with some kind of electric saw. What the fuck?

Maybe you were seeing things, someone did hit you over the back of the head, maybe you were just dreaming and imagining this whole thing. This was just crazy. You dropped your head back down on the ground as you stared up at the roof. Your entire body ached, all you wanted to do was go back to sleep and ignore everything that was happening,

"Fuck." You sighed to yourself, closing your eyes for a few seconds to try and get the roof to stop spinning. You were pretty sure that you had a concussion on top of everything else and even if your hands weren't tied together you don't think you'd be able to get up, you just felt so weak. Just the thought of opening your eyes again and facing everything seemed to hard and you knew your body was on the edge of slipping into unconsciousness and the screwed up thing was that you didn't even care.

You weren't sure if you had passed out again or not because you woke up to the sound of peoples muffled groans and screams coming from across the other side of the warehouse. You wanted to open your eyes to see what was going on, you needed to open your eyes in case you were in danger, but your eyelids just felt so heavy you couldn't physically force yourself to open them.

Someone's muffled screamed got louder, it was like they were trying to shout at you through some kind of mouth gag or something, but that was impossible, the only other people in the warehouse were the freaks cutting up the body.

"Oh, is that your girl? My guys had a lot of fun with her. Don't worry, she's not dead, just unconscious." Gareth's voice said from somewhere just behind you as you tried and failed to get your eyes to open. You tried to listen to Gareth's footsteps as he walked past your body, but sudden muffled screams and the sound of a metal baseball bat hitting something filled the air followed by water gushing, making you even more confused. Seriously, what was going on?

"We saw you go into the woods with a bag and come out without it. Had to pull my spotters back before we could go look for it. What was in it? You hid it, right? In case things went bad? Smart. Still, we'll find it. But, it's too dangerous to go out there right now. What was in it? I'm curious. And it was a big bag." Gareth continued to say and you quickly realised that he was either talking to Daryl, Rick, Michonne or Carl since he mentioned the bag that Rick had buried. Shit, they had been watching you, there goes your plan B in case things turned bad, which they very truly have.

"Let me take you out there. I'll show you." Rick's voice replied and somehow you managed to get your eyes open as you stared up at the ceiling of the warehouse, trying to get your eyes to focus.

"Not gonna happen." Gareth stated as you slowly turned your head in the direction of the voices, but everything was blurry as you stared at what looked to be some kind of metal tub with people on their knees behind it. What the hell?

"There's guns in it. Ak-47, .44 Magnum, automatic weapons, night-scope, there's a compound bow and a machete with a red handle. That's what I'm gonna use to kill you." Rick responded and you blinked a few times as your vision began to clear and you quickly realised that it wasn't just a metal tub with people sitting behind it. It was a god damn blood bath. If the four dead people hanging over one side of it with blood pouring from their necks were any indication. What the hell was this place?

Your eyes scanned over the people by the tub and you instantly recognising the Asian man from the time you saved him and Daryl cornered by walkers in an alley, how'd he get here?

Daryl was on his knees beside him, his mouth gagged with some kind of rag and his crystal blue eyes locked with yours once he realised that you were awake. You didn't want Daryl to see you like this, you didn't want anyone to see you like this, but it was kinda too late for that.

You glanced away from Daryl spotting Rick sitting beside him with the same type of gag that hug loosely around his neck while Gareth sat crouched down in front of him on the other side of the tub as they spoke. You didn't recognise the darker skinned man sitting beside Rick, but you assumed he might be part of their old group since the Asian man was now here.

"Thanks." Gareth chuckled, pulling the gag back over Ricks mouth as he stood up and took a few steps back as you watched the men, only just spotting two of Gareth's men standing behind your friends wearing blood covered aprons, one holding a machete, the other holding a baseball bat.

Slowly you reached down to your jeans and began to pull them up. Trying to not make any sudden movements so Gareth or his men don't realise you were awake, because if you wanted to try move for your guns that were a few metres away than you needed your pants up so they didn't get in the way.

"You have two hours to get them on the driers. I'm gonna go back to public face. Now's the time we can get messy, but we need to dial it all in by sundown." Gareth instructed, looking over at his men who both nodded in agreement and you watched in panic as the man with the baseball bat walked over to the Asian man and began to line him up. Shit.

You glanced over at your jacket, sniper and handgun a few metres away from as you debated whether or not you could get your body to move over there quick enough to get your gun before Gareth or one of his men saw you, but with you aching body you doubted you could.

Wait. Your pocket pistol. You always kept a backup handgun in your boot, it was only a small CM9 handgun, but it was still a gun. How the hell could you forget about that? Maybe you really did hit your head too hard.

With a quick glance towards Gareth to make sure he wasn't looking your way, you sat yourself up which turned out to be a lot more difficult than you thought as your body ached in protest. But, you ignored it as you reached for your right boot where your concealed gun was kept when sudden gunshots filled the air and you didn't even have time to process the gunshots before a loud explosion erupted from somewhere outside.

The entire warehouse shook, sending you falling back down as gunfire began to erupt from outside. What the hell is going on out there? You glanced over at the others noticing Rick and Daryl had also been knocked to the ground from the explosion.

"Stay here until I know what's happening!" Gareth yelled, snapping your attention away from your friends to find Gareth running straight past you and out the warehouse, completely oblivious to the fact that you were awake.

You turned your head back towards Daryl and the others noticing Gareth's other two men still standing behind them, the machete and baseball bat still in their hands as they stared at each other in confusion, clearly not knowing what to do.

You didn't waste any time as you reached into your right boot and pulled out your small pistol, killing the two men instantly causing Rick and Daryl to both quickly sit up in panic, but immediately relaxed when they saw you sitting across the room with a gun.

Rick began to manoeuvre his way towards the man with a machete so he could cut off the zip-ties that bound his wrists and ankles and you did the same as you slowly moved yourself towards your jacket and weapons on the ground. You quickly used your knife to cut the ties around your wrist and shakily grabbed your jacket and pulled it on to covered up your ripped tank top and the scars and cuts over your left arm.

Carefully you tried to stand yourself up on shaky legs, despite your body screaming at you in protest and you nearly fell over until a strong pair of hands grabbed your shoulders, steadying you.

"Hey, ya okay? Y/N?" Daryl's voice questioned in panic and you looked up to find the man now standing in front of you, his hands still on your shoulders as he stared at you in worry, but you quickly shook your head and took a step back.

"I'm fine, just don't touch me right now." You replied, hating how weak your voice sounded as you stared at the ground, unable to meet his eyes and Daryl immediately dropped his hands from your shoulders. He stared at your for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to do before he grabbed your sniper from the ground and held it towards you and you took with a small nod, grateful that he wasn't going to ask any questions or push the topic.

"They got problems, we got a chance. Y/N, are you alright?" Rick's voice suddenly asked and you turned around to find him and the two other men standing up and grabbing large butcher knives from the benches behind them.

Rick's eyes glanced over at Daryl beside you before he focused on you, a hint of sympathy flashing across his expression and you knew that they all had figured out what must have happened to you, but you just nodded.

"It sounded like a bomb and you're that sniper that saved me and Daryl." The Asian man spoke up and despite the situation he gave you a friendly smile and introduced himself. "I'm Glenn and this is Bob, but who the hell are these people?" Glenn questioned looking away from you as he pointed towards the two men you just shot who were lying on the ground behind them.

"They ain't people." Daryl muttered angrily as the two of you made your over to the others and you noticed Bob grabbing a knife, about to stab the dead men in the head, but you quickly spoke up.

"Don't. Let them turn." You instructed, glaring at the two bodies and Rick nodded in agreement before the group of you began to walk towards the door to the left to try find a way out of the warehouse.

Rick lead the way, followed by you and Daryl while Glenn and Bob trailed behind. You kept your sniper in your hands in front of you, ready for any of Gareth's men to walk around the corner as you quietly but quickly made your way through the door, but you all came to a halt when you saw what was in the room.

It was like a cool room type area with meat hanging off hooks from the ceiling, but instead of it being cows or pigs it was humans. Gareth and his people had butchered humans, bled them out and cut up the bodies and strung them up like animals, like food. This is what they were going to do to Daryl and the others, probably what they were going to do to you once they finished having fun with you. Fucking animals.

"I knew something wasn't right about this place." You muttered, your grip tightening around the sniper as you glanced around the room, spotting various buckets and benches covered in different types of body parts and you tried to focus your breathing through your mouth and not your nose because it fucking stunk.

"Cross any of these people, you kill them. Don't hesitate. They won't." Rick instructed as the others stopped to upgrade their weapons with whatever took their fancy from the benches in the room, but you stuck with your sniper and knife that was strapped to your belt. That was all you needed.

You followed behind Rick while the others grabbed some weapons, but stopped when you reached a door that lead outside as you both stared through the glass in the middle of the door spotting a bunch of walkers trying to get inside a shipping container. But, it wasn't the same container that Michonne and Carl were in, so that was a relief.

"If we run, we can get by them. They're distracted." Rick explained as the others quickly joined the two of you by the door and you all nodded in agreement as Rick opened the door. You quickly threw your sniper over your shoulder and pulled out your knife as you began to take down the walkers around the shipping container with the others.

Suddenly, Daryl grabbed your arm and pulled you back behind the container as a group of walkers walked around the corner, but his hand gripped your arm tightly around your cuts causing you to wince in pain and Daryl let go in confusion.

"Are ya bit?" He questioned in panic and you quickly shook your head, but he didn't believe you as he grabbed your arm and pulled up your sleeve exposing all your scars and fresh cuts along the inside of your left arm.

Daryl stood there in shock as he stared the cuts before you yanked your arm away and hastily pulled your sleeve back down.

"The restraints cut my arms when I was trying to get out of them before, it's no big deal." You lied, looking away from Daryl to find Rick staring at you with the same expression as Daryl, but to your relief Glenn and Bob began to shout something about Gareth's men shooting at the walkers which seemed to snap Rick and Daryl's attention away from you.

"Wait here." Rick quickly instructed as he ran over to one of the abandon cars by the edge of the building as the others shouted his name, but you knew he was waiting for Gareth's men to walk around the corner before he took them out.

Daryl quickly moved after Rick, not letting his brother do it alone, taking out a walker along the way that nearly snuck up on Rick. You watched as Rick nodded his thanks as Daryl crouched down beside him before the group of Terminus men came around the corner, all of them firing their guns at the walkers.

They were all focused on shooting at the walkers and you knew Rick wanted some guns instead of mallee weapons, so you quickly sheathed your knife and pulled out your sniper from your shoulder and lined up the first Terminus man and pulled the trigger. Within a few seconds they all laid on the ground dead, none of them even getting a chance to fire off a shot at you as you pulled the leaver back and reloaded your sniper while Daryl and Rick quickly grabbed the guns.

"Holy shit, good shooting." Glenn commented from behind you as Rick and Daryl quickly ran back towards you guys by the shipping container and Rick nodded his thanks to you before handing Glenn and Bob a couple guns.

"We got to double back to where A is and free the others." Rick instructed and none of you argued with him as you took off running, taking out any walkers that got too close as you ran in what you hoped was the right direction to where the 'A' shipping container was.

It didn't take long before you spotted the container, but of course that was where most of the walkers were. You had swapped your sniper for your knife a few minutes ago as you fought back to back with Daryl, Glenn and Bob while Rick opened the door to the shipping container.

"Come on! Fight to the fence!" Rick yelled from behind you and spared a quick glance towards him spotting a whole group of people running the container. You instantly recognised Carl and Michonne and one of the other women seemed kinda familiar, but the rest were all new to you.

"Let's go!" Glenn shouted and you took that as your signal to start running to the fence. You glanced over at Daryl making sure he was okay before the whole group of you began to run towards the fence, taking out the walkers blocking your way.

You watched as the woman in a hat and short pony tails grabbed a dirty blanket from the ground and threw it over the barbed wire fence for the group to climb over. But, you quickly turned away and continued taking out the walkers while the others began to climb over to safety.

Suddenly, gunfire began to erupt from one of the roofs and you quickly swapped back to your sniper, spotting Gareth and a few of his men trying to fire at your group. You raised your sniper and began to line up his men one after the other as you pulled the trigger.

You could sense that walkers were starting to get close now that you were standing still, but you didn't look away from your sniper scope as you continued to take down Gareth's men who were trying and failing to shoot towards your group who were trying to climb the fence. They didn't get to live after what they did and what they had tried to do. You had to kill them.

"Y/N!" Daryl's voice shouted in the distance, but you didn't turn around or respond to him as you focused on taking out his men until there were only a few left.

You moved your sights onto Gareth, hovering the crosshairs over his right eye about the squeeze the trigger when suddenly someone grabbed your shoulder pulling you backwards causing your shot to miss the target completely.

Throwing your sniper over your shoulder you whirled around with your hand raised in a fist about to punch whoever had grabbed you until you came face to face with Daryl and you quickly lowered your hand. Neither of you said anything as you ran back towards the fence where only a ginger haired man was waiting, the others already over the fence.

The ginger haired man was glaring at you and you figured he was probably annoyed with the fact that you were busy shooting instead of climbing the fence like the others, but he should get the fuck over it. You were trying to kill the bastards that took the group hostage and you were covering them while the others were getting to safety.

"Ya need help?" Daryl asked once the two of you reached the fence, taking out a couple walkers along the way and you shook your head, although it was pretty high fence and you knew you'd struggle, but you didn't want anyone touching you right, not after what just happened.

It took a little longer than you'd like, your body still aching with every movement, but you managed to pull your body up over the fence, spotting the others all standing on the other side. Rick began to reach his hand up towards you to help you down, but you shook your head and jumped down yourself trying to ignore the aching in your body.

Rick looked like he was about to ask if you were okay before his eyes snapped towards someone behind you and for a second you thought that might be Daryl, but then a rough hand gripped your upper arm and just by the touch alone, you knew it wasn't Daryl.

The hand tightened around your arm and the person with more strength than you thought suddenly turned you around and you came face to face with the ginger haired man.

He was still glaring at you, anger and frustration evident through his features as you sized the man up. He definitely had a lot more muscle and out weighted you by a long shot as you looked the man up and down, taking in his dark tank top that was tucked into his almost military style pants and you could instantly tell that this man was a fighter.

"The hell were you doing?! Standing still in the middle of a God damn walker zone and shooting at people on the roof. In case you didn't realise, by not helping and climbing over the fence straight away, you put everyone here in danger especially me since I had to wait for Daryl to get you." The ginger haired man snapped, his hand still gripping your upper arm tightly as you glanced down at his hand before meeting his eyes.

"Abraham." Daryl's voice muttered, taking a step towards the two of you and you could see him out the corner of your eye holding his hand out towards the big man and you weren't sure if this Abraham guy was from their group at the prison or not, but he was really starting to get on your nerves.

"If you want to keep that hand, I suggest you let me go." You warned, standing up straighter as you stared at the man, not going to take no as answer and he must have realised that as his hand moved from your arm. "If you touch me again, it'll be the last thing you ever do." You threatened, keeping your voice stern as you glared at the man before you began to walk off.

"Where are you going?" Rick called out and you glanced over your shoulder to find the whole group watching you in confusion.

"Do you want your bag of guns or not? It's this way." You informed nodding in the direction you were walking and you heard a few of the group mumble something about 'what guns' but Rick and Daryl had already begun to walk after you and the rest of the group quickly followed.

-

NEXT CHAPTER

-

A/N- Link in bio for Masterlist. I will reblog with my Daryl Dixon Tag List, if you want to be added to the list just comment below. 

Well that just happened.... i warned you guys this is my darkest fic and on a side note, i really love Abraham but in this fic he’s kinda a dick, but i promise it will all be worth it and the next chapter has a sweet moment between Y/N and Daryl, so stay tuned. 

Anyway, until next time stay safe everyone and have a great day xx

[neuronary]

so @valentines-virgil left these tags on my five headcanons post 

and my brain demanded i write this. hope you enjoy. might write about the fear of heights thing later, who knows.

---

Allison and Five were the only people in the house and Allison was crying and this was a problem.

If there had been someone else - anyone else, but preferably Klaus, Vanya, or Luther - in the house with him, Allison crying would not be an issue. He would just blink over to them and let them deal with it. They were good at that stuff.

But Klaus was at his knitting group, and Luther was helping Diego prepare for his next boxing match, and Vanya had orchestra rehearsal, and Ben was invisible. So that left him, standing very awkwardly outside Allison’s door, listening to her sniffle and trying to work up the courage to knock.

The apocalypse shouldn’t be less scary than this.

After listening to another shaky breath, Five gave up on knocking - he never usually knocked - and blinked through the door.

“You’re crying.”

Judging by the way Allison jumped out of her skin when he spoke, that had been the wrong way to go about things, but life moved on. Allison wiped her eyes and nodded.

“Sorry,” she said, quieter than Five had ever heard her. It set him on edge.

“You told Vanya not to apologise for being upset two days ago,” Five pointed out. “And three days before that, and a week before that, and--”

He was cut off by Allison’s giggle. “Fair point.”

They lapsed back into silence until Allison started sniffling again and Five managed to pick his way around the clothes on her floor to stand next to her. She motioned for him to sit down and he did.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, trying to think of what could be upsetting her, or what would make her feel better. “Help tidying your room? Ice cream?”

Allison snorted. “Thanks,” she said. “Good to know I look like a mess.”

Five frowned. Allison was messy, usually, so maybe she wasn’t upset about the state of her room. “Why are you crying, then?”

Allison laughed again. “It’s nothing, really, it’s stupid, I just got a phone call this morning.”

Patrick. Five mentally reviewed some of his earlier plans to assassinate his ex-brother-in-law without implicating his sister or traumatising his niece too much. “I’ll kill him,” he offered. It was the best he could do; he was terrible at comforting people.

“No, it wasn’t-- Patrick’s been better, recently.” Allison wiped at her eyes again. “I’ve just... finding work has been tough, and my agent just called to tell me that I didn’t get a part on Broadway and I thought the audition went really well and I was hoping... I don’t know what I was hoping, I just thought it’d be nice if I was in New York more.”

Five blinked. This was way outside of his area of expertise. “Well,” he said, and then didn’t follow it up with anything.

“Don’t worry about it,” Allison said, smiling sadly. “This is just what I get for basing my entire career on rumours instead of actual talent.”

That definitely didn’t make sense. “But you’re the best actress,” Five told her. “You’re incredible at it. You always have been.”

“I’m a good liar, Five.” Allison looked away, slumping a bit. “It’s not the same thing.”

“Hold on,” said Five, an idea zapping across his mind.

He was back to the room in forty-three seconds, his battered old copy of ‘Extra Ordinary’ held tight to his chest. He sat back down and started rifling through the pages.

“Did you rumour Johnathan McClaren to write a good review in December of 2018?”

“What?”

“Did you?”

Allison frowned, smiling. “No...?”

“How about Abby Dee, January of 2019?”

“No, Five, what are you--”

He cut her off, flipping a page over. “Matthew Johnson, Ricky Smith, Lola something, and a couple more whose names got burnt off. Did you rumour any of them?”

Allison shook her head slowly.

Five nodded. “Well, all of them gave ‘Into the Hex 2′ five stars and raved about your performance, so clearly your career is built on talent. Do you need some water?”

“I... where did you get these?” Allison was staring at the makeshift bookmarks Five had pinned together from old newspaper excerpts and magazines.

“I found them,” he explained, “in the apocalypse. Whenever I found any undamaged newspapers or magazines, I’d look to see if you were mentioned anywhere.”

Allison started tearing up again and Five tried not to panic.

“You-- You really looked for me?”

He hadn’t wanted to forget her. He’d managed to scavenge a few old press photos from their academy days, but none without masks. By the time he’d found out Allison had a daughter, he’d forgotten what colour Klaus and Luther’s eyes were. By the time he figured out that she’d divorced her husband, he could barely remember what their faces looked like without the domino masks.

Five swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Well, I was hoping to find more clues as to what had happened, but... you were there a lot.”

Allison pulled him into a hug and it was... a lot, but he could tell she needed it. He patted her back awkwardly.

“Don’t tell Klaus,” she said, voice clearer, “but you’re my new favourite brother.”

“I’m glad you’ve seen reason,” he said.

Downstairs, the door opened. Five blinked downstairs to see Klaus and Vanya walking in together. Perfect.

“Allison’s crying,” he told them. “Go deal with it.”

(He gave in to three hugs and an awkward shoulder pat from Diego later that evening, and shoved away several more.)

[the-sympathetic-villain]

You Belong With Me - Chapter 6

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: Much to his surprise, after being released from prison for a crime he didn’t commit, Logan has been appointed as a the prince’s new advisor.  

Word Count: 4290

Chapter Warnings: None (Let me know if I missed anything!)

 Logan looked up as they crossed the courtyard to the bathhouse. A massive stone archway hung above the entrance as Virgil finally slowed his pace in front of him. Logan blinked, slowly inhaling the warm, humid air drifting out of the bathhouse.  He tensed as Virgil slowed, shifting his bag on his shoulder nervously as Virgil turned to face him.

Virgil noticed his discomfort and smiled reassuringly at him. “Hey, listen Logan, these are private rooms and I'm going to respect your privacy and stay outside but there are multiple points of entry to each room so I need you to keep talking to me while you’re in there.” Virgil paused. “I know it's a bit awkward and it's unlikely anything will happen, but I don't want to take any risks. Okay?”

Logan shrugged, looking at the ground. “Of all the things that have happened, I think I can handle this.”

Virgil nodded. “Okay, stay here a moment. I'm going to do a check of the area. Keep talking to me though.” Virgil ducked into the room, checking its nooks and crannies for any indication of someone's presence.

“L, keep talking.” Virgil called out to him when Logan remained silent.

“L?” Logan looked up from the floor in confusion.

“I've never been big on using people’s proper names. I hope you don't mind.”

“Oh, uh, no. I actually like it.” Logan said uncertainly, slightly taken aback with Virgil’s familiarity.

“Good. I think it might stick then.”

Logan smiled but his sense of ease only lasted a moment. “Vee…why did Roman pick you to guard me?”

Virgil came back out of the bathhouse, distracted. “I think we’re clear. Just call out if you need anything.”

Logan looked at him, waiting for an answer.

His question seemed to finally register in Virgil’s mind. “Oh, umm, Roman doesn't know if he can trust all of his members of the guard after what happened. Roman asked me because we’ve known each other since we we’re kids. He knows he can trust me.”

“That's not really what I meant.” Logan said offhandedly as he walked past Virgil.

“What did you mean then?” Virgil called out over his shoulder as he leaned up against the stone archway, glancing down the hallways.

“I meant to inquire about your qualifications for aiding in my protection.”

Virgil leaned his head up, looking at the ceiling of the bath house. “Oh, well…this isn't a typical job for me.”

“What is a typical job for you then?”

“That's…a good question.”

“That’s not an answer."

Virgil could hear doubt in Logan’s voice.  He paused, thinking.  “What I do is…complicated. I am whatever Roman needs me to be.”

Silence hung in the air for a moment before Logan spoke again.  “That doesn’t answer my question, Vee.”

“I know, L. Listen, if Roman needs information, I get it for him. If he needs someone tracked down, I find them for him. If he needs correspondence with some of the city’s shadier residents, I set it up for him.” Virgil snorted, rolling his eyes. “If his new advisor needs a bodyguard, apparently I do that too. Whatever he needs, I make it happen.”

Virgil heard Logan mumble quietly. He turned closer to the door frame. “What was that, L?”

He heard Logan clear his throat. “Do you do this for the whole royal family?”

Virgil hesitated. The flat tone in Logan’s voice gave him pause. He softened his tone, hoping to ease Logan’s mind. “No, I serve Roman and only Roman.”

Logan was quiet.

“You don’t have to worry about me being assigned elsewhere, L.”

“L?” Virgil’s muscles tensed as his inquiry was met with silence. He turned to the door, calling out louder.  “Logan?!”

“I'm fine, Vee.”

At Logan’s soft response, Virgil sighed, relaxing back against the wall. He kicked idly at the floor beneath him. “Don't scare me like that.”

“Sorry.”

Virgil winced, hearing the dejected tone in Logan's voice. “It’s all good, L. Don’t worry about it. Just keep talking for me.”

“How did you end up working for Roman?”

Virgil relaxed, leaning back against the door frame, sliding down the wall until he squatted on the back of his ankles, elbows on his knees. “I was a thief before Roman pulled me off the streets. We were both teenagers and I was dumb enough to pickpocket him.

“You pickpocketed a prince?”

“I didn’t know he was the prince. I thought he was just another spoiled noble.” Virgil laughed quietly at Logan’s attempt to conceal his surprise. “And I would have gotten away with it but one of his guards decided to harass me.”

“What happened?” Logan called back. Virgil glanced over his shoulder as he heard the movement of water.

“One of his guards searched me just for the hell of it, found the things I’d nicked from him and turned me over to Roman. The guard nearly threw me in prison but Roman was impressed. He offered to give me the opportunity to train with a master, in return for working for him.”

“That was…fortunate.”

“The break of a lifetime, for sure. If I’d stayed on the streets, I’d probably be dead.”

“Do you ever wish you could leave?” Logan asked, so quietly that Virgil barely heard him.

Virgil looked over his shoulder towards Logan’s voice. “Logan, I can leave. Roman doesn’t own me. I stay because I choose to.

Logan was quiet.

“L, he's not going to keep you here against your will.” Virgil slid further down the door frame, sitting on the ground.

Logan’s tone dropped. “I know.”

“If you did, you wouldn't have asked.” Virgil leaned his head back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling.

“I’m trying to establish a baseline for who he is.” Logan was quiet for a moment. “I want to trust him, Vee.”

“It's okay. You have to figure out who you’re dealing with. I'm not going to fault you for that.”

“What type of training did you do?”

“My master trained me in several martial arts disciplines. They taught me how to use shadows to my advantage and the basics of being undetectable. I also became proficient in skills like lock-picking, escape artistry and other ways of…evading obstacles.”

There was a long pause before Logan spoke again. “Do you kill people?”

Virgil took a deep breath. “I'm not an assassin. I don’t kill unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“But you have?”

“A few times, it's been necessary. I had no other choice, L. It was me or them.” Virgil sighed. He hadn't talked about this with anyone, not even Roman. Virgil shook his head, looking down at his feet. Roman was right. Logan had a sort of charm he couldn't ignore.

“I'm sorry, Vee.” Logan looked down at Virgil sympathetically as he walked out to the hall, swinging his bag over his shoulder and running his hand through his damp hair.

“It is what it is.” Virgil shrugged his shoulder, standing up off the wall. “Anyways, that's our first obstacle down. I think we should head back to your chambers. Your breakfast will be delivered soon.”

Logan nodded.

Virgil gestured for Logan to lead the way down the corridor and they began their trek back to Logan's chambers. Virgil took a slightly more direct route this time. He was confident they weren’t being followed, at least for now. They were quiet as they walked at a brisk pace upward through the tower.

-

“It looks like we made it just in time.”

Logan looked up to see a boy rolling a cart up to the door just as they approached his quarters. He yawned, quickly thanking the delivery boy. Logan gave the boy a few copper coins before watching Virgil roll the cart inside.

“They don't expect you to do that, you know.” Virgil commented offhandedly.

“Do what?” Logan stifled another yawn.

“Give them money. It's their job to bring you your food.”

Logan shrugged. “I've got more than I need working for Roman. If it helps the kid, I don't mind.”

"Well, it probably makes their morning so it's probably worth it then."

Logan could just make out Virgil smiling at him in his periphery as he lifted the plate covers off the food on the carts. The bowls were filled to the brim with roasted vegetables and fresh fruit. The chef had even sent a small loaf of freshly made bread. Logan swallowed. He knew he should be hungry but unlike yesterday, he didn't have much of an appetite. The sight of the food made his stomach turn.

“I take it you don’t eat meat.” Virgil said, browsing the cart.

“Oh, um, yeah.” Logan paused. “I‘ve never really been able to stomach the texture of meat and the whole concept of… processing it disturbs me.”

“Honestly, same. It's pretty gross.” Virgil grabbed an apple, and lazily draped himself over the side of the couch.

“I wouldn’t have assumed it would affect you.” He leaned against the mantel of the fireplace, picking at his food.

“Why? Because I'm a merciless killer?” Virgil raised an eyebrow at him.

Logan nearly choked on his food. “No, that’s not—"

Virgil flashed him a playful grin. “It's all good, L. It’s a fair assumption. Most people in my field aren't the empathetic types.”

“No, I suppose not.” Logan cleared his throat. “Do you know many other people…in your field?”

“I have to. It's a matter of survival. You have to know who the major players in the city or you risk crossing them.” Virgil continued to eat his apple, strolling over to the cart to pick away at the other food. “The city’s underground isn't forgiving of mistakes.”

“I guess I'd never taken the time to consider it.” Logan said absentmindedly.

“You'll learn soon enough.” Virgil didn't look up as he continued picking through the food on the cart.

“What do you mean?” Logan looked up at him, tilting his head in confusion.

“Well, if you’re going to be advising Roman or whatever you’re doing, you’re going to have to know what's going on in the city.” Virgil said, looking up from the food cart. “I mean, you’ll have me to guide you for now, but you hardly seem the type to be satisfied with my expertise.”

“Practically, it is best for me to garner my information from multiple sources.” He sat his plate on a table, slowly sitting down onto the couch. He stared off into the distance, deep in thought.

“Yeah, I figured.” He cut off a few slices of the fresh loaf of bread, continuing to pick at his other food. He paused, noticing that Logan had stopped eating. “Not hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Jeez. You don't eat. You don’t sleep. What's wrong with you?”

Logan flinched.

Virgil looked over at him guiltily.  “Sorry, L. I didn’t mean it like that.   It’s just... you're not going to last long the way you’re going.”

“I know. I appreciate your concern. I promise I ate well yesterday.” Logan sighed. “Sleep is getting to be a problem though. If I don't sleep soon, I'm going lose my mind.”

“The nightmares really get to you, huh?” Virgil sat down on the couch opposite of Logan.

Logan couldn’t meet Virgil's gaze. He could feel shame burning on his cheeks.

“Hey, uh, listen.” Virgil moved around the couch to sit next to him. He leaned in close. “I've heard stories about the dungeons. I don't know how much of it’s true and I don't know what you’ve been through the last few weeks or in your life but…it's going to be okay. You’re safe here.”

“I-I don't know.” Logan struggled to keep his voice from shaking.

“Listen Logan, you don't have to believe it yet, but I need you to hear it.” Virgil wrapped his arm around Logan’s shoulder, pulling him closer.

“You can't guarantee anything, Vee. You and Roman. Even if your intentions are good, you’re both human beings capable of making mistakes.” Logan pulled away. He moved his legs up onto the couch, pulling them close to his chest and leaning back into the cushions.

“You’re right, L. I can't guarantee you'll never be hurt again, but I'll guarantee you’re not alone anymore.” Virgil pulled his legs onto the couch and crossed them, looking over at Logan.

Logan smiled tiredly at him.

Virgil watched as Logan's eyes started to droop. “Maybe you should try to get some rest.”

“If I sleep now, I won't be able to sleep tonight.” Logan evaded.

“That’s a lie. You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.” Virgil pushed.

“I don't know."

“You look like a soft wind could blow you over.”

Logan was quiet, looking down at the ground.

“Look at me, Logan.”

Logan looked up at him.

“I have had a dozen opportunities to hurt you by now. You’re alone with me and you’re clearly weak. You’re pale as a sheet. There’s not much you could do, awake or not, if I decided to try something.”

“Great.” Logan said bitterly.

“My point is that I haven't done anything, despite clearly having the opportunity. Come on, logically, you know I'm not here to hurt you, L. If I was, something would have happened by now.”

Logan sighed and nodded.

“Go sleep. I'll wake you in a few hours.”

Logan started to stand. “If you insist.”

“I do.” Virgil smiled at him.

“Thanks.” Logan said softly as he wandered out of the room.

Virgil watched Logan until he closed the door before turning back around on the couch to face the door. He leaned back into the corner and pulled out a small dagger to pass the time, twirling it around his fingers.

-

The sun was high in the sky as Virgil laid on couch, picking at the dirt underneath his fingernails with his knife. Logan had been asleep longer than he’d expected but he was grateful. Logan clearly needed the rest. Virgil glanced to Logan's door, contemplating their morning. Roman had been right about Logan. There was something about this guy. Virgil took a deep breath. Perhaps, he simply couldn’t ignore someone who was so clearly in pain.

A small noise jolted him from his thoughts. The lock was moving in the door. Virgil jumped up from the couch silently, holding his dagger close to his body. He was across the room in an instant, pressing his body against the wall behind the door.

The door eased open quietly. Virgil tensed ready to surprise the intruder. He leaned forward, peering around the door. He quickly relaxed.

“Roman!” Virgil hissed.

Roman jumped, spinning around. “Virgil! What are you doing here?”

Virgil looked at him, dumbfounded. “Having a picnic.” Virgil whispered sarcastically. “What do you think I'm doing here?”

“Right, sorry. You just surprised me." The prince glanced around the room. "Where’s Logan?”

Virgil hushed him. “He's asleep.”

“It's the middle of the day.” Roman said, confused.

Virgil frowned. “I know. I don't think he's been sleeping.”

“Oh,” Roman face fell. His eyes filled with concern. “Is he okay?”

“No…or maybe.” Virgil paused, unsure of his words. “He's getting better, I think.”

“What does that mean, Virge?”

“I don't know, princey. I can't tell what’s going on in his head. Sometimes, he seems okay. Other times, he just looks really sad.” Virgil hesitated. “Or scared.”

Roman sighed. “Did he say anything about what happened?”

“No offense, princey, but even if he said anything, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Roman looked over at him with a shocked expression.

“I agreed to protect him, not to spy on him. If Logan wants you to know something, he can tell you himself.” Virgil said sternly.

Roman reluctantly gave in. “Fine, Virge. You're right to not violate his trust. I'm just worried. He doesn’t trust me enough to talk to me.”

Virgil shrugged, turning to jump over the back of the couch, landing softly on the cushions. “He's afraid of the power you have over him.”

“I know. I don't blame him.” Roman stepped around the couch, sitting next to Virgil. “But it's difficult to know he's afraid of me.”

Virgil smiled sympathetically at him. “Give it time, princey. You got me to trust you. It doesn’t get much more difficult than that.”

“I know we'll get there.” He paused. “I only wish we had more time. Something dangerous is headed our way and we need to get out in front of it. My gut's telling me that Logan is going to be important to us making it through this.”

“We'll be ready, princey.”

“We will be, Virge.” Roman sighed, pondering for a moment, before turning back to Virgil. “Listen, take off. Get some rest. I'll take over here for a while.”

Virgil nodded, standing up off the couch. “I promised to wake him soon, so you'll have to do that.” Virgil hesitated. “And make sure he knows I'm coming back, princey.”

Roman raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the cushions. “You really took to him, huh?”

Virgil shrugged. “l couldn’t help it. I know what it’s like to feel out of place around here.”

Roman smirked at him. “I know. That’s part of why I asked you.”

“Yeah, figures." Virgil smiled tiredly over at him.

“Go get rest, Virgil. You’ve earned it. Be back by nightfall. I'll handle things here until then.”

Virgil hesitated, staring at Logan’s door over the prince’s shoulder.

“I'll make sure he knows you’re coming back.” Roman reassured him.

“Okay, princey.” Virgil finally replied tiredly, turning his attention back to Roman. “I’ll be back tonight.”

-

Logan woke with a start, jolting upright in his bed. His muscles tensed as his tired mind registered the sound of voices outside of his door.  He listened intently, sliding silently out from underneath his blankets. Creeping across the room, he kneeled down, holding his ear to the door. The tension in his body eased as he recognized Roman and Virgil’s voices. Unable to make out their word, Logan looked at the door, swallowing back a pang of guilt as he slowly cracked the door so he could hear their conversation.

“Is he okay?” Roman's quiet voice drifted in through the cracked door.

A faint smile formed on Logan’s face as he listened to Virgil try to make sense of his behavior. He was clearly having a tough time pinning down Logan's emotional state but what he had picked up on was surprisingly accurate.

“Did he say anything about what happened?”

A chill swept over Logan realization washed over him that Virgil reported to Roman. Logan silently berated himself for not guarding his words more closely with him. Anxiety settled in the pit of his stomach as he leaned in to listen closer.

“No offense, princey, but even if he said anything to me, I wouldn’t tell you. I agreed to protect him, not to spy on him. If Logan wants you to know something, he can tell you himself.”

Logan sucked in a breath of air, immediately feeling guilty for doubting Virgil. Aside from their initial encounter, Virgil had given him no reason to distrust him. Still, relief washed over him. He wasn't ready to share everything with the prince just yet.

To Logan’s surprise, the prince accepted that Virgil wasn’t going to share rather easily. He leaned closer to the door, listening to Roman's words through the crack. The prince sounded almost disappointed that Logan didn't trust him. and, despite his obvious curiosity, the prince still didn't push Virgil for more information.

“He's afraid of the power you have over him.”

 Accurate, Logan thought. He turned his face down, tracing the bruises on his wrists absently. The power Roman had over him at this point terrified him, though he clearly craved Logan’s trust.

He listened for a while longer but his interest had began to fade. Logan couldn’t help but feel that the rest of the conversation was hyperbole.  Roman couldn’t possibly believe he had any ability to influence the kingdom's future. He was merely a bystander, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.  

“You really took to him, huh?”  

“I couldn’t help it. I know what it’s like to feel out of place around here.”  

Logan felt heaviness in Virgil’s words. Even with what he’d learned earlier, he felt like he was missing a part of the story. He leaned his head back against the door frame and listened as Roman sent Virgil off to rest. He sensed Virgil felt guilty for leaving. Logan frowned. Virgil couldn't be here watching over him all the time any more than Roman could. He needed rest and time to recover. Eventually, Virgil seemed to give in to the prince's insistence. Logan smiled. He was glad Virgil had decided to take care of himself and, admittedly, pleasantly surprised that Virgil seemed to genuinely care for his wellbeing.         

After Virgil had departed, Logan let a few minutes of silence pass before he decided to come out of his room. He cracked open the door slowly and silently. The prince sat on the chair crouched over a piece of parchment he was reading.

“Good afternoon, my prince.” Logan said quietly. He walked across the room and leaned on the mantel of the fireplace, facing the prince.  

“Logan, you’re awake. Good to see you." Roman glanced up and down at him. "And again, please call me Roman. Truly, I can’t stand the formalities.”  

“Ok, sir-"         

Roman raised an eyebrow.

“As you wish, Roman. Where's Virgil?” He asked, not wanting to let on that he’s eavesdropped on their conversation. Fortunately, Roman seemed oblivious to Logan's nervousness.

“I sent him to rest. He's going to need the energy for when he comes back tonight.” Roman paused. “He was reluctant to leave you, but I insisted." 

Logan smiled.

“How are you today?” Roman asked.

“I'm fine.” Logan said but his smile faltered, and he sighed as he noticed Roman's look of disbelief. “I'm better than I was. My face is still sore, but the bruises are fading.”

“Logan,” Roman began cautiously. “I’m going need to know how you got those bruises.”

“Oh, umm-uhh… I-I mean…” Logan stuttered.

Roman held up his hands, backtracking. “I'm sorry, Logan. Relax. I don't need to know right this moment. I don't want to push you because I know you’ve been through a lot, but eventually, I need to know.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Logan seemed relieved.

“I wish I didn't have to rush you. I'd much rather you have the time to process your hardships before having to re-live them.” Roman paused. “But, unfortunately, this is a matter of the kingdom's security and I can't wait indefinitely.” 

“I know, Roman.” Logan looked away, crossing his arms.

Roman hesitated, feeling Logan closing himself off. “I'm sorry, Logan. Truly, I am. For now, just consider it. That’s all I’m asking of you, okay?”  

Roman watched as Logan snuck a glance up at him, gauging the truthfulness of his statement. “Okay. I’ll consider it.”  

They sat in silence for a few minutes.  

“I am glad you're doing better, Logan.” Roman said, breaking the silence again. “Please, forgive my persistence. I didn't mean to disturb you.”  

“It's okay.” Logan sighed, turning back to him. "I know I need to recount my experiences. I know that it's important information for you to have. Just...every time I think about it though, my throat constricts and I feel like there is a physical blockage keeping me from saying anything."

“That's entirely normal, Logan. I've seen soldiers unable to recount their most traumatic battles even years later.”

“But I didn't go to war. I just…” Logan’s voice trailed off.

“Don't compare one experience to another. You've been through a lot and events like this affect everyone differently."

“I know.” Logan paused, trying to keep his voice from quivering. “I just feel weak, knowing I'm struggling to cope with recent events.”

“Having feelings isn't weakness, Logan.”  

Logan shrugged. Crossing his arms, he moved over to the window. Warm sunlight lit his face as he looked down on the kingdom below.

“Let's table that thought for now, okay?” Roman said, changing the subject. “I have a job for you.” 

Logan continued to stare out the window, watching the people move about the courtyard below. “What do you require of me?”         

“I need you to do some research for me.”  

Logan looked up from the window at him, his curiosity piqued. “On what subject?”        

“I am meeting secretly with a small council tomorrow, regarding the recent attempt on my life. I need information on the poison that was used and, more specifically, where it came from. I need a starting point for identifying the person responsible for the attempted assassination.”  

“Do you have the dart in your possession?”  

Roman nodded. “It was recovered when I was discovered unconscious in the corridor.”  

Logan looked at him seriously. “Roman, I can complete this task for you. I'm certain of it, but I’m not confident I can identify the poison in such a short window of time. I am knowledgeable about local plants because of my apprenticeship but I’m hardly an expert in botany.”       

Roman was quiet for a moment. “I have to admit. I am surprised. I thought you had already identified the poison.”  

“No. I haven’t.”         

“How—” Roman paused, looking over at Logan in confusion. “Never mind. Perhaps, now is not the time for that conversation.” 

Logan watched as Roman pondered his new dilemma. Silence filled the room for an uncomfortable amount of time. Logan shifted his feet uncomfortably. He froze as Roman’s gaze finally snapped up to him.  

“I think I have a solution for you. Let's take a walk, Logan.” He moved from the couch to the door, gesturing for Logan to follow him.

You Belong With Me Taglist: @cas-is-a-hunter @insert-cool-blogname @ironwoman359 @i-know-im-smart @imbadatnames8d @dwbh888

[randbwrite]

La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 5 Part 1

Words: 1561

TW: Death, violence, blood CW: vampires, assassins

R:

His blush at her calling him “luv” was quite satisfying. Smirk widened. He was quite cute like that, hmmm, strange feeling there. Maybe this is why Arthur had fun making the ladies blush? 

Her ears were good enough to be able to hear them while she dispatched their enemies. The banter between these two suggested they were rather good friends. Good, that would make the transition easier. Certainly, it would be some time before Cal was able to make friends with the residents at the mansion, given what he had done to her. Arthur would likely be the least forgiving of them all, since he had treated her wounds personally.

<<Yes, I am one. Figured out yet I haven’t exactly aged since you got here?>>

Ah, now there was the answer to a question she had. She had suspected as much but left such things to the proper time.  Good to know she was escorting two vampires rather than a human and newly sired vampire. Next question would be who his sire was, but that would have to wait. 

They made their way through the citadel, she dispatching anyone that stood in their way. Even in the council room, she had worked with surgical speed and accuracy. Now, they stood outside what remained of the assassin’s league. She turned around and listened intently to both of them.

<<You will have my unwavering loyalty for the rest of my life, this I swear.>>

“I thank thee for such an expression of devotion, brave sir knight. Remember though, I am no queen, my domain is but a small part of the world. And to answer your question, I can tell by the way you speak. I remember the courts of old.”

<<So dramatic! But yeah, what he said. Obviously, I don’t have an issue not fighting on the side of the angels, but if there were any such thing, I’d say you come the closest. Avenging angel, maybe.>>

Laughter, this time short and to the point, more like a scoff but without the derision. A somber tone and expression took hold. “You will learn soon enough that I am no angel, I have never deserved such admiration. An angel of death more than an avenging angel, darkness and despair is all that has followed me for hundreds of years. There is a reason that I am called to the battlefield, and it’s not to make the place art worthy. But, if you wish to think of me as such, I cannot stop you.” Gaze met his, eyes wavering, telling tales of old, death, and destruction, of unimaginable loss, all in an instance. 

She uncased her wings, slowly, her eyes glowing for a moment. “Time to go home.” Wings stretched and flapped a few times before she took off, the two of them flying right behind her via her abilities. 

Over the countryside they flew, the small lives of those below unable to be seen but able to be felt as their tiny figures moved about. Over rivers, forests, and ravines they flew still. A good time later a castle came into view, situated on a cliff, its defenses rivaled by few. 

Landing gently in front of two large doors, she glanced back at them both before knocking. Door creaked open to reveal a man dressed as a butler. 

“Ah, M. La Comtesse, glad to see you’ve finally arrived. I have dinner set for our newest gue-” He stopped, there were two men with her, not one. “M. la Comtesse? Two?” A slightly exasperated sigh. “A little warning next time would be nice. Now the dinner service will have to be adjusted. You are also late. Did something happen?”

A chuckle at his sass, something that she had found endearing over the years. “A few unexpected things happened, including bringing our second guest with me. He was in a predicament that I could not ignore.”

“Ah, very good. M. la Comtesse. I shall have a second room arranged immediately. You know, this reminds me of when you brought the Van Gogh brothers here. Are they brothers?”

“Not to my knowledge, though they banter like they are. Suppose you’ll have to ask them when you’re not pretending they aren’t right behind me. Can we move on? The smaller gentleman is in need of rouge.”

“Of course, M. la Comtesse.” It was then that Sebastian figured out that it was Cal who had done the unthinkable to his mistress. Though he hid his displeasure well from her in tone, the look he gave Cal was as cold and furious as a blizzard. “Might I have their names?”

“Oh, sorry… the larger gentleman is named Derrick, the smaller is called Rapscallion, though he also seems to go by Cal.” She stepped past Sebastian to be met by the prying eyes of the castle residents. “Good evening everyone.” She motioned at their new guests, “These two, Derrick and Cal, will be living here from now on. No harm should come to either of them, or you’ll be answering to me personally. Now, can we have a normal dinner, please? It’s been a long day.”

A few more steps into the castle and she faltered. A grunt and she began to fall, only to be caught by Arthur. “Now, luv, what have I said about overexerting yourself?”

“Mmmmm, I don’t need a lecture now….” Her wings went back into her back and she began to breathe heavily. 

Quietly, he spoke to her, “You know, dove, you didn’t need to bring him back here, let alone two. Seems like it may not have been worth the effort.” Arthur shot both men a look, his eyes showing of his vampiric rage. All that left him as he picked her up and carried her off. 

“Apologies gentlemen, introductions of your fellow residents shall have to wait till dinner itself.” Sebastian chimed in, “My name is Sebastian. I am the head of staff here and am the butler that serves M. la Comtesse personally. Now, let’s get you two cleaned up so you are presentable. Can’t have you dressed like that for dinner with everyone.”

He ushered them both to where they could bathe and get their choice of finer clothing. 

……

“What happened out there, luv?” Arthur inquired, his eyes looking over her exhausted figure. 

“I’m not used to having to carry so much weight with my powers for so long. Seems I need to train more. Not used to flying while using my powers either. The battlefield usually doesn’t call for use of my wings. I had been planning on just carrying back one, not two.”

“And why are there two? Who do we need to watch out for…. Who…. who did those horrible things to you?”

“Ask Jean, I’d rather not tell everyone so as to give them a chance to make their own impressions.”

“Ever the mystery with you, luv. What am I ever to do with you, hmm?”

She scoffed, “Suppose you’ll stay with me, as you always have. I’ll be fine Arthur, I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Mmmm, the blood on your clothes tell enough of the tale.”

Eyebrows quirked, “Damn, guess I wasn’t as focused as I usually am. Apologies to Sebastian and the staff.”

“Get some rest and change, maybe take a bath. Till dinner then, luv.” With that, Arthur left her alone, all the while hatching a plan to figure out which of the two had tried to kill their beloved Comtesse. 

…...

Having scrubbed all the blood off her, a bath had felt refreshing, especially for her sore wing muscles. Sheesh, that was a long flight. Ah, yes, dinner. Time to look nice and make pleasantries. This was going to be interesting. Never before had she brought anyone to the mansion with as much issue with the other residents. Even Theo, resident tsundere, or Mozart, resident grump had been this much of an issue. She only hoped her warning not to harm them would stick. Didn’t mean they had to accept them, or be nice for that matter. Oy vey this was a mess. 

…...

Heels clicked on the hard floor as she entered the dining room. Starry dress flowed with each movement, it looking like it was the sky just as the sun had decided to finally sleep. Everyone seated now rose to greet her. Sebastian pushed in the chair with her as she sat down, ever the lady of elegance. A soft smile graced her lips as she raised a glass of rouge, “Welcome, Derrick and Cal. Introductions are in order, so I shall go around the table.”

Taking a sip from the glass, she set it down. “Derrick, to your left going ‘round the table we have, William Shakespeare, Vincent Van Gogh, Theo Van Gogh, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Napoleon Bonapart, Isaac Newton, Leonardo da Vinci, Dazai, Jean de Arc, and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart is to your right Cal. And yes, these are the actual men of their namesakes. I specialize in bringing back people from history to help with current predicaments. Gentlemen, please enjoy dinner. I can now also take any of your questions, as promised before we left that accursed place.”

Glares ‘round the table were at both Cal and Derrick, but no one said anything to them, they all starting to chatter among themselves.

[crystalwillow]

Without You, Part One

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Casey Valentine (F!MC)

Word Count: 3.2K

Taglist: @deansmyapplepie @schnitzelbutterfingers @rookie-ramsey @vibrantlyjaz @brycelahelalover @eleanorbloom

⚠️ Warning: Includes mention of death, pain and heavy sorrow. If you are easily upset by death, please stop reading here and I will be back soon with a happier fiction. If you really wanted to read it, and are now sad you won’t be able to, I send my deepest apologies and hugs to you. Thank you for your support, it means the world to me and keeps me motivated to keep going and creating new content. ⚠️

POV: Casey Valentine & Narrative.

==================

--- Casey Valentine ---

It had been years since I last knew what it was like to feel genuinely happy. To laugh and for it to not feel forced just so I was keeping up appearances, and people were convinced I was doing fine. With a genuine laugh came a genuine smile, and with a genuine smile? The deepest of connection with the person behind the reason for those two things. Truth is, I’d spent the last decade of my life never knowing where I would be, never knowing if I was ever going to settle in one place for the rest of my life. So I never let myself go on adventures, never lived life outside of studying at med school, and never gave myself the chance to fall in love. Because with love comes responsibility. And with that responsibility comes attachments, and those attachments... lead to you maybe, settling down and not moving unless it’s a mutual decision. How frequently I moved wasn’t even my own decision, so that’s why I couldn’t let myself fall for anyone. Because it would only ever end in broken hearts. Then when I graduated med school I made one of the biggest decisions in my life. I would move to Boston and complete my intern year and residency at one of the best hospitals in the world. Home to one of the greatest diagnosticians of all time. Dr. Ethan Ramsey. Author of Diagnostic Principals and owner of my heart when I travelled to my fantasy world. There was quite an age gap between us, ten years to be exact. But I knew when I was crushing on someone, and nobody around my age caught my eye the way he did. When I started my intern year, before I even got to my orientation, I was pulled out of the crowd by an attending. If I was just passing by and happened to catch a glimpse of him working, I would have recognized him almost immediately. But I was full of nerves that had just been heightened from being pointed at and also at the situation unfolding in front of us in the waiting room. That I didn’t notice who it was until after the fact. I went to change my scrubs for clean ones after successfully saving my first patient and was in a daze the whole time. He’d spoken to me and touched my hand. Ethan Ramsey, had touch my hand. Little did the two of us know at the time that the interaction we just had would be the start of a very long road to us finding our true happiness and being able to love each other publicly.

As I went through my intern year, he always seemingly found a way to be nearby to steal glances at me. Nobody else would see it but I could swear sometimes he would even... smile. He always checked up on me via email when I was suspended and awaiting my trial for killing a patient, even though that was never my intention. I wanted her to be able to live the rest of her life happily and the survival rate of the drug we, okay I stole, was higher than the chances of her passing away. Death still found its way to Mrs. Martinez. I regretted what I done every day. I still do. If it wasn’t for me being so ambitious and eager to give her a chance to get that picture she always wanted, she would still be wondering the halls of Edenbrook, gracing the staff with that lovely smile and wisdom of hers. Everyone loved her. Even Ethan. The only time of day where he didn’t care if people saw him smile was when he was taking a walk with her around the halls, listening to her chatter away about whatever she had been watching on TV that day or the previous night. One day after my roommates had all left for work, I was in my room at my desk still studying. Well reading at least. I was reading his book, it brought me some kind of solitude. A feeling that things would be okay, no matter the outcome of the ethics hearing. It was peaceful and I had a fresh mug of coffee next to me, when there was a knock on the door. I was stunned when I opened the door to find him standing there, a smile on his face and paper bag from a local coffee shop in his hand.

“I brought your favourite.”

He told me happily, almost like a smug kid that just proved their sibling wrong on what a parent had said, by asking the parent to clarify their statement. I stepped to the side and let him in, and we sat at the coffee table on the couch. “Ironically. I just made a fresh pot of coffee. Could I get you some?” I asked as I smiled back at him. “I would... Love some. Thank you.” He said, smiling wider. Casey went to her room, retrieving her mug and the pot of coffee before going to the kitchen and grabbing him a mug and sugar, as well as a couple of those little milk pods you get. He made his coffee and we sat together chatting about anything to do with my life before I was at Edenbrook. What kind of student I was and where I graduated in my class. Of course when I told him I had graduated top of my class, he grinned proudly. In fact he grinned proudly looking through all of my old school books and my sketches of him. How that book got in there I will never know. But at least I know knew he appreciated my not so professional art work. The day of the hearing snuck up on us quickly after that day. As I stood in the room, I looked around for his face and found him at the back on the room near the door, and he gave me a subtle nod and smile of support. The hearing to forever, and my legs felt like jello the longer I stood. You wouldn’t be able to tell it from how schooled and stern my expression was, but inside, I was a nervous wreck and had convinced myself I’d be losing my medical career that day. But when the verdict came, it was like time stopped, I had won my case! My eyes scanned the room back to where he stood by the door, a smile on his face as he gave me a thumbs up. I wanted nothing more than to run across the room and jump into his arms from the pure joy and relief I felt from the outcome. Yet I knew it would raise suspicions. As the hall emptied, Ethan came out of the shadows and approached me, pulling me into the biggest and warmest hug of my life. This wasn’t just a hug from a mentor who was happy for me, this was a hug that you’d receive from a friend or someone who really loved you. As he pulled back and looked at me, about to congratulate me, Declan Nash, came up to us smugly. Making a smug remark that I just wasn’t in the mood for. So I guess like mentor, like mentee, I turned and slugged him round the jaw.

“Nice form.” Ethan complimented

“Thanks.” I grinned as we stepped over Declan, walking out, making our way to Donahue’s for some celebratory drinks. Over my first year Ethan and I had become pretty close, closer than a mentor and mentee should have been. When he quit and I was suspended, we thought we might have a chance at pursuing us. What we were and what we could be. But with both of us returning to work tomorrow... We knew that would be difficult as we sat sharing drinks and laughs before returning to my shared apartment to get much closer. The next day when we returned to work, he stood in the atrium next to Naveen and Harper Emery. I smiled brightly and gave him a wave which he returned with a solemn nod, to which I of course playfully rolled my eyes at. As I looked back I could have sworn he mocked me. Could this have been the start of some harmless flirting between us at work? Something that lead to a relationship? I guess we will never know how that would have went because I felt my heart shatter and sink as Naveen announced me as winner of the competition to win a place on the diagnostics team. The team Ethan was now the head of. So he’d be my... my boss. I looked at him from the corner of my eye and saw his face fall when Naveen made his announcement. My second year at the hospital was going to be tough, I could tell. We both could tell. During the time between me being and intern and becoming a resident, Ethan left to go to the Amazon with the W.H.O, to fight a mysterious outbreak of a virus. At first I missed him a lot and my heart ached every time I passed his office, knowing he wasn’t in there. Yet it somehow became easier each day. Until one night when I was at Donahue’s with my friends, we were just celebrating becoming residents when he strolled into the beer garden looking even more handsome than I remembered. Gone were the beige chino pants he paired with a white/blue checkered shirt and grey jumper, and in was a white Henley, green leather jacket, black jeans all paired with a pair of... Converse? I didn’t know where this sudden sense of style had come from, but I was pretty sure he was trying to make an impression on me. He stopped by our table on his way inside and looked at me.

“Rookie.” He nodded as he acknowledged me

“Too late.” I said with a grin and shake of my head. “As of 60 seconds ago I’m officially a resident.”

“Well I guess that means you won’t be making anymore mistakes then, Dr. Valentine.” He grinned

I shook my head with a smile. “It’s good to have you back Dr. Ramsey.” I replied before picking up my beer and taking a long sip as he headed inside, and I continued to converse with my friends.

So far second year had brought a lot of emotional complications my way. Sometime I wanted to cry, sometimes I wanted to laugh. Sometimes, I’d be laughing and then stop and just cry for seemingly no reason. But things changed severely after a horrible assassination attempt on the senator, who got away unharmed while 4 of the hospitals best staff got caught in the crossfire. Two of whom tragically passed away. I felt awful and rotten for what happened that day. Like it was my fault. I did after all lead myself, Rafael and Bobby in there, unprepared for what could happen and trapped nurse Danny in after I stormed the room. Now it was 3 months after their deaths, 3 months after that accident. Almost Christmas and I was excited to be spending it with Ethan. We’d managed to get our time off so it overlapped in the middle and we could be together and share some Christmas spirit together. Okay, I’d be teaching him to love Christmas, not to be such a grinch. I was 2 hours into my shift, and I was missing him. I mean, we had a secret relationship for Heaven’s sake. We were still very much in that honeymoon phase and I was missing him like a lovesick puppy as I trudged around the ward completing my rounds. When I got a spare minute I ducked into a supply closet and shot him a few texts. None to which he replied to, but I just assumed he was driving to work and left it after a few messages, heading back to work convinced I’d see him soon. Be able to hear his voice and the distinctive rich, sexy undertone I’d picked up on in our moments alone. Smell his cologne and feel his warmth as we snuck a cuddle in his private office before moving on with our day. What I wasn’t prepared for however, was the commotion I’d hear as I passed through the ER that day.  

 --- Narrative ---

As she walked through the ER, Casey froze upon hearing a certain commotion.

“White Male, 38, caught in a 6 car pile-up on Atlantic Avenue. Injuries are severe.....”

But everything went to a blur and all she could hear was piercing loud white noise as she turned around to see Ethan being hurried into a bay and the curtains being drawn around him. Before she could stop herself, she screamed his name and rushed into the bay.

“Ethan! Ethan say something please!”

She grabbed his hand begging him to give some kind of sign that he was okay but got nothing.

“Dr. Valentine. I’m going to need you to leave. Dr. Ramsey is in our care, and we’re doing everything we can to-”

“No! I’m not going anywhere. He’s my boss. My mentor. My... my friend.” Those last words were a whisper on her lips as she fully took in his form on the bed, battered and bruised. Grazes and large gashes everywhere. His breathing... too shallow for Casey’s liking. She was pulled from the moment as her pager beeped. She checked it then squeezed Ethan’s hand, leaning over and whispering to him.

“I’ve got to go. But don’t you dare give up. Do you hear me Ethan Ramsey? Don not give up. Keep fighting like you always have. You’re a strong man Ethan. Hang in there. For me. For us. For Christmas. I have so many great things planned for us to do. To show you how beautiful it can all be.”

Leaning in a little closer to his ear, she lowered her voice so only he could hear.

“I love you, Ethan. I always have. Please don’t leave me.”

He must have heard her, because she felt a weak squeeze on her hand as she stood up straight again. Wiping the tears from her face and straightening her coat.

“I mean it Ethan. I need my boss and mentor, I couldn’t do any of this without you. Fight. Medicine needs you. Edenbrook needs you.”

And with that she ran off to find the person who paged her as doctors and nurses got to work on stabilizing Ethan, giving him the best possible chance of survival. The day passed on slowly as Casey tried to focus on her patients and her shift at the free clinic, but she kept making stupid little mistakes because all that kept crossing her mind was him. Ethan. All alone when he got into an accident. Probably happily coming to work, going to his personal office first and paging Casey to him. It had almost become routine for them now. They go to his office when they were both at work. Share a coffee and private moments as a couple in the safety of his office before sharing a final kiss and heading off to their respective jobs. One of the cutest thing they dong was slow dance to a shared tune in their minds. Before Ethan, Casey couldn’t slow dan very well. She only knew club dances, and dances that had gone viral on multiple social media networks. Then if they could, they would meet there again for lunch. Sometime completely skipping an actual meal and eating well.. each other instead. Sometime they were still flustered from their activities behind closed doors, so would avoid each other for the rest of the day if possible.

But now he was causing her to lose focus for an entirely different reason. His life was in the balance, nobody besides themselves and Casey’s friends knew they were dating, and she’d seen his father talking to doctors from a distance outside a room. Looks of sorrow being exchanged. She emerged from the room she had just seen a patient in when a nurse flagged her down.

“Dr. Valentine? We’ve got a you-”

“No. sorry. But get someone else to do it. My boss, mentor and best friend is somewhere in this hospital, barely breathing. I need to make sure he’s okay. I’m losing focus.” She snapped before storming out of the clinic and to find Ethan. When she found him, she looked through the window. He was in the ICU, hooked to a life support machine and a tired Alan Ramsey sat in the chair beside his son. His eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Carefully, Casey knocked on the door and entered. Alan looked at her as she turned around from closing the door and shook his head.

“They’re saying he isn’t going to make it.” He said, choking on a sob. “My boy. My precious, smart, quick-witted boy. So handsome, with so much life left to live...” Alan trailed off as Casey dragged a chair next to his. She sat and took his shaking hand in hers.

“If it will make things any easier for you. He does have a girlfriend now.”

Alan turned to her a small, but sad smile on his face. “Really? He never called to say.”

“Well... It is still sort of new.”

They both looked at Ethan for a moment and could have sworn they saw him smile, but then again it could just be a trick of the eye because they want him to be okay. They want him to live, so they’ll take all the signs they can get to know he’s okay.

Days passed with Ethan on the life support machine. Every day when Casey arrived at work, she would make a b-line for the ICU, where she would sit with Ethan and drink a bottle of water as she held his hand and talked to him. Told him the thing she had planed for them to do at Christmas. Although he was unresponsive, for her, being able to see him and talk was what got her through her days at work. At night she wouldn’t leave his side and eventually, from a decision of her own, everyone in the hospital knew of their relationship status. Ethan was going to hate her when he woke up. She chuckled as she imagined the berating he would give her for telling everyone something so personal to the both of them without his permission. Until one day, she got home and had just finished drawing a bath when her phone rang with Sienna’s contact popping up on the screen. She answered almost immediately with confusion in her tone.

“Sienna?”

“Casey... It- It’s Ethan.... He’s taken a turn for the worse. It looks like he might pass away. Tonight.” 

[darquedeath4444]

Naruto Fantasy Week - Day 7 - Fantasy Prompt of Choice

For @naruto-fantasy-week

Day 7: Fantasy Prompt of Choice

&

SasuSaku Month

Day 1: Stuck With You

Pairing: SasuSaku

She offered a hand because he intrigued her. He accepted because it was the chance he had been looking for. They’ve come a long way since then.

Warning: Mentions of death/murder, slight violence

====

A SNAP interrupts the man with the knife before he can spit an insult, a threat, or whatever it was that a man about to kill another man would say, and in the next second his entire body explodes with a gush of blood and innards.

Uchiha Sasuke clamps his mouth shut as blood splatters all over his face. The weight pinning him down vanishes.

“So, what did you do to him?”

Sasuke blinks up at the pink-haired woman staring down at him in wonder, as though she hadn’t just made a man explode.

“Nothing I can recall.” He tries to remember if he had ever seen the face of the person that had attacked him, but it is hard to make out his features in the dark. He has a few ideas though.

“You must have done something.” A hand comes up to his face and wet fingers stroke at his cheek. Sasuke slaps away the offending appendage and scowls.

“How is it that an assassin managed to sneak all the way into my bed chambers without anyone realizing?”

“Perhaps your guards are incompetent.”

Sasuke breathes out slowly. He kicks the dead body away with his foot and inspects his clothes, wondering if they were worth attempting to salvage. Even before someone had decided to shower him in blood, it had been cut up by his attacker’s wild waving of a knife. “Let me rephrase,” he says slowly. “How is it that an assassin managed to sneak past my guard and you, and make his way into my bed chambers, Sakura?”

The woman grins like they are sharing a secret. “Maybe he was just that good.”

Sasuke tries to recall if he had offended Sakura in any way, if he might have said something to upset her, but, again, he cannot come up with anything, at least nothing upsetting enough to warrant letting through someone after his life. After all, he is at least sure Sakura had been aware of the intruder’s presence from the moment he had stepped within the palace walls, even before that.

Still, she is what she is, and he cannot claim to understand how she and her kind work. Women are complicated creatures, his father had told him. However, that was before he was buried six feet under, so there is no way of asking for an explanation now.

Besides, he is sure his father, not even his prodigious brother, would have had words of advice regarding the woman who stands beside him as he sits on the throne.

====

Sasuke had been seven when his world and everything he had ever known shattered in a flurry of screams and blood. He had always been a light sleeper, and the sound of distant shouts was enough for him to shoot up in his bed. Before he could even venture out to see what the commotion was about, his brother crashed into his room and dragged him towards one of the backdoors of the castle without so much as a word.

“Brother, what’s going on?” Sasuke swerved to the right to avoid a large pillar in the way. The night sky was lit up a raging orange.

Itachi did not look back. “Later, Sasuke.”

Soon he found himself outside the palace walls, and a single horse sat waiting in the shadows. A man he recognized to be Kakashi came rushing over and Itachi handed him the burlap sack and sword he had been holding. “Take him as arranged,” he ordered.

“Brother?” Sasuke tried to cling onto his brother’s arm, but he easily slipped out of his hold. He realized the castle was on fire.

“Listen to me, Sasuke.” Itachi crouched down in front of him and ruffled his hair, hard. “You go with Kakashi, okay? You listen to him”

“How about you? What’s going on?”

Itachi stood up, hand on his own sword attached to his hip. “I love you, little brother.”

Then he was being lifted up, to sit in front of Kakashi on the horse. His brother did not look back as they rode off into the darkness.

====

Shimura Danzo, once a member of the royal council, had betrayed them. The orchestrator of the tragedy which would come to be known as the Uchiha massacre now sat in the throne he had stolen.

Sasuke was declared dead along with his family and he spent the next years of his life with Kakashi, wandering from isolated village to village in order to keep it that way, yearning for the man’s blood on his sword but with no means to achieve it.

Sasuke was sixteen when he first met Sakura. A carriage transporting trafficked people, all under Danzo’s orders, had passed by and he hadn't thought much of anything when he tracked them down, swiftly dispatched the slavers, and freed the captives.

The dozen people had profoundly thanked him before hurrying off, and his eyes had automatically wandered to the single figure who remained seated.

It was the pink hair that first caught his eye. Her bright green eyes were the second thing to snag his attention. She would be sold for a high price, he thought bitterly.

The girl stared at him until just before it became uncomfortable. "How very knightly of you."

Sasuke raised an eyebrow. Deciding he was not about to spend the night out in the middle of the woods, he turned away, ready to leave. "You should hurry home," he said. "The woods are more dangerous at night."

The girl laughed and slowly stood up. She stretched like a cat before she stalked over towards him. A hand was held out and Sasuke found himself offering his own to help her out of the carriage before his mind had even caught up to his action. The woman jumped down beside him. "Thank you."

The girl knew noble etiquette. He wondered if she was of high social status, and if so, why she had been sitting amongst villagers caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Regardless, this had nothing to do with him. He turned, about to be on his way, when a hand on his arm stopped him.

"Where are you going?"

Sasuke shook off the hand. "To the town," he said. "It'll be nightfall soon."

"You don't plan on leaving a defenceless lady like myself here out in the woods, do you?"

Sasuke spun around, scowling. "The town lies only a small distance that way," he seethed, beginning to feel annoyed. "Follow me if you must, but do keep up."

The girl smiled. She slipped a hand through his arm and pressed up against him. "So, what may I call the knight in shining armour?"

"Hn." Sasuke gave up trying to lean away. "...Sasuke. Who are you?"

The woman hummed. "Sakura."

"No surname?"

"Just Sakura."

Sasuke hummed thoughtfully. "You seem awfully well educated in lady-like mannerism for just a Sakura."

“That is rich coming from just Sasuke.” Sakura laughed. "I'm a believer of everyone being allowed their own secrets." She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. "Though I guess not all of us have secrets as big as yours."

Her words could have been taken in a lot of ways. Perhaps she was just trying to be mysterious. Still, it caught him off guard enough that he tore himself from her grasp, hand on the hilt of his sword.

The girl was still smiling, and he had no idea why she looked so dangerous.

She knew. He had no idea how, but he was sure she did.

“Now, no need to be so defensive, your highness.” She raised a hand, as though to reach for his arm again, but he pointedly turned away from her. She sighed. “Me and my big mouth,” she muttered.

“Who are you?” Sasuke demanded.

Sakura shrugged. “I told you, I’m Sakura.” She looked at the sword in his hand but did not look particularly worried. “Perhaps we should change locations, your highness.”

“Do. Not. Call me that.” Sasuke narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

Sakura shrugged. “It is as you said. The woods are dangerous at night.”

Just as she said this, Sasuke’s ears picked up on the footsteps of something heavy and metal making its way towards them. A number of them.

He swore, hand flying to his sword, body automatically moving towards the girl. The first man came flying out of the darkness in the next second, sword raised and a  battle cry on the tip of his tongue. Sasuke shoved Sakura cleanly out of the way before he slammed their attacker away with his blade. The man was sent flying, and he heavily hit a tree before going down. Several more appeared from the trees seconds later, weapons brandished.

He wondered if the other victims had made it out alive.

Sakura had recovered from his shove.  Sasuke reached out towards her, gesturing for her to come to his side, and she did so without protest. Sasuke noted with interest that she did not appear scared at all.

“I appreciate the sentiment, the rough treatment not so much,” she told him.

“Hn.”

“Should’ve left when you had the chance,” one of them sneered. They kept their distance for the moment, weapons threateningly raised.

As far as he could see, they looked like bandits, maybe friends of the slavers. Sasuke was sure he could take on them, but the girl behind him was nothing but a liability. Still, having her die here would leave a bad taste in his mouth. Not to mention he had to find out what she knew. “Sakura.”

“Mhm?”

He kept his gaze fixed on the threat in front of him, but he jerked his head into the trees. “The town is that way,” he said. “When I tell you, run as fast as you can.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

He snarled, ready to snap at her to just shut up and listen, when she stepped in front of him. “What do you think you’re doing-”

“You’re the most interesting thing I’ve come across in a long time.” Sakura smiled at him over her shoulder. “Can’t have you running off just yet.”

The man in front decided at that moment to attack. Sasuke grabbed Sakura’s shoulder, to shove her behind him, when a blinding green light momentarily stunned him. Sakura slipped out of his grasp and raised a glowing hand. Green glowing strings erupted from the girl’s fingertips and they hit the man, who instantly froze midair. Sasuke could see his muscles tensing and his body shaking, but whatever Sakura had done, was doing, kept him completely suspended above the earth.

“You heard me,” she said, and her voice cut through the sudden sheen silence that had befallen them. “He is mine.”

Sasuke did not even get the chance to tell her that, no, he did not belong to anyone. His brain momentarily disconnected from the rest of his body and he could do nothing but stare as the men ran off the moment Sakura dropped her prisoner.

“You’re a witch,” he whispered.

Sakura turned back to him and smiled. “I am.”

He had never met a witch before. “Defenseless lady,” he found himself saying.

People blessed with magic were rare. Witches often formed contracts with human masters under an oath to serve them, and those who hadn’t found someone worthy of following, or those who simply refused to bow down to anyone formed covens.

As far as he could see, Sakura was neither. After all, neither kind of witch would be wandering around to be targeted by slavers.

“What’s someone like you doing out here?”

Sakura turned towards the town he previously pointed out. “Why don’t we continue this talk elsewhere?” She grins. “Think about it, though. Have you ever wanted power?”

====

Kakashi had been very wary when Sakura had skipped into their room after him but after a while of watching her plaster herself against his arm, he appeared to come to a conclusion.

The wrong one, but a conclusion all the same. He pointedly coughed before he left, supposedly to secure them something to eat. Sasuke wanted to demand the man return to his side, but Sakura had dug her nails into his arm like she had known.

If she meant to kill him, well, there was no need for Kakashi to die as well. However, she made no further threats of violence. Her green eyes simply followed him as he stiffly went around washing up.

“So, where are you off to now, your highness?”

“Don’t call me that.” Sasuke scowled at the girl, who was now lounging around on his bed like it was hers.

“And what do you plan to do now?”

Sasuke sighed. “What is it to you?”

Sakura shrugged. She sat up. “I told you, you’re the most interesting thing I’ve met in a while.”

Dread pooled in his stomach. “Do you plan on following me around?”

Sakura grinned. “You catch on quick.”

“No.”

Sakura sighed. She hopped off the bed and followed him as he stepped into the bathroom. “Why not?”

Sasuke spun around, catching the girl by the throat with his arm. He knew how dangerous it was provoking a person who could no doubt take his head off with a mere thought, but enough was enough. “Who are you?” He asked. “Did Danzo send you?”

Sakura let him hold her down. “I am Sakura,” she told him. “And no, no one sent me.”

“Then why are you following me around?”

Sakura stared into his eyes for a moment. “Form a contract with me,” she said.

Sasuke froze. “What?”

“You heard me correct, I’m sure.” Sakura tapped his arm, and he instinctively released her. “Form a contract with me.”

What-no, “Why?”

“You’re a single boy attempting to take on an entire Kingdom and you have no idea where to start.” She leaned in towards him, the infuriating smile on her face. “I can give you the means to achieve your revenge.”

Sasuke felt his throat dry.  “And what do you get out of it?”

“I’ll be able to revel in my own skills,” came the swift reply. “Not to mention, the opportunity to pit against an entire Kingdom. I hear Danzo has an oath with a mage by the name Orochimaru. Taking him down will surely make my teacher proud. If we succeed, you’ll become King, no? Maybe I’ll request you to make me your right hand or something. Or at least give me a post where I can have a high position but don’t actually have to do anything.”

Sasuke reeled at the sudden list. He decided to address things one at a time. “Orochimaru is one of the most powerful mages ever,” he said slowly. “Do you think you can beat him?”

Orochimaru was an insane man who had been sentenced to death after attempting to kidnap Itachi years before the massacre. He had escaped from his cell a day before his execution and no one had seen him since.

Perhaps Danzo had also been behind the attack on his brother.

“Of course,” Sakura said confidently. “I wouldn’t be offering if I weren’t.” She raised an eyebrow. “And how were you planning to deal with him by yourself?”

Sasuke wasn’t ready to admit he hadn’t thought through it just yet. “You spoke of a teacher?”

Sakura huffed but seemed to have decided to let him get away with it. “Yeah. Lady Tsunade. I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”

Of course he had. Tsunade was one of the witches with a coven. She was said to be the most powerful of her kind, and there were countless numbers of rumours of the outcome of those who had tried to force the blond woman into servitude.  “You’re Tsunade’s student?”

Sakura nodded. “You could say successor,” she said proudly. “I’ll surpass her one day.”

“Lady Tsunade’s student.” He had heard of this before, he was sure. “You’re that Sakura?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying.”

“How does the oath work?”

Sakura raised an eyebrow. “You’re willing all of a sudden.”

Sasuke did not even attempt to hide it. “Tsunade’s student will be a good ally to have,” he said. “I’ll take your offer.”

“Presumptuous of you to assume it’s still up.”

Sasuke fixed the woman with a flat stare. “Is it not?”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

Sasuke rolled his eyes. “You’re annoying.”

“You’re stuck with me now,” Sakura laughed. “Get used to it, Sasuke.”

====

The sound of footsteps drags him from his reminiscence and he scowls at the grinning witch in front of him. “I miss the times you called me ‘your highness’,” he tells her bluntly.

Sakura laughs. “You didn’t like it when I did.”

The doors to his bed chambers are thrown open and Kakashi rushes in, closely followed by a few of the guards. “Sasuke! You’re okay?”

Sasuke stared down at the dead body of his attacker, suddenly feeling very tired. “Yes. Just get this body out of here and have the mess cleaned up.”

The men rush around to do as he had ordered while Kakashi approaches his side. “You sure you’re unhurt?”

Sasuke nods. “None of this is mine. Sakura decided I needed a shower before she killed him.”

Kakashi relaxes, apparently convinced. “Do you want to change rooms for the day?”

Sasuke nods a second time. “I just want to go back to sleep.”

“I’ll have another room prepared.” Kakashi leaves soon after with the men carrying the body and Sasuke makes a face at the blood still pooled at the foot of his bed. He is sure he will have to wash up before he can sleep again.

“Who do you think sent the assassin?” Sasuke shrugs. “You killed him before I could ask.” He walks over to his closet to find something clean to change into. “He was trying to kill you,” she retorts. “I, for one, think it might be Danzo.”

Honestly, Sasuke had been thinking the same. Still, having that name said in his presence while he was covered in human guts was not pleasant.

The man had fled, after all, and no one knew where he was now.

Sakura stares at him for a while, before she holds out a hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up, your highness.”

“Don’t call me-” Sasuke pauses, then sighs. “Hn.” He accepts Sakura’s hand. The woman brightens and she tugs him out of the room.

Sometimes, in the privacy of his mind, he wonders what Sakura had seen in him. After all, a witch’s oath is a lifetime of servitude.

Sakura’s finger’s glow green and Sasuke feels the mess on him instantly vanish. Magic really is convenient. “Took you long enough.”

Sakura simply rolls her eyes. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Still, he allows her to lead him out of the room and into the dimly lit corridors of the castle. Sometimes, he can hear the screams of his family as they burned alive in the tragedy years ago. He can still see the flames in the corner of his eyes and the last traces of his brother before he is swallowed up by the darkness-

“Sasuke?”

He blinks and the fire vanishes but Sakura is still there and he widens his step so that he is closer to her. “Nothing.”

Sakura simply shrugs and does not call him out on it. “You can stay in my room tonight.”

Sasuke thinks of the room Sakura had requested for after his enthronement, the one he personally thinks is not suitable for his right hand but Sakura seems to like alot. He supposes the view from the storage space located in the tallest tower of the castle is, but that really was about it.

“Kakashi will come looking for me,” he says but lets her continue on her way.

Sakura shrugs. “Not my problem.”

Sasuke scoffs at her dismissive reply.

The pinkette raises a hand, and a ball of light appears in front of her. She continues to drag him by the hand through the castle, and they soon make a turn to the left and begin heading up a set of stairs.

They step through the doorway at the top, and Sasuke realizes that this is the first time he is in Sakura’s room since she had claimed it. He can make out shelves full of books and tables piled with scrolls and parchment, as well as a faintly glowing shelf covered in cloth and he briefly imagines jars with eyeballs and fingers being stored behind the cover.

Sakura doesn’t stop there, though, and she pushes him towards a ladder located in the corner. She waves a finger and the cover at the top opens. “Go on.” Sasuke cannot remember an opening upwards ever being there but he does as told, and he finds himself up on the roof. Sakura follows him seconds later.

“The stars look so pretty at night,” she says. “From up here you feel just a little closer to them, you know?”

They certainly do.

Sakura casts a spell, and the cutting cold wind weakens to barely a breeze. “You wanted revenge, and you largely achieved it. You wanted the kingdom, and now you rein over it. Are you happy?”

Sasuke turns to her at the abrupt question. He opens his mouth because he should be satisfied. He had restored the kingdom to his family, had chased out the man who had betrayed them and had executed the other who had taken part in the massacre.

No-

“You’re satisfied,” Sakura chirps, eyes knowing. “Are you happy?”

“Are you?” Sasuke shoots back, partially because he is curious and largely because he wants to buy time.

Sakura shrugs. “I’m not unhappy,” she says. “Though I am getting rather bored.” She is still watching him, a grin on her face. “You’re the same.”

“I shouldn’t ask for more,” he replies carefully.

“But you could.” Sakura abruptly stands. The roof has no fencing, and falling will lead to certain death. Sasuke stiffens when the girl skips towards the edge and twirls around to face him.

“If you fall, will you die?” he asks curiously.

“Probably not,” she says. “Magic is pretty useful. Why? Do you care?”

Sasuke shrugs. “I thought I should at least put an efforting into looking like I care. My mother taught me to be a gentleman.” He tries not to smile.

Sakura scoffs in amusement. “She clearly didn’t do a good job of it.”

There is a moment of silence and Sasuke sighs. “What do you have in mind?” He asks.

Sakura’s expression brightens and she beams. “Thought you’d never ask.” She claps her hands together, and the green glow of magic sparks where her fingers touch.

The first time Sakura had approached him in such a manner, she had suggested taking down a dangerous man backed by one of the most powerful mages in the world. She had known what he had wanted, understood what he needed to achieve it, and had the means to give it to him. He wonders what she is thinking now. It will be insane, he is sure, and he will like it, he is also sure.

She understands him, after all, and if he does not know what he is supposed to do, ever, Sakura will hand him a new dream he can strive for. A witch is blessed with magic, and it is, in turn, their right to bless someone else with it. A life of servitude it may be, but it is still one of choice. Sakura had chosen him to give her life to, and he is sure she will give him everything she thinks he deserves.

Sakura’s smile widens, until it borderlines insane. She holds out a hand and Sasuke finds him taking it before the words had even left her mouth.

“Have you ever wanted the world?”

Naruto Fantasy Week Master List

[randominternetbosonignog785]

Mikans last Christmas.

So this story was something I was going to release on christmas but then i gave up on it, but then I diddnt, so here you go. Disclaimer its kinda gory n stuff has some naughty language and its a tad bit suggestive but its pretty pg bois.

Twas the night before christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. Though there were no stockings by the walls, nor trees or presents to brighten up the halls, but instead were cupboards and draws blocking out the doors and half flipped scattered tables to shield a man that was barely keeping himself stable.

Every piece of furniture was stripped from their place, only to be used as blockades to keep out any new face. In normal circumstances many people would think  the house was a tip but when it came to the biggest, most awful, most tragic event in human history, everyone had to get a grip.

Behind one of the half flipped tables near a cracked television, a large man wrinkled with age sat roughly on the floor with his rear resting against the desk's backside. The man had a slight beer belly, his scalp was just beginning to lose its hair and overall he just about had enough of life; what you'd expect from a fifty year old man who was down on his luck in the world, although ever since a certain wanker decided to ram a glass dagger into his right arm - ever since the world went tits up out of nowhere, his lucks been shit.

"Haaaarrgh...grrrrrr!"

The man gurgled and growled out his pain as he attempted to thrust a towel he found in one of his daughters med kits onto the red bleeding pool that flushed out of his arm. '

Apply with firm pressure? Even the fuckin manual's trying to kill me.' The squirming man thought to himself. Soon enough, he simply gave up and just decided to lie on the floor of his living room to try and get at least a wink of sleep, trying his best to ignore the niggling and nagging of the nerves in his wounded arm. It was hard finding the peace of sleep though, as the outside world he once knew had now become a hostile alien planet he might die in at any given moment and it didn't help that the air felt thicker than usual.

A few weeks.

It had only been a few weeks since he had his last pint, but now everybody started stabbing each other. It had only been a few weeks since he last relaxed watching his favorite shows on his favorite armchair, but now he was shivering on the floor, lacking the courage to go and sleep in his own bedroom. It had only been a few weeks since his worthless daughter had enrolled in some school for smart sods...

But now she was probably dead.

"Daddy?"

Almost feeling like a second after his conscience finally slipped into slumber, the rugged man abruptly snapped awake once more upon hearing a voice call out from the darkness, presumingly for him.

"Daddy? Are you still here?"

The female voice sounded so slender and savoury yet innocent and playful and it chilled the man to his bone. The man couldn't figure out how someone broke through his homemade barricade, but he couldn't feel surprised either, but it didn't matter now. He was now sharing his house with the one of many psychopaths that infested the outside world.

"Daaaddy~ where are you?"

'The sick fuck must be getting some sort of kink out of this' the man swore in his mind. Suddenly without warning, a heavy shower started to spew and spatter outside and somehow, the individual splats and taps managed to pierce through the man's ear drums, yet at this point the girl's calm yet threatening voice was able to drown out the rain itself.

That bitch was getting closer.

The man now knew he had no time left. He knew that it was do or die, he knew it was time to be a man. The voice sounded like it belonged to some kid, so why was he pissing his pants in his little time out corner? Finally, he remembered that he had one of his kitchen knives sitting around his used med kit and picked it up. He wasn't gonna let some little shit be the end of him.

"There you are daddy."

Before he could even start to gather his courage, that cold, icey siren of a voice was already singing next to him and a chilling warmth somehow caressed his ear. The man's heart skipped a beat. She was this close already.

He should have just skedaddled, the man should just have vamoosed but instead his bottom was eternally bound to the floor and all he did was instinctively turn around in complete despair. The man expected the intruder to stab his stomach or simply inject another piece of glass into his other arm, but instead, The very same second his heart refused to beat, his mouth was suddenly covered by some sort of thick tissue and then caused a sudden drowsiness to spread inside him. He felt weak. Before his very being fell into darkness he only caught a brief glimpse of his assassin's eyes, but it was enough information he had to know to effectively deduce who it was that had sealed his fate.

Out of anyone in the world that could have taken away his pointless life, it of course had to be his very own daughter. It was the same child he had neglected for so many years and if it was her out of all the other crazy fuckers ending his life; the man didn't seem to mind.

The man's muscles soon refused to twitch let alone break his fall as he plummeted, back first onto the floor. Despite the fact that his entire body was instantly shutting down though, somehow he managed to keep the dumbbells weighing upon his lids alift for a few seconds longer, just to try and see for certain if whoever stood above him really was who he thought and sure enough the thin girl that invaded his thoughts toward before the man.

Her straw-like hair was tangled and drowned in scalp snot and her usual nurse-like outfit was filthy and terribly torn. Her small speckless face though, in a way relieved the man with its familierality but at the same time horrified him with its grave difference in expression. The constant worry from her puppy-like eyes was gone, now replaced with an expression that the man couldn't possibly describe as happiness, but she was smiling; harder and more larger than she ever smiled before. 'Come to think of it', the man last thought, he had never seen his own daughter smile. He regretted that he had to think such a thought and he regretted how it came to this. He regretted everything and in his last moments of consciousness all the man could do was regret.

Why didn't he ever notice that he had such a beautiful daughter?

The saw sinks right into the leg bone~

The right arm tears off the elbow~

Apply firm pressure, don't leave the wounds open~

Don't forget to sterilise with cream~

"I did it daddy. Merry christmas."

After what seemed like an eternity, feeling as if at random, the man's eyelids finally decided to open, while at the same time his stomach felt as if it was still debating whether or not it wanted to burst open. He was on a bed and it felt impossible to get up. The man's sight invited him back to a blurry mess of a world, mangled with muddy pixels of blacks and greys that were meshed with a glowing orange that most likely represented light, and on top it all off, he was just about having the shittiest headache he ever had in his life. He wasn't dead at the very least, but dear god he might as well have been.

"Daddy, you're finally awake!"

Listening to that voice yet again...he now unmistakingly knew that it was his daughter who was talking.

"Mikan, what happened? What are you doing here?" The man's gritty growl of a voice, strained from obvious- stress finally uttered the name of his child. The pixelated colours that represented his proposed daughter were still mixed in with the blacks and greys of the room but slowly yet surely, he could already tell his sight was reorganising the world back together again.

"The outside world daddy." She purred. "It's scary out there. People who I thought were my friends started stabbing each other and some even started slicing off their hands and fingers and if it wasnt that they'd end up killing themselves. I was so scared."

She wasn't being serious. Given The context of her small speech, the man should have been able to feel some small amount of sorrow, but he felt none. All he could catch was the disguised yet painfully clear sarcasm in the girl's voice, which drained all the weight from her words.

"I came back home because I knew it would be safe."

That wasn't true, was it? She was back to kill him, just like the rest of me. It was the only thing that made sense; to get revenge on how he treated her. After thinking about it for a second though, the man probably deserved it.

"I saw you fainted on the floor when I found you daddy. So I took you to my room and took very special care of you."

Another obvious lie added to the man's paranoia and was beginning to feel iller by the second. What in God's name did mikan-

!

He couldn't move his right hand. No. He couldn't feel his right hand. In disbelief as well as desperation, the man worriedly wiggled every last limb that was still attached to his body, and where his lower left leg should have jolted...

Shit! He was drugged right? He must've been dreaming right? It was a dream. It had to be a dream! The meshy fog in the man's eyes finally felt like clearing and with all his inner strength he turned his head round to face his right arm; but all that was left was the arm and all that came out of its tip it was a small lump of thickly layered bandages, dyed in dry blood.

It was a fucked up dream. The man continued thinking. He couldn't feel the pain right? So it was just a fucked up dream, birthed from his newfound daily stresses. The pain from his old arm injury must have been giving him a horrific nightmare.

"It was hard patching you up when you were bleeding so heavily daddy." The bitch went on. "I had to give you a ton of painkillers and stuff to keep you from feeling the pain. I'm sorry. You must feel terrible right now. It's a good thing I saved you."

She was fucking insane. Painkillers? No- the only reason he couldn't feel the pain was because he was dreaming; This was just my mind's way of punishing him. There's no way he should still be alive like this.

"Good thing the ultimate nurse was here to save you daddy and don't worry I'll take care of you. I won't let you die like everyone else daddy. You're safe with me daddy."

"All you need now is me."

Fuck. Shit. fucking shit. This cant be fucking happning! How the hell did it come to this? The man couldn't curse enough. This was too fucked up to be a dream, but at the same time it was too fucked up to be real, but it just had to be fucking dreaming. Being drugged by his own daughter had to be a fucking dream. All of the last few weeks had to be a fucking dream. He had to believe it was. He had to for the sake of what small sanity he had left, and as if by reading his thoughts the monster smiled. Mavoilevent, vengeful and pure evil were the only words that spawned when the man's now mushy mind attempted to decipher such a grin. This was how he died: by the hands of his own fucking kid. Now accepting that, the man then realised that keeping himself aware of the living world was only going to make him fearful of the inevitable and so he let his heavy eyelids fall just so he could at least have the luxury of dying without knowing what hit him, but something out of place then uttered from Mikans small lips.

"So what do you want to do first?"

A question instead of a threat. Was it curiosity instead of bloodlust? Despite still hearing that wrongfully playful tone in his daughters still silk like voice, for whatever reason, the girl's strange question gave the man enough hair on his balls to open up his eyes to his assassin yet again. This time he was eye to eye with mikans face; her straw like hair gravitated towards him and her skin: crystal clear, causing what was left of her innocence to glow, while also horribly smudged with scars and bruises of the past, reminding the man of why he was here now. She was almost on top of him and only her slender arms held her above the man, acting as cemented pillars beside his neck. The man's response was delayed by the surprise of Mikan's random actions and all he could offer in exchange was a limp wimper of confusion.

Was she going to kill him or not?

Mikan then suddenly retreated from her pose and sat down at the end of the bed, avoiding squishing his leg. Well, the one that still had an end to it.

"Comon’ daddy, now we can play anything you want. Maybe you can try drawing on me, everyone always loved doing that back at school so you should give it a try!"

"What?" The man finally spat out.

"I'm sorry!" She blurted apologetically, while also completely out of place. "Maybe that's too weird for you. Do you want me to squeal like a pig again? You always loved doing that daddy. Roleplay was always your favorite."

Why? Why was she asking this? Did she develop a thing for fucking massicasisom while she was gone? He couldn't question everything enough, the man's mind just began to melt from stress and confusion. Despite the lingering silence the man couldn't help but create though, without any sign of permission Mikan settled onto the floor boards on all fours and simply started to squeal like a pig.

This was it. This was hell. This was God's heavenly punishment.

"@#$@%*!"

It was his fault she ended up like this. The man knew this now. Why did fate have to ram the fact down his throat?

"#$@%*^=!"

He fucking got it. He made his kid into a fucking physcopath. Big hoo-fuckin-ray! Just kill him for it already!

"Oink. €£#$@%*^=! oink oink."

But the universe thought death wasn't enough. Oh no, the sweet release of death was never enough to right this mans wrongs, experiencing the end of the world was never enough, being disected like a fucking frog was never enough. No.

"#$@%€¥₩! Oink."

He had to endure the desperate screams for attention. Take in the blood curdling cries for mere notice. He had to tolerate the broken girl's ungranted wishes for a better father.

"₩¥€*$%@! $$%£@!"

And he did...until he couldn't.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

She stopped squealing, but the animalistic screams still remained in the man's ears.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

"...Daddy?" She mumbled, somehow sounding shocked at his response.

"Shut...up. please." The man begged. He couldn't take it any more.

"I'm sorry Daddy." The girl apologizes again. With her voice finally sounding more mellow than sadistic. "I forgot you liked to see me do that with all of my clothes off...give me a second."

At this point The man was truly bewildered how he raised such a sad creature.

"Mikan." The man once again called out the name of his child as his eyes began to leak. "Please, enough of this."

Mikan then climbed back onto the end of the bed and locked with my eyes; hers instantly succumbed with certain grief as if she feared those words from the start.

"Daddy I thought you liked playing with me."

I stared back into her eyes with an assertive glance. One way or another, she had to learn that tearing off people’s limbs was some fucked up shit and no way to get what she wanted. It was the only way of redeeming himself, yet not even several seconds passed before she couldn't bare the silent treatment.

"Don’t ignore me Daddy. Dont do that again, please dont ignore me! please forgive me. I know I cut off your arm and your leg but I only did that so you wouldnt leave me alone again, I only did that so we could play forever. I only did that for us Daddy, because I love you! And Daddy loves me."

....

"...right?"

The man did not deserve to admit he loved her back because now he realized that He never deserved love. Not from his daughter, not from his late wife, hell, not even from his own old folks. The man now realised that he was human shit and all he ever offered was a shitty stench to smell for everyone around him and now he had intoxicated Mikan with his vulgar stink. The least he could do now was to relive some of the fumes and stop his daughter from absorbing any more of his odour. All he had to do was ignore her and be lucky for the man: that was what he did best.

!

As if satan himself sent everything he had to crush every shred of the man's newfound resolve, an intense surge of pain he had never felt before, striked at the ends of the dismembered body parts the man had almost forgotten about. He already saw his arm freshly bitten off and his leg cut clean but his mind was only now reacting to his sights and now every ounce of thought he once carried was instantly drowned out by a powerful, primordial pain.

"Ahhh...ahhhhhggghha. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggghhhhhhh!" This time it was the man's turn to squeal like a pig. The entire world's suffering encapsulated in one single moment - all the man could do was vent all the pain out for all to hear.

"Daddy, Don't scream! Please...please stop screaming like that!"

Panic flourished in the depths of the girl's mind. The painkiller's effect wore off more quickly than she had originally calculated and it was only a matter of time before her dad died of the pain caused by his dismemberment. She knew she had to drug him back to sleep immediately and wait for his wounds to heal, but somehow, the few words that slithered out of the dying man's lips, kept her sat, frozen on the bed.

"Mikan...help me please."

Those few words changed everything.

Her legs were glued. Her heart beated faster and faster but her head paused and her sense of urgency plainly disappeared. The girl's body simply couldn't be bothered to move anymore. What was this feeling?

"Mi-kan....Mi-"

Daddy was dead.

The girl felt no grief. No regret, no remorse, not a trace of despair birthed from her mistake.

She just sat there.

The nonexistent glue still sews her short legs to the mattress of the bed. Her beating heart was still rapid, but her mind acted first.

That feeling was so close to euphoric. She might have been unusual but she always imagined the death of her only family would make her sad but she felt far from that. Then she knew why.

"Daddy...-I was the last person daddy was thinking about. I was the last person on Daddys mind."

All she wanted was attention, all she wanted was agnolegenent, all she wanted was to be loved. Her patients were always weak and broken but thanks to that they depended on her, they were grateful for her and they gave her all the attention she could ever ask for. Drugging daddy and immobilizing him was just a way to make him like one of her patients and if dismembering daddy was going to make him love her forever then that was what she should do. Instead though she ended up murdering him and now she was all alone again But still, that emotion remained. The fact that she was daddy's last thought accelerated her and the feeling of knowing that made her feel so relieved and somehow Mikan couldn't barely bring herself to regret what happened. Daddy was nothing but a corpse now, she knew that she had failed at being the so called 'ultimate nurse,' she knew she'd never see, touch or talk with her father ever again and yet the final begs and pleads for his life felt like more attention than he had ever decided to give to her.

"Daddy is dead." She sobbed. Lines of tears streamed down her skin.

"But I was his last thought. Daddy yearned for me. Daddy wanted me to save him." She giggled. She didn't know why but she went on giggling until the giggles evolved into laughter and eventually the seeds of her laughter bloomed into a savage song of sorry cackles. The conflicted emotions of depression and pleasure clashed in war inside Mikan's mind and the effects of their battle gushed out of Mikan in the form of chuckles and sobs. She didn't know what she should have felt anymore. Mikan had now truly lost her mind.

!

Warmth. Embrace. Love. It was all in a single moment. Her beloved.

"Jun-ko?"

"Shush now Mikan. It's okay."

Her beloved was here and for the first time in ages, Mikan felt cleansed. Her wobbling knelt legs gave way and tumbled down sideways like skyscrapers that crashed down onto the dovay, as the warmth from Junko's breasts aroused her. A Slender yet tender arm caressed the girl's hip and softly squeezed her core; while another gently stroked off the pieces of dandruff burrowed within her straw like hair, giving Mikan an inviting fuzzy feeling inside. It was pure love. If only the world could let her stay like this forever.

"Junko..." Mikan began to vent. "Your plan didn't work. D-daddy just decided to ignore me in the end." She went on. "A-and when he died he said my name, he begged me to save him and then I-I had this strange feeling."

Junko's voice then hummed in Mikan's ear. Her boiling breath was gentle and warm and just like the sun in a snowstorm, it melted every little bit of Mikans of well earnt fatigue.

"What kind of feeling was it?"

"It was a pleasure. I-I felt good. I even felt happy, even though he's dead now..."

Before a seed of panic could begin to spread in Mikan's soul, the slight sound of Junko's voice once again quelled any flames of anxiety lit within her and the words that were delivered with that voice, finally Settled the mental storm brewing within Mikan.

"You're just like me Mikan."

That was it. She was just like her beloved. It made so much sense now and with that everything was right again. Suddenly the frail girl broke free of the others hug just to turn around and dive into the cushiony breasts of her beloved and just like that she let it all out.

"Merry Christmas my little Mikan." Junko made one last whisper.

"Now get on the floor. I wanna hear you squeal like a pig again. Dont forget to strip down nude this time you little shit."

"Of course." Mikan faintly mutterd and soon did. She diddnt like it, but if it was what her beloved wanted hee to do. If it made hee beloved happy, then she was more than willing to do anything for her.

***

Hajime.

A skinny girl, dressed in a smart yet tattered nursing uniform stood anxiously outside a holiday cabin. This girl was no ordinary girl though as in the last few hours she had mercilessly murdered two of her own classmates. The girl felt no grief, no regret, nor remorse as she felt nothing but joy when being the last reflection of someone's eye before it was darkened forever. Ibuki and Hyoko were really nice friends and they just had to be her next victims to help relieve herself, as well as in helping along Junoko's killing game but for some reason, instead of covering up her tracks, her instincts brought her here. To her neighbor's beach cabin who was coincidentally investigating her crime.

It was a dumb move in the persective of a killer to randomly show themselves up to the detective but to Mikan; it was something she had to do. As expected, the door was open and just by opening the door the girl could see the boy she was looking for completely conked out on his bed. Being the ultimate nurse she could instantly tell that hajime was sleeping on the investigation due to obvious stress but despite that she couldn't help herself and without a second thought the girl dug under the boys covers and gently squeezed the slumbering life saviour to her core. Just like last time in the hospital, her hunch was correct. Hajime was just as warm, soft and comforting as her beloved.

She held the boy tight and as the emotions that came with the memories of her last Christmas came back to haunt her, she held tighter and tighter. The raging battle inside her soul was back. The truce of those emotions was not going to last forever. The fight between love and pleasure. What was more important to her? Seeing her friends free themselves from her beloved's killing game and live out the rest of their lives together? Or was it making sure that she was the last face, the last person, the last thought everyone would have minds before they finally die and witnessing all their anguish and hatred for herself? The attention she always craved was so close in her reach but the accursed emotion of guilt she thought she had repealed long ago was getting in the way again.

She then came to an ultimatum And whispered in hajimes ear

"Hajime. I did it."

...

...

He was still asleep.

With her internal struggle more or less settled, the girl squeezed the boy one last time and slept peacefully beside her second yet brief love.

Art credit:

Picture made by 'lil Mikan.' https://www.pixiv.net/en/users/1118770/manga

[starlightsearches]

Office Romance: Ch. 13 Interrogations

General Hux and Kylo Ren have found themselves competing for the affection of a lieutenant aboard the Finalizer.

Series Warnings: Language, some violence, near-death experiences.

Masterlist

AN: Hello everyone! Here is chapter 13, as promised! There are some references to torture in this one, so be aware of that, and Kylo Ren does hurt someone while interrogating them, which is described in the story.

In your mind, three things happened at once: the sound of the blaster shot echoed in your ears, a scream pierced the air, and the impact, not from the plasma bolt, but from the general, sweeping you into his arms and pulling you out of harm's way. His hand cradled the back of your neck to protect your head, and you hit the floor, the weight of him pressing against you, shielding you from the attack. The room was silent for a moment. All you could hear was the general’s breathing, heavy against the skin of your neck.

Outside your line of sight, chaos erupted. You nudged Hux gently, and he paused before rolling off of you, his other arm still warm and firm around your waist behind your back. You managed to stand, pulling him to his feet as well, and then adjusted your dress; the neckline had slipped dangerously low from your tumble, and your cheeks went red, although the general pretended not to notice, shielding you delicately from view. The crowd was frantic, people fleeing towards the exits only to be cut off by Storm Troopers who were blocking the doors to stop anyone from escaping. It was protocol for any attempted assassinations. 

Assassination. God, was that something you’d have to worry about now? The plasma bolt hovered in the air, only a few feet away from the podium where you had been standing, a grim reminder of what could have happened if the others had not acted so quickly. You searched the room for Ren and found him standing by his seat, the strain of exertion clear in his posture, and you knew that it had taken considerable effort for him to stop the shot at such short range. He couldn’t hold on anymore, and the plasma bolt collided with the wall behind the stage, the sound of it echoed by a cry from the guests, who had now stopped their futile dash to the doors and instead turned back to see what the hell had happened.

Phasma had subdued the shooter on her own, taking his blaster, removing the helmet from his head. It wasn’t one of your Troopers; you had never seen the man before in your life. He was handsome, in a morbid way, with black hair wild and messy from the helmet, and sharp cheekbones—a face carved from stone. The look in his eyes was anything but stony: his face was full of an unfettered loathing as he looked at you from across the ballroom. “Get him out of here,” Phasma ordered, and two Troopers materialized to escort the impostor third out of the room through the now silent and waiting crowd. All eyes turned to you. 

This would be a defining moment; you had to react carefully. If you ran now, if you showed any fear, it would be the start of a reputation that would follow you throughout your career in the Order. It would find its way to the Resistance, to the HoloNet, would echo around the galaxy into the waiting ears of every potential enemy and supporter. Would you be known as nothing more than a young, silly girl in a low-cut dress who fled at the first sign of trouble? Never.

“It seems at least one person thinks that my speech has gone on too long,” you began, smoothing your skirt and hoping to look at ease, as if attempts on your life happened every day. A few people tittered nervously at your joke, and you relaxed, growing more confident in your decision, “perhaps we should move on to the dancing?”

The small transport was terribly cramped, the tension stifling as you, General Hux, Ren, and the prisoner made your way back to the Finalizer. In a fit of uncharacteristic indulgence, Hux removed his suit jacket and tie, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, hoping to make himself more comfortable, but it was without success. The party was over now, and the guests—while a little nervous—had recovered quickly, dancing and socializing as they were accustomed to at other parties where no one’s life was threatened. You had played off the ordeal incredibly, and Hux was impressed. He had watched you closely the rest of the night as you participated in the festivities with enthusiasm, charming everyone in sight, the whole room enamored with the young, new and brave lieutenant general. He, too, had tried to focus on the party, and even though it had been difficult to resist the powerful urge to run off to somewhere safe with you in tow, he had managed. 

It seemed that Pryde had been thinking the same thing. Multiple times during the evening, the general had found Pryde watching him, shooting daggers with his venomous gaze, as if it had been Hux’s fault that you had almost been shot instead of the opposite. He had ignored the looks rather well, but they left him with a creeping chill. 

And still, an even stronger feeling lingered, one that both embarrassed him and thrilled him to his core. The moment he tackled you to the ground should not be the one stuck in his mind, but it was, replaying over and over again, slower each time, more detailed. He had no way to know what it had looked like from the outside, but inside, it had felt . . . breathtaking, in the best way, like you were falling in slow motion, the fabric of your skirt wrapping its way around his legs, as if you were diving into a bed of rose petals and not to the cold and unwelcoming floor of the ballroom. He imagined it was like the cover of those romance novels he had always been fascinated by but had never been brave enough to pick up. He couldn’t forget the sensation of his hand at the back of your neck, like it was made to hold you in just this way, and the look on your face as he stared into your eyes: no trace of panic, almost serene, but holding something deeper beneath the surface, as if you were about to ask a question he had been longing to hear and he already knew that the answer would be yes.

You were sitting next to him in the transport, still dressed for the party as well. It was small, with few seats, and Ren was standing up against the wall. You looked at the prisoner with a casual curiosity and the man stared back with venom.

“Would you like something to drink?” You spoke to him, your voice light, almost friendly, and he said nothing in response; there was a gag over his mouth, but he nodded after serious thought. Standing from the couch, you grabbed a canteen from nearby and moved to sit beside the would-be killer, but Ren grabbed you by the arm as you scooted past him, stopping your approach.

“You can’t be serious.” He had taken the mask off now that you were in a private setting, and his face betrayed more than just worry under Hux’s scrutiny. It made the general nervous; how had things between the two of you changed so quickly? Was it really so dangerous to leave you alone with him? Hux would have to deal with that problem later.

“What’s he going to do, Ren?” you asked, attempting to pull away, “He’s cuffed and there’s three of us. If he tries anything, just kill him.” You moved towards the bench again, but Ren gripped your arm tighter, his growing frustration matching your own. Both of you turned to look at Hux expectantly, hoping for support. The general was at a loss for words; seeing that Ren expected Hux to side with him was much too strange.

“Let her talk to him,” He said, shrugging, and a victorious smirk splashed across your face. Ren let go of you, but he made his fury at the general apparent, huffing and glaring, leaning back against the wall with passive frustration. You ignored his whining and sat by the prisoner, gently untying the gag and taking the back of his head in your hand, lifting the canteen to his lips for him to drink. 

“What’s your name?” you asked softly, as swallowed the water. He looked at you curiously, but made no response.

“Who sent you?” You asked again, your voice so low and calm and terribly at odds with the situation at hand that Hux had to clench his jaw to keep from speaking. The prisoner nudged the canteen away from his face roughly when he finished, and stared at you, licking his lips and looking reflective. For a moment Hux thought that the man might speak, and he leaned forward to listen, watching as the man moved closer to you as if to whisper a secret, and then without warning, spat in your face.

Hux was out of his chair before you could stop him, the loud smack echoing against the durasteel walls as he slapped the prisoner with the back of his hand. The man tried to shield himself with his arms, still cuffed in front of him, and you looked to Hux, your own hand raised in warning, pressing into his abdomen to keep him at a distance. He stopped, the heat of your fingers burning into the skin of his midriff, and the unspoken communication between you sent a shiver down his spine. 

“It’s fine, General.” You spoke calmly, but there was a warning look in your eyes as you wiped the spit off of your cheek with the back of your hand. Hux couldn’t move, torn between the need to demonstrate his trust in you and the intense desperation to protect you from further harm. It seemed that you recognized his internal struggle, and your hand moved from his stomach to his side, your thumb tracing a wide half-circle across his midsection, your hand still firm, but gentler now, comforting.

“It’s fine, Armitage,” you said quietly, and the sound of his name from your lips tipped the scales for Hux. He found his seat again, while Ren’s glare burned into the side of his head.

“Tell me who you’re working for,” you tried again, addressing the prisoner.

“I’m not telling you anything,” he said, his voice a low rasp, and he stared up at the ceiling of the transport, his cheek red where Hux had hit him. 

“Fine. Have it your way. Let’s try this instead: stop me if I’m wrong,” you turned to face him, observing him carefully, and the man watched you, surprised, “You’re not Resistance, I don’t think. They have no reason to target me, especially with how many high-ranking officials were in that room. I’m sure I’m pretty low on their list.”

“There are lots of others who might want to hurt the Order though, and they’re usually willing to pay. You’re probably a bounty hunter, but not a very good one, it seems. Most guild bounty hunters are trained vigorously; training that includes instruction to refuse food and drink in the event of capture.” You paused to look at the man pointedly, and his face contorted in rage, but you continued on.

“That means that you’re probably hiring yourself out independently to people who don’t know any better. The First Order has many enemies, but most of them are committed to the guilds, despite the higher rates. I’m guessing that you were contracted by someone low on funds and desperate to make a name for themselves, a young businessman of some kind, or maybe a fledgling politician?” You stood from the bench, hands on your hips and your head cocked to one side, like you’d just puzzled out a difficult riddle instead of discerning the details of a complicated murder plot.

“So, how did I do?” You asked, and the man roared in anger, launching himself at you, tackling you to the ground and reaching for your throat. Before Hux could react, a loud bang echoed through the ship as the man flew into one of the durasteel walls, pushed from his attack by Ren, who ran to your side and helped you to your feet. The prisoner made no move from where he lay, conscious, but only just, a thin streak of blood running from the back of his head down his neck.

“I’ll assume that means that I’m correct,” you addressed the prisoner, your chest heaving from the exertion of fighting him off, “and I’d like to remind you that the next time you’re being interrogated, I won’t be in the room with you. It will be one of them-” you gestured behind you, to Hux and to Ren, “and they will not be quite so kind.”

The next morning, Ren studied you silently as you walked with him down the hallway. You were in your new officer’s uniform, wearing your greatcoat on your shoulders and sipping from a cup of coffee. You were headed to the interrogation room to meet the general, who was questioning the prisoner. Well, you, Ren, and your new shadow were headed to the interrogation room. Hux had assigned the Storm Trooper to your security detail as soon as you had disembarked from the transport the night before. He came highly recommended by you and by Phasma, one of your most promising students, and apparently he wasn’t going to leave your side, no matter how much Ren glared at him. Ren was very suspicious of the Trooper; had Hux asked him to report on your activities? Ren wouldn’t put it past the general to spy on you under the guise of protection.

You seemed fine, not at all disturbed by the events of last night, but Ren had lost sleep, terribly troubled, not by the shooter but by something that appeared to him even darker: the true nature of your relationship with Allegiant General Pryde. He had wanted to ask you more, outside the watchful eyes of General Hux, but now with the Trooper following your every move, having any time alone with you felt next to impossible. The three of you entered the observation room, hidden from view behind one-way transparisteel. It was a cramped space, and Ren shifted closer to you, glad to have an excuse if he accidentally made contact.

You watched Hux as he questioned the prisoner, and Ren watched you. You were impassive, almost bored as you observed, despite Hux’s intense technique. There was a reason the general went first in interrogations: Ren could pry information out of anybody, but it was much easier once the general left them broken. You shifted from one foot to the other, leaning against Ren gently, and he could feel the press of your arm against his through your greatcoat. He removed his helmet with one hand, feeling strangely warm in the cool air of the observation room. His mouth was dry, but he turned to you, his curiosity overcoming his hesitations.

“Could I ask you something . . . personal?” the words tumbled from his lips, and you turned to him, confusion lining your face.

“What did you want to know?” You seemed a little amused, and Ren immediately turned away. Were you laughing at him? How embarrassing. Seeing his reaction, you studied him curiously before turning to the Trooper, who sat silently against the wall.

“You’re excused, FN-2187.”

“Lieutenant General, I’m sorry, but General Hux told me-”

“I’ll speak with the general if he has any problems, but for now I’d like you to wait outside.” The Trooper shifted uncomfortably for a moment, but ultimately turned and walked out the exit.

You removed one of your leather gloves, and held your bare hand out to him, an understanding smile on your face. “Would this make it easier?” 

Ren felt himself coming apart. Your perception of him was unmatched; no one had known him like this before. He removed his glove, placing his hand in yours, amazed that something so simple could feel so right.

You faced away from him again, and closed your eyes, allowing him access to your thoughts, which he took in rabidly. What did you want to know? The same question, but the nuance was entirely altered. It was the purest form of connection—no walls to hide behind, no subtle gestures to interpret, and if Ren wasn’t careful, he knew he would give away everything.

The words still wouldn’t come, so he sent images, impressions: his view from behind you, when the general had mentioned the Prydes before the party, and then at the dinner, the feeling of your hand tugged from his after the allegiant general had looked at you so harshly. You stiffened.

“What is this about, Ren?” you stared down at the floor, shrinking yourself, tendrils of hair falling from behind your ears and into your face. Ren wanted to brush them back, but his hand was still in yours, and he wasn’t sure if you’d offer it again if he let go.

“What happened to your parents?” For a moment he didn’t realize that he had said anything at all until you pulled your hand from his, flinching away from him like you had been burned. Your heart rate spiked, adrenaline rushing through your veins in response to some unseen threat.

“What?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“I can feel it,” he said to you, hands up to show you that he wasn’t a threat, “I know that something happened to them, something you’re not telling me . . . you can trust me.” His attempts to quell your fears fell on deaf ears.

“The Prydes raised me as their own, gave me everything I could ever wish for. They were kind to me,” your hand ghosted to your throat, subconsciously, the hint of your necklace chain peeking out from behind the collar of your uniform. He could feel the sincerity in your words—but there was something else there too, looming large and oppressive in your mind. You were trying to protect him. He could feel it.

Ren chose to back down, afraid of driving you away from him, especially now that he had gotten so close. “I didn’t mean to pry,” he said, turning away, closing off his connection to your thoughts for a moment and allowing you to breathe. You straightened yourself out, replacing the glove on your right hand, symbolically shutting him out with one small gesture. Once you were back in control, you responded.

“It is difficult for me to talk about my family. I was too young to be without my parents when they died. The Prydes did everything they could for me, but I still feel their loss constantly. I’m sure you understand?” Ren nodded, reticent. The door behind you opened, and General Hux stepped in, replacing his own gloves on his hands and shrugging his greatcoat onto his shoulders.

“Why is your guard outside the door?” He asked, and Ren rifled through his thoughts. So the Trooper was meant to spy on you. Or, more accurately, on Ren. He hadn’t expected the general to stoop so low.

“I don’t need a guard, General. I’m fine! Who’s going to kill me aboard the ship?” You were exasperated, but amicably so, a soft warmth for the general’s concern in your chest pushing out your fear from before. Fear that Ren had caused. The thought made him a little sick.

“You can never be too careful, Lieutenant,” Hux addressed you, but his eyes were on Ren. Should Ren tell you about Hux’s scheming? He weighed the potential outcomes in his mind, trying to predict how you would react.

“You act like there’s never been a price on your head,” you mumbled, too cavalier about this whole situation. Hux chose to ignore the comment and addressed Ren instead. 

“The prisoner confirmed that the Lieutenant was correct about the nature of his employment, but wouldn’t give me the name of his patron or the reason they selected her as the target.”

“Your turn,” you said to Ren as he replaced his helmet on his head. There was an awkwardness in the way that you spoke to him, and it seemed unlikely that you’d forget the conversation about your family any time soon, but Ren was more determined than ever to show you that he was worthy of your trust, that he could protect you.

The interrogation room was cold, icily so, and Ren felt the chill through the many layers that he wore. The prisoner was restrained before him, his face distorted in places from the swelling, a trickle of blood running down his nose.

“Tell me about your employer,” Ren started, tuning into the thoughts of the man before him. His mind was heavily guarded, even after the general’s interrogation, an impressive feat.

“Tell me about the girl,” he responded. Even as beaten as he was, he still managed to look above it all, running his tongue over his upper lip, smearing some of the blood across his face. Ren paused. A small light blinked red near the exit, a sign that you could hear anything happening in the other chamber of interrogation room through the comms channel. Ren shut it off with the force, nervous at the thought of you listening in.

“What do you want to know?” Ren asked, keeping track of the man’s pulse, prodding for the weak spots in his mind. He knew that if he kept the conversation casual, the prisoner might let his guard down, keep the most important information close to the surface.

“She single?” he asked, with a laugh and then continued, “I know that you like her,” and Ren’s fists clenched at his sides, “you’re a very easy man to read. Is that why you wear the mask?” He was taunting him openly, and Ren momentarily lost sight of the prisoner’s thoughts as the anger crept in.

“Who hired you?” Ren asked more forcefully, and the man flinched, his whole body seized with the effort of keeping his mind closed.

“Did I hit a nerve?” He was struggling to speak between gritted teeth, but the words kept coming, “Who would have thought that someone like you would have such a soft spot?” He laughed, and Ren strengthened his hold on the man’s mind, no longer searching for answers, hoping only to hurt him. Desperate to get him to stop.

“Seems foolish, to me at least. A girl like that is not easily satisfied, if you know what I mean.” Ren could not avoid understanding the innuendo, deep enough in the man’s mind to see exactly what he was implying. The prisoner was breathless, struggling against the restraints, but laughing still, thwarting Ren’s attempts so easily. 

Ren gave in to the anger, letting go of all his pointless self-restraint, and plunged into the man’s mind without sense. The prisoner screamed in pain, but Ren ignored it. Clawing through a mind this way was dangerous, but he could not stand the alternative. If the prisoner kept talking this way, he’d kill him. The door flew open just as Ren found what he wanted; you and Hux ran in, followed closely behind by the Trooper. 

“What the hell happened?” Hux yelled, looking between Ren and the prisoner. The man was unconscious now, his breathing rapid and shallow. Low, wretched moans escaped his lips, and he twitched like he was having a terrible nightmare. Ren ignored Hux, turning to FN-2187 instead.

“Contact the captain. Tell her the prisoner is ready for his execution.” The Trooper left immediately, glad to be far away from Ren’s wrath. You and Hux stared at him, wide-eyed, surprised. Waiting.

“I’ve found the name of the target. Call a meeting.”

Tags: @dark-night-sky-99​, @ddaeing​