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presidenthades · 1 year

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I am doing very minor revisions of Daemon’s Handbook (mostly formatting and continuity errors), and I wanted to do some behind-the-scenes commentary before too much time passes and I forget my original thoughts. Here’s Chapter 7!

(Note that these commentaries aren’t canon to the verse until/unless the author writes them into the series. I might change my mind on a few points later, but these are the thoughts I had while writing.)

If I had to pick a favorite chapter to write, it’s this one. It’s the first post-time skip chapter, so we get to behold all the children (now young adults) in full horny mood.

Also, Alyssa develops a personality, and BOY is it a personality. I originally planned to make her a female version of Aegon III, who is very quiet, but it occurred to me that a hellion would be more fun (and torturous for Daemon, which is the real goal in this fic).

Aegon and Aemond are supposed to return directly to King’s Landing and wait with their family to receive the Dragonstone party, but Aegon decided he couldn’t wait to see Jace again and Aemond only required mild convincing to go along. And yes, the boys took a bath first in some river so they look nice and groomed~

One of Jace’s biggest character quirks is anxiety. She has ALL the anxiety. Comes with being an eldest sibling and second in line for the throne. I don’t consider her shallow, but she perceives her appearance as an important part of her political and social toolkit because the society they live in puts a lot of stock in appearances, especially women’s. So she’s finicky about looking the right part for every occasion. (Also she wants to look nice for her husband whom she hasn’t seen in three years, nothing wrong with that.)

I made Luce a knitter, partly because I’m a knitter and I like incorporating my interests, and partly because I wanted to give her a textile craft that wasn’t embroidery. I hope I’m not being too biased when I say that in this era, knitted products (like socks) are more useful than embroidered products (like fancy handkerchiefs). The practical value of knitting, and it being an acceptable craft for ladies even if it’s not as popular as embroidery, seemed fitting for Luce, who isn’t super conventional but also not a complete rebel. I also really like the imagery of her sending flowery socks to the Stepstones for Aegon and Aemond and Grandpa Corlys to wear.

Daemon is fit for his age, but he’s in his 40s and he’s got a lot of old battle wounds, so chasing around toddlers is fairly strenuous. Also, toddlers are FAST. Alyssa is closer to three than two, and she’s spent her entire life trying to keep up with her older sisters, so she’s got a fairly good sense of balance and isn’t stumbling around as much.

“Pretty girl” is 100% Aegon’s pet name for Jace, and I’m using it gratuitously in one of the sequel fics, which is Jace and Aegon-centric. (I’ll have an update soon on what I’m writing next, but I’ve decided to break down the epic longfic idea into multiple, more manageable mid-length fics.)

Aemond thinks Alyssa is spooked by his eyepatch and scar at first, but she’s actually falling in love at first sight. 😂 She’s got heterochromia so she probably *likes* that his eyes aren’t symmetrical either.

Aegon and Aemond are no longer afraid of Daemon! They’ve seen a lot of shit in the Stepstones, so their middle-aged uncle seems like less of a big deal now. Poor Daemon.

Aegon and Aemond are currently 18 and 16, so I made their stomachs black holes like most teenaged boys. They also have been eating a lot of rations at the Stepstones, even as royal princes, so a “plain” meal at Dragonstone seems awesome.

I have nothing to say about the melons, except that I’m very sorry for Lucera 🥲

Idk why but there’s something about Jace being very dutiful and proper that attracts messy rebels like Aegon and Baela. Opposites attracting, maybe? Kinda like how Luce is on the wilder side but Aemond is super put-together. I’ve thought about a crackish scenario where Viserys messes things up (as usual) and betroths Jace/Aemond and Luce/Aegon. I think Jace and Aemond would get bored with each other while Luce and Aegon might accidentally kill each other.

Jace and Aegon know their siblings are being stupid about their feelings for each other. Jace tries not to meddle (she doesn’t like it when Daemon meddles so she resists the urge), and Aegon makes fun of Aemond in the half-hearted hope it’ll goad Aemond into doing something.

I like to imagine that Luce eventually invents double-entry accounting in this universe. I also think she’s a big fan of the abacus, which is a more visual way of keeping track of numbers. She also likes charts and graphs in general.

The three dragonglass daggers that Luce orders from the blacksmith are for her, Jace, and Joff. (Luce loves all her sisters, but she has a special place in her heart for the three of them who are full-blooded sisters.) Purple for Jace (royal color for the future queen), green for Luce (like the sea and Velaryon colors), red for Joff (Targaryen color, nice and bloody). She isn’t expecting her sisters to use them as weapons; she wanted to make a gesture before Jace’s official wedding, since it marks a huge change in their lives.

I keep describing Luce and Aemond’s relationship in this fic as Pride and Prejudice-esque, and I stand by it. Miscommunication, ego issues, awkward flirting, a failed first proposal. One commenter described Daemon as the anti-Mrs Bennet, trying his best NOT to let the girls marry. 😂 And if we keep the analogy going, Clement Celtigar is Mr Collins while Otto is the closest thing we have to Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

I established in the beginning that Daemon is very bad with feelings. This scene where he tries to comfort Baela is part of his character arc and emotional growth, but he stumbles a few times more before the end of the fic.

I am very pleased that so many readers pinpointed Joff/Daeron as black cat and golden retriever energy, because I was definitely going for that. Daeron spews a lot of word vomit in his one line of dialogue, but you might notice he mentions “I got that thing you really wanted.” See the final scene in Chapter 11 for “that thing.” 👀

Jace is making PR a priority in her reign (and before her reign). She’s observed how loyal the Dragonstone smallfolk are to the Targaryens and wants to spread that loyalty to the realm’s smallfolk in general. This is why she and Aegon do the flight into the city, and why she has her Princess Diana moment on the way to the wedding.

Chapter 8 commentary here

#my writing #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #meta #hotd fic #house of the dragon fanfic #daemon’s handbook

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imagine-this-doesnt-suck · 5 months

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Dead Doves were Born to be Eaten

YellowJewl

Summary:

For people that have been asking for a part two to sleeping with Spiders, I hope you're happy you little nasties. We're back and gorier than ever It's fucked, real fucked. But let's face it, a part of you always has been. Long before you met him. Maybe you were born a monster. But the thing is, even monsters crave a connection.

Notes:

If you are my friend please don't read this. It's not a reflection of who I am, just some horny fucked up shit I wrote. That being said, I'm a Feitan simp and the spirit of Halloween's wh*re possessed me to write this.

This first chapter is a bit of background for our Y/N, Feitan will return in ch.2, this is the same Y/N from sleeping with spiders

Chapter 1

You remember every year as the summer months transitioned into the cool, unforgiving autumns of your youth, your father and your older brother would leave to go on their annual three week hunting trip. As the only daughter you remained uninvited to the deer hunt every year, as your father fed you excuses like 'you're too young' or 'you have to stay home with your mother and the baby, keep em safe sweetheart' or this one's rich, 'it's just something for me and your brother, you wouldn't have any fun."

But lo and behold, after his tenth birthday, when the leaves began to brown on the trees, would you guess who was finally invited on your father's hunting trip? You all sat around the breakfast table, your little brother pokes at the runny egg that lays atop of his bowl of rice as your father tells him what fun the three of them are going to have. You have yet to say anything on the matter but, your older brother from across the breakfast table gives you a knowing look before he looks to your father and rolls his eyes.

If you were more mature and a bit more empathic, you might feel the slightest bit of pity for your old man. All his life he wanted to be a hunter. A poacher hunter like his grandfather before him. Even learning the tiniest bit of nen in his youth, training his hardest before he was finally able to take the exam.

He failed three times.

Three years in a row, came and went before your mother, his long term girlfriend at the time, finally announced that she was pregnant and he was to give up this foolish endeavor and get a real job. He of course reluctantly agreed.

Still the man clung to his dream with a subtleness that your mother could never really call him out for. Whether it be keeping up with hunter news, signing your older brother up for endurance training in hopes that he could one day secretly show him nen, or dragging him off to the woods to hunt. The man had only this one escape from his dull life, and that was to push his dreams and aspirations onto his sons. Too bad for him that his eldest was a lazy pervert, banned from his university for harassment, and his youngest, a timid recluse who despised leaving the house. Both of them could give less of a shit about his dreams.

His oddball daughter, being you of course, wasn't even considered when it came to training whoever it would be to carry your fathers torch that in truth, he himself never never got to hold. And it wasn't as if you met any of your mother's expectations. You were just the quiet girl who never went anywhere without her sketchbook. Nothing special and always overlooked. Even at this moment.

"I'll go." You say as you stare straight at your father. He turns to look at you but swiftly turns away, uneasy under your gaze.

In his cowardice he can't even look you in the eyes as he rejects you. Instead he stares down at his breakfast as he says, "We've been over this, sweetheart. You wouldn't like it anyways. Camping outside, with the bugs, wouldn't you much rather stay at home with your mother?"

"No." You answer honestly and apparently a bit too quick for your mother's taste as she swats the back of your head and scolds you. Ignoring her, you continue on "You've always said I was too young or it was just a thing for you two" you say as you gesture between him and your older brother. "But now you're letting the brat go?" You receive another swat as your mother tells you not to call your brother names.

Your father opens his mouth to make his argument but your older brother cuts him off, "Come on dad, she really wants to go. Besides, with more people there, it'll take the pressure off Jr. here." He says as he ruffles your baby brother's hair beside him.

With a sigh, and despite the glare he was receiving from your mother, he finally relented and said, "Fine."

That is what brought you to the Fall you spent swaddled in a large camo jacket and an orange vest as your family was huddled up in a deer stand.

Your father lectures your little brother for the thousandth time about gun safety and how to hold the contraption. Your eldest brother looks like he's half asleep as he lazily chews on a strip of beef jerky.

You kneel by the window of the deer stand, peering out towards the lush forest. Its once verdant green leaves were now far and few between as nature ran its course and gave way to the auburn reds and warm oranges of autumn. The air was crisp and the cold bit at your nose as your eyes grazed the picturesque landscape before you. As you stared out intently, a cool brown shade swept across your vision, a detail so small that you had almost missed it. You had spotted a deer through the thick brush of trees.

Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn't expected to see one so soon. Quickly, with shaky hands you lift the rifle that up until then had been sitting useless in your hands. You steady it and take aim.

Meters away from your position in the stand, the deer stares back at you.

You feel a rush of adrenaline flow through you as your pulse begins to quicken and you can hear the blood pumping in and out of your vascular valves, in your ears. You're ready.

Your finger finds the trigger and you pull back the bolt that until now had been locked in place.

A shot rings out, breaking the silence of the forest and causing a cluster of birds to take flight and flee from a nearby tree. Your father's head whips around ready to scold you for taking a shot without permission.

You calmly wave him off, "I took a shot. It fell." You say with a shrug. Masking the raw excitement fueling you in the moment.

"What?" Your father asks in confusion.

"It fell. Did I get it?" You answer back.

Your father sighs and looks at your little brother, who's chewing on a piece of jerky in his lap.

"You know how dangerous that could have been, don't you? If your mother heard about this-"

"But I got it." You repeat, waiting for him to congratulate you.

You're not exactly sure why, but his expression softens a bit as he nods at you.

"Good job."

The four of you trek out into the forest to retrieve your kill. It takes a bit before you finally smell the steely scent of blood fill the air. Your family is silent as you walk through the woods.Your older brother walks alongside you, his hand on your shoulder.

Your father walks behind, with your younger brother clinging to his leg.

Just as you reach what you think will be the young stag you had shot, your father stops dead in his tracks. You brother gasps, and you stare blankly ahead. Yes the deer you shot lay dead on the forest floor but not forty feet away is a horrific sight that will haunt your family for years. A corpse of a hunter leaning against a tree as five deer surround him, eating his remains.

The man has been shot through the head, and his face looks as though he's aged twenty five years in the past week.

You find yourself unable to look away.

His face is frozen in a rictus of pain as he leans against the tree, the five deer still tearing at his face.

Even as a child you knew that expression, and it would not be one you'd soon forget.

Your little brother begins to sob in fear. Your older brother wraps you in a hug in order to shield your eyes from the sight. But you keep looking at it. You don't want to look away.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god." Your baby brother sobs as he buries his face in the crook of your dad's elbow, trying to hide from the gruesome reality.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay." your father says to him but it is all white noise to you as you are ingulfed in the moment. You we're unable to tear your gaze away from the corpse, in fact you don't think you wanted to even if you could. The sight of the corpse became an almost religious experience. You didn't know it yet but, this is the day that would become a catalyst in your life. The day changed you forever, and the real you had begun to awaken from her slumber.

You look back towards your family, who are now staring back at you, now noticing your intense gaze. You hear your father clear his throat uncomfortably and say, "We're heading back to the house."

Your mother had been understandably pissed. She forbade any future hunting trips as she sobbed about how her children were probably traumatized forever. You had never seen your mother that mad. Not even when you had broken your arm on the playground and it had been cast in plaster did she yell at you that way. She was practically seething, her shouting at your father made her voice hoarse and the sobbing she would resort to every ten words made her sound like a dying animal.

But you didn't really care all the much in the long run. Having made her lose her temper with you multiple times before, you figured the storm would pass. And so you three kids went to bed with the sound of your parents arguing in the background. Your older brother had cornered you in the hall later that night to tell you it wasn't your fault but you were pretty sure he had only said it to reassure himself. He wrapped you in one of his usual too tight hugs that always went on a bit too long and made you squirm uncomfortably before letting you go and giving you a solemn look.

Brushing the encounter off, you made your way to the robin egg blue painted room to tuck your little brother into bed. Jr. was abnormally quiet for the whole routine before you leaned down to kiss his forehead and wish him a goodnight. He shrunk back at your touch.

"Don't touch me." He said, spitting up at you.

You gasped at the action. Never before had he ever done any of the sort to anyone. The normally shy and docile boy had been so quick to judge. It had caught you off guard. Wiping the saliva off your face you take a deep breath and regain your composure. It had been a long day and you figured that you would give the kid room for error in such a turbulent time. You brush the hair out of his face, "It's going to be okay."

"No!" He growled at you, "Youre a monster, someone was dead and you don't even care. You were excited, weren't you? I saw. I saw you."

You smiled softly at him, pretending to ignore him, "I love you, little man. You know that?" 'I love you' had come to become the turn of phrase in your household that one would throw out when they were finished with uncomfortable discussions. A white flag thrown out onto the field to keep the peace. It didn't mean that you thought you were in the wrong it was only said to placate your opponent. Your little brother only looked at you in disgust.

All that to say that you truly did love him. You really did. You loved your entire family. But you knew that you were different and they might never understand. You were a monster. You were the devil. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down.

"I know you're scared, little man."

"You're a monster." He repeats.

You didn't argue back. There was no point in it. Instead you held his hand and looked him straight in the eye. "I know. But even monsters want to feel a connection." You say before turning off his nightlight and leaving the room.

Eventually you would find your connection.

It wouldn't be human. It wouldn't be your family. It wouldn't be your friends.

But someone a lot like you.

You were a monster.

He was the devil.

#feitan hxh #x reader #feitan x reader #feitan porter x reader #feitan #hxh #hxh x reader #dead dove do not eat

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pizzazz-party · 3 years

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THEORY TIME!

Fresh from imprisonment, Dragaux complains that he’s now “ totally out of shape.” Of course he’s kind of a drama queen. But how long was he trapped inside Ring, really?

Dragaux implies that Ring didn’t keep him frozen in suspended animation, but it’s not like he could have been in there for that long, right? Because otherwise he would have been bitching about losing years of his life to captivity, right?

Except? I don’t think it was for a short while. And evidently: Dragaux isn’t human. As per popular eastern mythology, dragons tend to have incredibly long natural lifespans. They are commonly symbols of longevity. So it’s not that wild to think Dragaux could have been held in there for a really long time. Especially because we don’t know jack shit in-game about his species.

sorry i couldn’t resist.

Ahem.

At any rate, Dragaux himself isn’t giving up any more hints. So for more clues, we must look to Ring.

Ring, our little support buddy, light of my life, more encouraging than my own judgmental father, has been out of commission for just as long as Dragaux. (And was straight up comatose during it too.) Just keeping Drags sealed away took everything Ring had—his energy, his voice, his face—up until Dragaux essentially freed them both.

But pre-imprisonment, Ring was clearly a major player in the world. Everywhere you go, his visage is all over the place from treasure chests to still-well-maintained gyms to forest paths to temples spanning over 20 different worlds in-game. His influence is everywhere.

His image is in places he’s never before set foot in, even.

You play this game, and you get the impression that not a lot has changed in the world since Ring’s little vacancy from reality. What Ring does know of the places you’re traveling to, tends to be accurate. He never fusses about technology being so advanced these days, golly, like a true Man Out of Time either. He certainly doesn’t act like he’s been horribly displaced in time. (Though he does comment he’s never seen a treasure chest that can run before.)

And then you remember how his face is actually everywhere. And that the public frequently (canonically) uses these outdoor spaces for their own training and travel. And finally you get to the sinking realization that not one human being has recognized Ring this whole time.

(Hell, people probably think he’s mimicking the courses, and not the other way around.)

(Side note: No one recognizes Dragaux from his—frankly—insane statues either, but I focus on Ring here because Drags’ stadiums are always built far from town, in out-of-the-way places. They’re not very accessible to the average jogger, and were probably never meant to be. It sort of doesn’t matter how detailed his stone pecs are, if no one’s around to see them.)

When I first wrote up this theory (almost a month ago yikes), I felt pretty frustrated. The game doesn’t want you to think too hard about stuff like this, because the world building isn’t the point. The actual exercise is. (And to a lesser extent, the lovable cast of characters.) The game doesn’t want to give you a set timeline, so it pointedly doesn’t. (Unless it does? I’m currently on World 19.)

At the time it took me a couple days to realize that, while I’m probably boo-boo the fool for wishing for specifics, the game actually does give us a fossil to carbon-date this part of the timeline.

Behold!

That’s right. Granny to the rescue.

Master Guru Andma is seemingly the oldest human being alive in the game. The four masters are supposed to be paradigms of health, because they all take very good care of themselves! But she’s lost most of her teeth to age anyway. It could be a stylistic choice, but to me it reads like an indicator that she’s seriously old. I’d put her age anywhere between 70 to 100 years old.

(It’s a video game. She can be a hundred and still lose to me in manage fitness battles. It’s fine.)

So let me repeat that. Guru Andma, the eldest human being alive in Ring Fit Adventure, is at least 70+ years old. Maybe she’s just playing coy, maybe her eyesight is genuinely that bad... but she also doesn’t seem to recognize Ring or Dragaux. And she’s not just some random old lady! She’s one of the famous Four Masters, a pillar in her international communities! She’s literally got Ring’s donut motif styled into her hair and hanging around her neck, and she still doesn’t know who he is.

So, at the very least, Ring and Dragaux have been gone for nearly a century.

———

Way back in The Before, I’m sure the people Ring left behind tried to keep his memory alive by telling stories. But give it enough time, and eventually even stories can die out.

TLDR; Ring had Dragaux trapped for at least 70+ years. And I’m not sure if Ring is even aware it’s been that long.

—

(Disclaimer: I’m still going through the final stretches of the main game myself. This is just for fun. I’ll edit this if, when, and where applicable in the future.)

#I’m on world 19 but concrete spoilers only up to about world 7 here under the cut #...unless you count the outfits in these screenshots heheh #ring fit adventure #dragaux #ring #pizzazz meta #pizzazz post #this has been complete for a while. just needed some polishing!

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wondershawns · 4 years

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Take Over

A/N: So uh this came from a discussion ages ago in a group chat about the triplets as CEOs and then about the triplets as gods. Behold my CEO/ sons of Hades AU. By far the weirdest thing I’ve ever written, won’t happen again but yeah

Word count: 4722

Warnings: Smut (is anyone even surprised) but like weird sort of an orgy kind of smut so read at your own risk, told you this was the weirdest shit I ever wrote I was so close to not posting it

. “Raul, did you go through the interviews?” Shawn walked into his brother’s office, looking up from the folder he was holding.

“Uh?” The eldest of the triplets looked from his screen. “No. Peter did it, he found someone. She’s starting on Monday.”

“Great,” He muttered. “Hopefully it’ll be someone that’s good at something this time.”

“Perrie not doing her job right?” Raul ran a tattooed hand through his hair, and his brother rolled his eyes.

“She can’t find a file to save her life, this isn’t how we’re going to take over this mess.” Shawn motioned to the window with a disdainful look, humans were too stupid to understand the potential their earth had.

“Guess at least we’ve got some order set down in our world,” He shrugged. “I’ve gotta finish this and then we can go home. Heard a bunch of demons were throwing a little party tonight.”

“Mmh, I’ve seen that too. I’ll be with Peter, find us when you’re ready to leave.”

Raul finished what he was working on, saving the content of his computer on a disc before he locked his office up. Working on earth to take over the place and install rules to fix the mess humans had created was an ambitious project, it would take time, but they were determined to succeed. Still, going back to the underworld at night and on most weekends was always a relief, they were respected there, their kingdom was ruled firmly but with justice.

He found his brothers soon after packing up and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, letting Peter place his hand in the middle of the gigantic wooden door first. It was sculpted in shapes that scared humans, snakes, demonic monsters, horns, spiders and other dark creatures. Peter’s hand was set on the bear, and Shawn placed his on the wolf right above before Raul took his place, his palm covering the roaring lion deeply carved into the wood.

Locks turned deep into the wood until the door cracked open and they pushed it, widening the space before they all went through. Raul closed it behind them, listening to check the locks clicked back into place and it was safely shut before following his brothers through a corridor, the warm light of the underworld lighting up the place.

Despite what one might think, the air was pure in the underworld, much purer than the polluted one they had to breathe when they were on earth. Magic was known by everyone, a useful tool for energy sources and just about anything they might want to do.

The three brothers strolled down the street, heads high as demons parted way to let them walk through all the way to the highest point in the kingdom, the mountain from which the lava river flowed, their source of heat and of light during the night. Their materials were built to withstand extreme heat, allowing the lava to glide through built canals along the city below them.

They crossed the bridge over their own canal in front of the castle, the corridors illuminated by the passing liquid along the walls. They had the privilege of not being burned by the lava, it came from deep within the mountain, where their source of magic was, and just as they controlled the magic they controlled who could be burned.

It flowed like blood through their veins, giving them energy and power. Their eyes glowed red in their world, but being on earth attenuated their strength because of the distance it put between them and the source of their magic. When they were far their eyes were brown enough to pass as human, but anyone who looked to closely would see their irises changing like liquid was swirling in them.

“Good morning,” Raul eyed you walking into the room, a pile of work already set on his desk to give to you. It was his way of testing how motivated you were. It was obvious no one could go through it in a day, but he wanted to see how you’d handle it.

“Good morning,” You smiled politely.

“Here’s what you’re going to start with.” He patted the pile of documents. “Fill what needs to be filled and make sure everything is classified properly. If you have questions, take them to Connor.”

“Alright,” You picked up your work. “Do you need anything else?”

“You, out of my office.” He smiled sweetly and waved as you left.

This was going to be fun. Shawn and Peter had been fairly welcoming, professional, but not as cocky as Raul was. It was a shame since he was the one you were going to be working for the most. Your job description wasn’t the clearest, so you assumed there would be a lot of multitasking for the triplets, but Shawn and Peter each had an assistant already, Raul apparently just could never stand his.

You were born in heaven as an angel, more like reborn from your mortal life, but you didn’t remember your human past. Falling from heaven had been tough, as were the reasons that lead to your downfall, and you were only just getting used to what your life had become. Living without your wings was harder than you could have ever imagined, but working on earth reminded you of home.

It took you no time to realise Raul worked better on his own. He didn’t need your help, and his brothers rarely asked you to do anything unless they were sharing a file with him. Instead of bothering him to work the way the other two assistants did, you kept to yourself, classifying Raul’s work and doing your part without asking him questions. He still found ways to dismiss you, of course, but he wasn’t making your life hard the way other people in the office told you he would when they learned you’d work for him.

It was exhausting, and it was only at night that you found a place that reminded you of home, a place where you didn’t need to hide as much, where you could breathe.

The underworld was everything besides what you had expected the first time you walked in. The light was warm, contrasting with the cold white of heaven, it wasn’t what you were used to, but it was somewhat welcoming. The rules were different from heaven too, everything was expected to run smoothly but work was never detrimental to fun.

Demons were reckless, as far as you could see. They partied and played with no boundaries, but the one thing you did like about them was that they didn’t ask questions. No one expected perfection, none of them expected you to know your place, they didn’t ask where you were from, they didn’t ask who you were.

All you had to tell them was what they should call you, and after that it was like you were part of the group already. You had a place to stay in the underworld, people who could answer your questions as long as they weren’t too personal, and nothing was asked of you in exchange.

You needed work on earth to keep you sane, spending your whole life working among other angels in heaven had taught you rigour and you couldn’t handle sitting around without a job. When you had fallen you found yourself on earth, and you thought that as bad as it was it was always better than the underworld.

It took you a few weeks to decide to go down there when you first fell, and you didn’t regret it for a second. It was nothing like heaven but it felt more like home than earth ever could.

You realised the dangers of the double game you were playing when you discovered the triplets, or the Kings, as other demons called them, were not only CEOs of the company you worked for but also the rulers of the underworld. It didn’t take a genius to understand they wanted to assert power over the earth, and you used to be placed high enough in heaven to know other angels were not aware of this.

It made your position trickier than planned. As long as they saw you on earth they couldn’t know what you were, but if they ever saw you in the underworld they would immediately understand, and it could cost you what was left of your life.

You stayed away from events they would be at in the underworld as much as you could. You worked for them during the day, handling Raul’s moods by making sure everything you did was perfect (he couldn’t be mad at you if you didn’t make a single mistake) but you avoided them the rest of the time.

It took months for your curiosity to get the best of you. You weren’t close to anyone in the underworld, but some demon on your street was usually helpful when you were lost regarding their habits and lifestyle. They sat with you, teaching you how to use enchanted objects with the lava, it was the only way to use it without being burned, a courtesy of the triplets to make some of their work easier. This particular demon forged things ranging from knives to chains to jewelry, and you quickly took it upon yourself to start making small chains yourself.

It was your contribution to work in the underworld, a small compensation for your right to stay there. It was easy and repetitive, a way for you to build your skills with metal before you could move on to different items. It didn’t take a lot of thinking from you and gave you time to learn about the underworld.

You gathered details about the Kings through the nights, sliding in questions without seeming too eager to collect information. They looked over the kingdom, ensuring work was done and everything could function. You learned about the levels of hell they had created, the one you were in was accessible to any supernatural creature and permanent stay was to be gained through work, it was rewarded with freedom. Lower levels lost freedom, no one would willingly go there, they were used to punish souls and the punishments worsened through the levels, all the way down to Tartarus where the Titans were still trapped.

The Kings took over after Hades, reworking the system to something that would suit them. As far as you knew they didn’t need sleep, you were with them all day when they worked on earth, but they also had to sort through all the souls of humans dying every night. Heaven claimed what they decided to be the best ones, gaining angels while the rest were left to the underworld.

Somehow, in the middle of all of this, the triplets still found time for fun with other demons. They participated in night life, and they regularly organised their own parties. They were what everyone talked about, there was no announcement, just the spreading of information by demons and it somehow always made its way to you.

Those parties, as far as you knew, were purely for sex. You were taken aback when you first heard it, but the more you heard about them the more curious you grew. It was a sort of tradition, almost a ritual, but no one was forced to participate in it.

The triplets only planned them every once in a while, and any interested demon was welcome to show up. Everyone came dressed in black, a dark colour that made everyone blend in the room as they danced and drank under flashing lights.

It was only when the Kings changed the light to bathe the room in a red hue that the doors closed. The lava flowed in streams like veins along the floor, walls and ceiling of the room, illuminating it. It was the only time everyone was immune to its burning capacities without an enchanted object. Doors locked and clothes fell before the fun could start, and while the idea was scary and unfamiliar to you it filled you with a thrill.

You could sneak in, you could stay in the back, take a look to fulfill your curiosity and leave before doors were locked.

It was your plan that Saturday night, but plans didn’t work as well in hell as they did in heaven. You should have seen it coming, but the innocence of your time around angels was still influencing you to think things could go right.

“Well well well,” Raul approached you, fully dressed in black for the occasion in accordance with everyone else. He stood out anyway, probably because of his height and the aura of strength that emanated from him. “Look who were have here.”

“Raul,” You greeted him politely, but instead of ignoring you like he did in the office he grinned.

“A fallen angel? I was wondering what you were, you’re a little too efficient to be human.” He traced your jaw with his finger like you were his, and when you were in his world, you kind of were.

“Does that bother you?” You cocked your head to the side, trying to keep your composure. Only he and his brothers could recognise what you were, and it could get you in big trouble if they decided you were untrustworthy.

“Not at all sweetheart,” He set his hands on the table behind you, trapping you against his body. “But you seem a little too innocent to be here,”

“Do I now?” You steadied your breathing, bending back just enough to keep a small distance between your chest and his. His eyes were mesmerising, completely different from what you were used to seeing on earth, and you had a hard time focusing.

“We’re not working, so how about we get you to loosen up, mmh?” The next step he took placed his foot between yours, allowing his knee to keep your legs parted while his chest pressed against yours.

“Actually, I think I should go,” You looked to the side for the door that was still open for now, so much for slipping by unnoticed.

“Trying to slip away before the fun starts?” Raul chuckled, pulling at the strap of your dress to have it fall off your shoulder. “I don’t think so sweetheart.”

“Pick one of your demons.” You pushed at his chest, but he didn’t budge, leaning in closer instead to rile you up.

“What if I want a sweet little angel tonight?” His breath was hot on your neck and you held your breath.

Raul backed away with a satisfied smirk, turning around and walking through the crowd. He snapped his fingers and a red hue fell over the room, the light reflecting in his crimson eyes.

“Let’s get started then,” He unbuttoned his shirt while other demons undressed hastily, he and his brothers walking up to the three thrones waiting for them. The crowd parted to make space for them, lava swirling along the floor following their path.

Raul ditched his shirt along the way, followed by the rest of his clothes until he reached his place, the first throne on the left. Shawn’s place was in the middle, followed by Peter. They each already had someone with them, Peter’s girl was sitting across his lap and nipping at his neck while Shawn made out with the one straddling him.

“C’mon then,” Raul licked his lips as he motioned for a girl he spotted to come closer. “Kneel.” He demanded, watching her fall to her knees with her hands behind her back as she bent over, her tongue immediately coming out to lick his cock.

He didn’t move to touch her, instead he rested his elbow on the armrest of the throne, flicking his wrist for lava to course its way through the engravings of his throne. You were mesmerised by the control they had over this power and the way it made their white skin glow red.

You hesitantly dipped your fingers in the stream closest to you that was making its way through cracks in the floor, gasping at the warmth that didn’t just touch your hand but your entire body. Your eyes travelled back to Raul, finding him with a second demon joining the other, both of them kneeling between his parted legs.

Raul wasn’t watching them at all, he was looking straight at you, lust written all over his face as he took in the naked parts of you he would see at the back of the crowd. He motioned another girl closer, letting her sit on the armrest of his throne as he reached between her legs, pushing two fingers inside of her. He watched her body arch for him before retrieving his hand, murmuring something in her ear that lead her to kiss over his chest.

Peter was getting a fair amount of attention too, three girls were over him kissing him and every part of his body he allowed them to touch. Unlike Raul, he was letting them use their hands and ran his through their hair, guiding them to where he wanted them.

Shawn was always more exclusive. He had his own fun every once in a while, but most of those nights were spent with one girl, and tonight the lucky one he had picked was already riding him on his throne.

It only took one snap of Raul’s fingers for you to have to join him. Everyone was attentive to anything the Kings may want, and if Raul wanted you they were all going to free your path to him. He got rid of the previous three girls with a murmur, sending them back into the crowd to make space for you.

“Hello angel,” He smirked once you were close enough, letting you stand in front of him fully naked.

You knew the rules. You knew them as soon as you stepped into this party, once clothes were off, the doors were closed and the only people who could let you out were the Kings. The ones who didn’t get to be with them would stay in this room until morning, having their fair share of fun after the triplets had made their pick and left somewhere private.

“Sit,” He motioned to his lap and you stepped closer, following his guidance until you were straddling him. “Do I turn you on sweetheart?” He saw your pussy and the inside of your thighs glistening with wetness.

“Yes.” You murmured, hesitantly adjusting your knees resting by his thighs.

“A little shy, aren’t we?” He teased you with a chuckle. “Do angels never have sex?”

“Not like this.” You admitted, knowing you had to answer him to follow the rules. You were to do anything he wanted.

“Loosen up darling,” He traced his thumb over your bottom lip. “We’re just here to have fun.”

He pushed you up and grabbed your hand, stepping through the crowd with you. Demons parted to make a path, disappointed that he was only picking you but still respectful of their ruler. A night with Raul wasn’t easy to get, he sometimes took his fill here and left alone, they all knew they had more chances with Peter.

You were thankful to be out of there although not reassured by being locked up in a room with Raul alone. There was a thrill to being with him but the rational part of you was still scared of what he could do to you.

You weren’t sure the room he brought you to was really his. There weren’t any personal belongings, just simple furniture and an appliance that resembled human fireplaces. It was constantly being filled by flowing lava to keep the room lit and warm.

You realised as you watched him that there wasn’t a single hesitation in anything he did. He was pure confidence, whether it was in his body or in his actions. Angels weren’t like that. They were sure they were working right, but they erased themselves to allow their achievements to be in the light. Raul knew what he was doing work wise but he also had a presence that made heads turn towards him no matter where he went, and he seemed to love the attention.

“Drink?” He materialised two clear wine glasses in his hands, handing you one.

“What is it?” You observed the liquid that definitely wasn’t wine. It looked like liquid gold, but you realised it wasn’t as thick as you would have thought from the colour as you swirled it in the glass.

“Ambrosia,” Raul tilted his head, observing your reaction.

“You’re a god,” You realised and your eyes widened in surprise.

“Demigod,” He corrected, giving you a few seconds to connect the dots. “We’re sons of Hades.”

“Of course,” You breathed out, understanding how they got their power and why they were so respected here. “I can’t drink this,” You tried to hand the drink back to him, but he left it in your hand.

“Humans and demons can’t drink this, you can,” He took a sip of his own glass, glowing red eyes still set on yours.

“I’m nothing like a god,”

“I know, I didn’t say it wouldn’t affect you,”

“Affect me how?” You turned suspicious, unmoving with the cup left in your hand.

“Well,” He circled you like a prey, stopping to stand behind you. “Ambrosia has a very predictable effect on angels,just a few sips you’ll feel your body relax.” He didn’t touch you, his hand doing nothing but hovering over your shoulder, letting the heat from his fingers diffuse to your skin. He could control the lava and who was burnt by it, so it only made sense that he could toy with his body’s temperature to play with you.

“And more than that?” Goosebumps appeared all over your body when you felt the warmth spreading through you. It was over as soon as it started, his hand retracting to his side although his breath still caressed the back of your neck.

“A full glass is enough to have you passed out for the night,”

“There must be an in between, I won’t go from relaxed to passed out in a sip,”

“No, you won’t, but past relaxing your muscles ambrosia will affect your mind, and then our little game wouldn’t be fair anymore, would it?”

He was a son of Hades, a god with a strong sense of honesty, and that was enough proof for you to know he wasn’t lying. Hades was just, and unlike Zeus he was always fair.

Ambrosia was your way out. Raul wasn’t saying it explicitly, but you didn’t have a shadow of a doubt that if you drank the whole glass right now you would wake up untouched. He wouldn’t do anything that wasn’t fair, so anything that clouded your mind would keep you safe, as ironic as that was.

He leaned against the wall, drinking from his cup and watching to see what you’d do. He knew you were smart enough to understand, so he simply waited. A small smirk played on his lips when you brought the cup to your lips. You dipped them in the liquid hesitantly before you took a small sip of the drink, setting the glass down on a table as soon as you felt the way it affected you.

You were his to play with now.

“Close your eyes,” He demanded, seeing you shiver as the tension in your muscles disappeared, but you were still holding his stare. “Close your eyes,” He ordered a second time, his voice more stern. “I don’t like having to ask for things more than once.”

You obeyed, whimpering when you felt one his hands wrap around your throat. You tilted your head back to expose your neck to him, allowing him to hold and control you.

“Good girl,” He saw your compliance and removed his hand from your neck slowly, dragging it down to your chest to play with your hardening nipples.

“What are you going to do to me?” You kept your eyes closed, feeling nothing but his fingers on your skin and the heat of his body close to yours.

“Anything I want,” He roughly grabbed your hips and made you fall on the bed.

You didn’t have time to react, falling into the position he dragged you into with your heart suddenly beating ten times faster than normal. You lay on your stomach, your cheek squished against a pillow and your arms extended over your head. You followed his guiding hand, less surprised when he made you get on your knees with your face still down.

“You’re dripping angel,” Raul took in the sight of you, receiving a breathy begging whimper. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need you,” You had control over what you said but the way your body felt was definitely influencing you. Everything that was holding you back when you got here with Raul was physical, your mind wanted this from the start, but the way you were used to behave stopped you from getting it.

“That’s right angel, you need me to play with you,” Raul placed a finger on the back of your neck and left a burning trail down your spine while your cunt clenched in front of his eyes.

You were getting wetter by the second with the anticipation and he didn’t make you wait for much longer. He settled on his knees behind you, one hand on your ass and the other one holding his cock so that he could rub it up and down your glistening pussy.

He watched your fluids coat him, your pussy ready to welcome him, but he wasn’t done teasing yet. This was all a game and you were his toy for the night. He pushed just the tip inside of you, feeling you clench in excitement already with a quiet moan he couldn’t have heard if he was human.

He pulled out and rubbed his head against you again, enjoying how swollen you were and taking pride in seeing you gripping the bed sheets already. He enjoyed torturing you like this and kept you on edge constantly, his touches being enough to arouse you even more without providing any satisfaction.

You desperately tried to move back for more contact, but Raul pulled back before you could get anything. His palm collided with the tender skin of your ass in punishment.

“Turn around,”

“I’m sorry,” You whispered quietly, knowing you should have waited for him to give you what he wanted to.

He was silent when he ran the tips of his fingers over your jaw, his skin hotter than you had ever felt it and almost burning you. Your legs were spread open with your knees on the mattress on either side of you and Raul’s cock sat at your entrance while he played with the heat of his skin on yours.

It made you squirm but you stayed as still as you could, proving to him that you were only going to do what he demanded. His fingers eventually reached your lips, tracing them before pulling your bottom lip down gently.

“You like being given orders, mmh angel?” He pushed his thumb past your lips so that you would open your mouth to make space for two of his fingers. You licked and sucked on the digits just the way he wanted you too. “Good thing I like giving them.” He filled you with one roll of his hips forward, earning a choked moan from you. “You know what I don’t like? I don’t like people lying to me, angel.”

Raul retrieved his fingers, deciding to wrap them around your delicate neck instead. It would be so easy for him to hurt you like that, you were powerless, but he wouldn’t have to get to that unless you misbehaved.

“I’m sorry,” You bit your lip when he pulled out agonisingly slow only to slam himself back into you.

“You really thought I wouldn’t find out?” He growled, fierce red eyes looking straight into yours. “You thought you could just keep on playing pretend forever?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” You repeated, your eyes falling shut when he picked up a punishing rhythm.

“You will be.”

So um, thoughts?

tags: @itrocksmysocks @r3ader @everythinghappening16@alilovesshawn @5-seconds-of-mendes @sleepybesson@ifiwasshawnmendesidslapmyself @chrizzy95@lovewithanattitude@justanotherfangurl272 @turtoix@mariamuses @tastebaldwin @queenmxndes @imaginashawnns @heart-struck @thotmendes @luvluvxx @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows @babieforshawnn@breakingblondiee @zaahidahhh @tnhmblive @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @adelaidestreets @palhacomendes @muffin-saucex @lanallaa @goldenmndes @fanficshawn @lostinmendess @connordavidscamera @dolansugar @shawnsthighs @valedictorian65 @havethetimeeofyourlifee @train-wrecc @mendesficsxbombay @curiouslycryptic @haute-shawn @wildflower-cth @shawnsblue @vinylmendes @hstyles-imagines @og-baby-ob14 @stardustom @shadowsndaisies@shawnftjacob@shawn-youth @readinthegarden12 @donutsandpalmtrees@daisyangei @fanficscuziranout (Let me know if you’d like to be added!)

#raul mendes #peter mendes #shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #mendes triplets #writing #smut #ceo au #sons of hades #fic #shawn mendes fic

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frenchy-and-the-sea · 4 years

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Ooo, 1, 9, 10, 11, and 16? 👀👀👀

OOO thank you for the questions!

1. What OC has the biggest family? How do they get along?

- Tahir, definitely. He’s the oldest of seven, from a family of nine altogether, with five sisters and a brother who is the baby of the family. For the most part, they’re a pretty happy bunch. Obviously there are squabbles between his younger siblings, and Tahir has been known to push his eldest sister’s buttons from time to time, but for the most part they’re all very fond of each other. His brother is....less fond of him, but is also a bit of a recluse, so it doesn’t cause too much (visible) friction. That said, Tahir has always felt a little bit like the black sheep in his family, so while they get along very well, his deep love of his family can get tinged a little bittersweet from time to time.

9. What is your favorite platonic relationship between your OCs?

- Platonic relationships are my bread and fucking butter, so picking a favorite is like picking my favorite child. Y’all have already heard me blather enough about Alex and Tahir though, so lemme talk about the dark horse in this race in the context of Seven Cities: Adelina and Finn. It takes a bit for them to start to bond, but when they do? They are FIERCELY devoted to each other. Obviously they still give each other shit, as adopted siblings are wont to do, but Adelina genuinely cares for Finn and Finn will kill a man for Adelina. They’re a good gossip match, Adelina likes to learn and Finn likes to show off, and their mutual flare for the dramatic puts them on the same page six days of seven.

God I love Finn and Adelina.

10. What is your favorite familial relationship between your OCs?

- I am VERY tempted to put Tahir and his eldest sister, but... ever since I wrote that thing with Alex and her half-brother Denny, I just. I can’t get them out of my head. Alex’s half-brother was originally a source of deep, deep resentment for her, and one that I never really thought about her resolving. Then I realized that if she met him even ONE time without her father around, she’d love that boy like her own child and lo and behold, she did. Alex is fiercely protective of her brother because she doesn’t want him to suffer like she did, and it is a point of pride for her that he lives a very long, happy life doing what he wants because she made sure that he knew what options were out there for him and made it HAPPEN when he finally decided.

11. What is your favorite romantic relationship between your OCs?

- Between MY OCs is definitely Alex and Adelina. They’re a very ‘support-to-slow-burn’ sort of romance, and definitely one of those ships that I turn to writing for comfort because so much of them is based in being comfort for one another. Adelina reminds Alex that she can cut loose and be ridiculous even in a position of power, and Alex bulldozes the way for Adelina to try and explore and DO all of the things that the world has denied her. It’s all very sweet. :>

16. Which OCs don’t know each other, but would get along great if they did?

- Val and Fizz would actually get on really well. Fizz’s general....everything would baffle Val in many ways, but her core is still about protecting people, and Val values a kind spirit like that more than just about everything else. Also, their respective gods are canonically bros, which would bring Fizz endless delight. She would declare Val her new best friend and then assure Casimir that best friend is a TIER and he still belongs there too, dw.

#frenchy replies #oc crap #seven cities #d&d #i wouldn't say they'd get along GREAT but #alex would actually be able to deal with zephyr #and while idk if they'd be FRIENDS #they'd probably respect each other on some level #which is WILD to think about

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otpnessmess · 5 years

Text

Of Casual Encounters And Late Nights Pt.2

Here it is! I don't know if it's as long as you wanted but it's almost double the first chapter. I hope you like it!

First Next Ao3

A week went by where Jason managed to avoid meeting Ladybug again while investigating, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t heard of her. Akuma attacks were as frequent as ever and gave him an opportunity to learn more about the terrors that had been plaguing Paris for years now apparently. He sent all new info on it to his family, who couldn’t believe none of it had reached them up until that point. Bruce was feeling particularly flabbergasted among them.

“You mean to tell me there’s been a terrorist in Paris for years, one that’s been destroying the city twice a week, and we knew absolutely nothing about it?” He seemed to be going through the seven stages of grief before excusing himself to call Diana.

Meanwhile, Jason’s brothers piled up in front of the computer screen wanting to hear more about the heroes and their work. Tim was looking up information on the internet while Dick asked questions nonstop about their powers, and their suits, and if he had had the chance to talk to them yet.

“They sometimes stay back after the attacks, but their powers have some kind of time limit so those are rare occasions, or so I’ve heard. They’re all proficient fighters and each have their own set of powers and weapon. Ladybug’s powers are the most impressive by far”

The mention of her name threw him right back into the memory of the night they first met. Despite resenting not being given an opening to talk to her more then, Jason had to admit leaving had been the right choice. He wanted to stay in the shadows as long as possible, and dealing with the police on his second night in the city wouldn’t have made that easy for him. Adding to that, even though he was quite stubborn and didn’t want to accept it, he felt curious about the spotted heroine. She was sassy and clever and, if the two battles she had this week were anything to go by, her abilities to strategize rivaled Tim’s.

He came back to the present with a jolt when Dick whined about him not paying attention, eliciting a snort from both him and Damian, who also looked at the eldest with a sneer. “You’re 29 Grayson, no one that age should be making those types of noises.” Jason would rather die than saying it out loud, but sometimes he did miss the dumbasses that were his brothers.

“You know, I don’t think we would have believed this was real even if someone had told us about it. I found a... Ladyblog? It has videos of almost every attack from the last 4 years as far as I can see, and these look every bit as outlandish as I expected them to. There’s this one where apparently the whole city was flooded.” Tim pulled up the video in the peripheral monitors for the others to see and, lo and behold, there was the video from the day Ondine had drowned Paris. Faint screams could be heard in the background as the person recording managed to get to the roof of a building just in time to see the people still left on the street be swiped by the giant wave. From then on it was all silent. “This is horrible, so many people must have died during this. How did they manage to recover? I’m sure the news of Paris underwater should’ve popped up SOMEWHERE.”

“They didn’t because it didn’t last more than an afternoon.” Jason ran a hand through his hair impatiently. The whole week he had been aching to go out as Red Hood but couldn’t risk meeting Ladybug and it was making him jittery. “That’s what Ladybug’s power is. She just….reverts everything. I haven’t been able to find out how yet, but I’ve been told it must be magic or some shit.”

“Reverts everything? Just like that? Like….turning back time?” Dick looked confused trying to come up with a rational explanation

“I don’t think so. Everyone except the victims remember everything that happened. It’s more of a cure, if you will. She fixes everything, makes a new Eiffel Tower appear, brings the dead back to life, you know, no big deal.” Jason couldn’t help but chuckle at their faces. “I know, if anyone tried to tell me this before I saw it myself I wouldn’t have believed it either.”

A moment of silence on his brothers’ end was interrupted by the return of Bruce. “Diana is positively furious right now. Apparently someone received a message from these heroes years ago and thought it was a joke, so they dismissed it. Diana asked to see the message and just unleashed hell on the poor guy after watching it. It seems her mother was a former Ladybug and she grew up knowing about the magic of the ‘Miraculous’” He said the word in a way that made his sons think he was as confused as they were “The League is planning to make a trip to Paris as soon as possible to assess the situation.”

Now that brought a frown to Jason’s face. “I know I’m usually the reckless one here, but listen to me for a moment. You’re just planning on barging in here, with an angry Wonder Woman, and a probably scared shitless League, to battle a guy who makes you his minion if you show the tiniest hint of a negative emotion? Imagine if Diana got akumatized. You must really want the apocalypse to start huh?”

He scanned their faces and wasn’t surprised to see skepticism and some smirks too. This was so not typical of him. Jason was a shoot first, ask second kinda guy, and he used to enjoy killing a little too much for it to be healthy. But he remembered what Ladybug had told him about resorting to the least amount of violence possible, and he was honestly worried about what could happen if three dozen superheroes just showed up one day to a fight. “Listen, as far as I can see, Ladybug and her team have things covered here. Give me some time to gather more information and maybe I can find a way for her and Red Hood to have a meeting. I’ll ask her if she still wants our help. But until then, you should refrain from bringing anyone here. Unless you want panic to run rampant among the citizens because the whole Justice League came.”

Snickers could be heard coming from Tim and Dick. Even Damian was trying not to show his amusement at the situation. “Who would’ve thought Todd actually had a brain. We should go if only to check whether he’s been replaced by a clone or something”

“Oh fuck off Demon Spawn, I can be smart too if I want to."

Their father seemed to be mulling over his words before sighing and nodding. “Alright. I think we can go along with what you said for now, but I want you to keep us updated regularly, and to inform us if something out of the ordinary happens. If you need us there, we’ll be on alert. And I expect that meeting with Ladybug to happen sooner rather than later. Also don’t forget why you’re originally there, we have to gather more information on what the Penguin is planning."

“You got it Brucie.” He made fingers guns at the screen with a click of his tongue. “Expect it to be at least a week until I have some big news for you, but I’ll try to make it happen as quickly as possible. And worry not about my mission, I’m almost done with it. Now my dear family, if you’ll excuse me, it’s already 2am and I would like to pretend to be a tourist at least for a day tomorrow. I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

He quickly ended the call and face planted on his bed. This was going to be a long mission. One week in and he was already exhausted. He wasn’t lying when he said he was close to finishing the mission he was originally sent to Paris for, though. He had infiltrated the goons quickly and efficiently, and managed to hear about a drug shipment due to arrive in a couple weeks together with a human one. As soon as he got the information as to where he’d call his family and they could resolve the problem easily. For now though, he couldn’t help but want to keep them away a bit longer. Be it because, even though he loved his brothers (not that he’d ever tell them), he wanted some time alone, or be it because he wanted more time to try and figure out Ladybug, he still wasn’t completely sure.

If you asked him, he would deny it to his dying breath that he was interested in the heroine, but something about her made him want to get closer and know more about her. In spite of the great amount of knowledge the public had on her, she was surrounded by an aura of mystery and something else that Jason couldn’t pinpoint, which had him turning in his sleep ever since that encounter in the alley. It also didn’t help that she seemed to be around the same age as him, her suit doing her great favours in all her red and black. Alright. Maybe he thought she was a bit attractive. Very attractive?

“No. Nope. Not going there.” He got up and decided to ignore that part of his brain as of now. For no particular reason whatsoever. It was only normal to want to know more about the person protecting the city. Call it a professional interest, thank you very much.

The dark haired man decided to take advantage of having an expensive suite for once and took a long bath while doing some more research on Paris. He was indeed planning to walk around the city the next day after all. When he was done, Jason headed to the bed and fell asleep promptly. Dreams full of back alleys and superheroes.

As luck would have it, it didn’t take long for the both of them to meet yet again. Only maybe not in the way the Gotham vigilante would have hoped for. Set on at least enjoying this pseudo-vacation he was gifted, Jason left his hotel the next morning to visit the most popular places in the city. The Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the Arc of Triumph and the Champs Élysées were the places he had chosen to visit during the morning and early afternoon, but, even though his main goal was to distract himself from the tasks at hand, he couldn’t will away the questions roaming around his head.

How was he going to contact Ladybug? He wanted to do it as Red Hood, but he didn’t want the heroine of Paris to distrust him since he was pretty sure his reputation would precede him. He was known for being the most ruthless of the batfam, the only thing keeping him from killing criminals once he was done with them was Batman’s No killing under any kind of circumstances rule (which if you asked him was a special kind of bullshit, some of them did deserve to rot in hell in his opinion), and he wasn’t sure if Ladybug would be as willing to hear him out as she may one of his brothers or father. However, his only other option would be to approach her as Jason Todd, one of Bruce Wayne’s adopted sons. He didn’t even know whether Ladybug would care about his family name. This wasn’t his city. And on the off chance that she might have recognized him… He was still a mere civilian. One that had, on top of that, to explain his connection to the Gotham vigilantes without giving away any of their identities. Jason knew his hands were tied. Red Hood had to be the one to try and get the attention of the spotted hero. Knowing there was no other option didn't make him happy about it though.

Once he was done with this line of thinking his brain decided to go back to the Penguin. He was trying to instill one of the worst types of businesses in Paris and he couldn’t wait to put a stop to it. As much as he knew drug trafficking to be terrible, he was of the opinion that people who engaged in (as well as profited off of) human trafficking should have a special circle of hell destined for them. Preferably in the very depths of it.

Jason was very much aware that, for as long as he remained in this city, negative emotions had to be controlled and dissipated as quickly as possible to avoid an akumatization. Especially those of someone with the skills and knowledge he had. He had a lot of the latter in strange topics, most of which he acquired growing up during his training. And albeit he wasn’t sure whether it would actually be useful to Hawkmoth or not, he would rather not put it to the test. All of this, however, was sent to the back burner for a second as Jason's thoughts strayed towards what he would like to do to the Gotham villain when he captured him.

Being so busy imagining the 30 different methods of torture he would like to inflict upon the Penguin had made him completely disregarded his surroundings, however. Coming back to his senses, his brain pointed out they were standing at the door of what seemed like a very nice patisserie, just in time for his stomach to growl, his lunch seemingly having been digested some time ago.

‘Maybe something sweet is exactly what I need right now’

Some days had passed since Marinette met Jason, and though he was still burning in the back of her mind, she had way too many things to worry about during the day to remember him often. At night, however, the questions she had originally asked herself the first night continued to plague her, and since Tikki told her not to worry about it too much, the designer saw wise to keep her train of thought to herself. She wasn’t even sure why her brain seemed so fixed on this stranger she had only met once. Sure, he was involved in a fight, and seemed to be a foreigner, but it wasn’t that uncommon for petty altercations to break out around the city while she patrolled. Also this was Paris, for Kwamis’ sake. One of the biggest tourist capitals of the world. There was no reason why this Jason guy should’ve stuck to her mind as he did. Yet here she was. In the middle of her afternoon shift at the bakery. Still thinking about him.

A chime coming from the door brought her out of her stupor. But as she looked up, ready to greet the new customer, she suddenly froze, and her brain could only supply her with the word green.

Green eyes she had only got a quick glance into a week ago were now in front of her and the color was even more intense as they reflected the sunlight rays that entered through the bakery’s windows.

There you have it peeps and pals! I'll try to update sometime again this week in between Daminette December.

Tag list:

@18-fandoms-unite-08 @bamagirl513 @j-a-n-e--d-o-e @dawnwave16

#jasonette #jason x marinette #maribat #of casual encounters and late nights #miraculous ladybug #part 2 #liswrites #ml x dc #marinette dupain cheng #marinette dupain-cheng #jason todd

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crystalgirl259 · 4 years

Text

The Flame and the Dragon Ch5

Chapter 5: The Kitchen Catastrophe

Bansha remained silent as Morro ranted and raved in the privacy of the carriage. He had lost whatever grip he had on his temper as soon as the carriage started taking them back home. Morro looked ready to kill somebody, most likely Lloyd.

"That insolent little brat! How dare he insult me!"

"Lloyd or Kai?" Bansha spoke out of turn, something she instantly regretted when Morro's scowl turned on her.

"Lloyd, of course! If it wasn't for that little brat or their ugly sister, I'm sure Kai would be mine by now! Doesn't he realize those two are the ones who are holding him back?! I could give him anything and yet he still refused me!" He ranted, clenching his fists in rage. "I mean, how naïve can he be? What must I do to persuade him to pop the question?" He scowled critically. Bansha could only shake her head. Morro was without a doubt a prodigy, but he lacked the most obvious common sense.

Kai was a dreamer, it didn't matter how rich Morro was or what society deemed appropriate.

He wouldn't chase Morro like everyone else. No, he was chasing the foolish dream of finding true love. A frivolous illusion of course, but nevertheless Kai believed it. Bansha had no doubt Morro would never have his 'precious darling' unless he convinced him to love him. Something she knew would never happen. She knew Morro well enough. The duke always got what he wanted.

"Why are you so obsessed with him?" Bansha spoke aloud and Morro's attention turned to her. Bansha hadn't meant to speak out loud but Morro could tell she was only curious. "I mean, you could have anyone you wanted, yes, Kai's beautiful, but personality-wise, he's the complete opposite of the man you want; why do you keep chasing him when you could have people so much more charming, obedient, and wealthy! You're the Duke! You're wealthy, well-educated, people throw themselves at your feet every day! You could replace Kai in an instant! Why do you waste your time with him when you could have anyone else?"

Morro chuckled darkly, a crackling sound that would make even the bravest of hearts shiver in fear.

"You've just answered your own question, Bansha." He smirked. Everything she said was true of course. Kai's appearance was in every inch the way a fairy tale prince was supposed to look, but it was his personality that needed work. Kai was perfect, but he was too brazen, too wild. He needed to be tamed, and he was the only one to do that. After all, as a Duke, he needed not only the perfect partner but also someone who would never challenge his authority.

In business or in bed.

"Because I can have anyone else."...

****************

The enormous landscape surrounding the Smith home was a sight to behold. A wide golden field and stables with a large pond in the corner bordered on two sides by woods and a house large enough for a large family flew by, unnoticed by its two youngest occupants as both Kai and Lloyd bolted across the yard and up the stairs to their house. Both ran surprisingly fast for all the bags they were carrying. Then again, it was Nya who was in the kitchen.

That alone was cause for alarm.

Both practically broke the door down, causing more smoke to erupt from the house. Lloyd batted the inky wisps away and coughed harshly before Kai found him something to cover his mouth with.

"NYA!" Kai howled, furiously, before stomping towards the kitchen, with Lloyd behind him. "GOD HELP YOU IF YOU'RE IN THE FUCKING KITCHEN!" He warned as both brothers dropped the books and groceries on the dining room table and stormed inside. The kitchen was still intact, but the smoke was everywhere, pouring out the open windows now that it had an escape. Huge spots of soot and ash covered the floor, the counters, and the stove which was wheezing smoke.

The wood from the old-fashioned brick stove had burned itself out leaving only ashes.

The bowl on top of it was covered in ash and looked even more charred than the inside of the hearth. Nya, the younger twin, was on the floor, coughing and wheezing, covered from head to toe in thick soot. Her midnight black hair tied in a ponytail was the only thing dark than the soot as her stunning blue eyes seemed to light up her face. Her tanned skin was revealed through the ripped jeans. When she stood to her full height in an attempt to brush the ashes off her, she stood a few inches shorter than Kai.

She also had a small beauty mark on her right cheek.

Even in her ripped, paint-splattered jeans and the light blue shirt she wore when she painted or invented and hiking boots caked in oil, paint, and covered in soot, Nya looked ravishing.

"Nya," Kai said dangerously low with a clearly angry smirk on his face as he glared down at Nya on the floor. "When Dad said you were never allowed in the kitchen again, what made you think he was joking?"

"You two were late." She replied, crossing her arms and trying to look as casual as possible.

"We're always late! That doesn't mean you have the right to try and burn down the kitchen! AGAIN!" Lloyd scolded. "What did you do this time? Forget to take the plastic off?" He asked and Nya's eyes widened guiltily, assuring them both that was exactly what she did. Despite being an excellent painter and even better inventor, Nya wasn't so good in the kitchen. That's why cooking the family meals was Kai's job. The eldest Smith sighed and smacked his forehead.

"Nya, you can't cook to save your life!"

"Doesn't mean I can't try!" She smirked, rubbing the soot off her cheeks. "At least I didn't burn anything." She mumbled. Both brothers glared at her referring to the black soot covering the kitchen. "You know what I mean." She snorted, ego deflated a bit. "What took you so long anyway?"

"We stopped at the bookstore, and Dr. Saunders found Kai's writing."

"That's it?" Nya raised a cool eyebrow in disbelief. She knew full well that her brothers could live at the library if given the choice but even they always came home on time.

"We ran into Morro on the way back," Kai growled.

"That explains it." She rolled her eyes. "What did he want this time?"

"Same old shit he wants every time," Kai replied, tossing a bag into Nya's lap, which she hesitantly caught in her surprise. "Help us put the food away otherwise no one's eating until breakfast." He ordered. Nya was on his feet in an instant, her stomach winning over her pride.

"You should've seen his face when he thought Lloyd insulted his!" Kai chuckled, making their little brother blush. Nya only blinked in surprise before grinning.

"Well hopefully after next week, you won't have to deal with him anymore."

"You finished your invention!" Both boys asked with hopefulness. Nya smirked and grabbed both their wrists before pulling them out of the kitchen and upstairs, where their bedrooms were located, as well as the room she and their parents used as a workshop. Kai sometimes painted something if he was bored, but he hasn't done it in a while. Nya threw the door open, revealing the wooden floor covered by paint-splattered sheets and blotches of paint-decorated walls.

The wall opposite the door was made entirely of glass, like a giant window allowing air and sunlight inside.

Blank canvases and stacks of papers and scrolls lined the opposite wall while easels with trays of oil paints, watercolors and charcoals cups filled with pencils, pens, and brushes of various, shape, size, texture, and design covered the table by the sink where water cans and jars held paint-caked brushes. In the corner sat her newest invention, while a tray of oil paints in various colors rested on the table next to it. The machine itself took Kai and Lloyd's breath away.

It is a wooden machine containing various types of gadgetry, including an ax.

This machine was intended to be used to chop wood, supposedly making it easier than chopping with an ordinary ax.

"Wow!" Kai gasped.

"It's amazing, big sis!" Lloyd hugged her. "Now I know you're going to win this year!"

"Let's hope so." She beamed as she wrapped her arms around her two brothers and pulling them both close in a hug. "Then maybe we can get out of here."

"Finally!" Kai cheered.

"Now, I'm gonna get changed." She released her siblings before strolling down the hallway to her room. "Unless of course, you want me to help you clean the kitchen and-"

"NO!" They both said with such force she was taken aback. Nya meant it as a joke but it seemed neither Kai nor Lloyd were taking the chance.

"Oh and since Lloyd will probably be too busy cleaning the kitchen you'll just have to suffer pasta with my sauce," Kai warned teasingly, following Lloyd downstairs, smirking when he saw Nya cringe. Kai's sauce was incredibly hot and spicy. It hadn't taken too long to clean the kitchen, since Nya had only caused smoke and soot to cover the house and fortunately hadn't really burned anything. Still, it took at least an hour to clean the kitchen and make dinner.

Those were two things Nya was not allowed to help with since all her elegance and grace with creating and movement seemed to cease the second she entered the kitchen.

Once they finished, the trio spent the rest of the night the way they always did. Closing up shop and enjoying the night until Lloyd finally fell asleep, resulting in Nya carrying him upstairs and putting him to bed. Nya could only smile at the adorable sight.

"What?"

"Nothing." She shrugged her shoulders, still smiling. "Just wondering what you're still doing here?"

"What does that mean?" He asked confused, before turning back to Lloyd's sleeping form.

"I don't mean, here as in with the family, I meant here in general." She explained, sitting down next to her brothers.

"Let's face it, I don't fit in here." He groaned. "I mean, no one here gets me, and I have no one to talk to except you, Lloyd, and the librarian; and if you say Morro I swear to God I'll scream!" He threatened her and Nya burst out laughing.

"I wasn't going to, but remind me again why you don't like him?" She teased and Kai snorted.

"He's not my type."

"Poor Morro, maybe if he'd stayed the same, he might have a chance."

"I doubt it; honestly, I just don't wanna get married, I wanna be in love when I get married, not just settle down for the sake of it, or give myself up for money; I wanna travel and write and make my own happiness before I start looking for someone to share my happiness with." He explained. "Morro doesn't care about me, he just doesn't understand me! I want someone who loves me for me, and who can show me they love me like even without saying the words, I'll know they love me."

"Sounds cheesy," Nya replied with a teasing smile, before placing her hands on his shoulders. "Lloyd's right, you are a hopeful romantic." She giggled. Kai blushed before playfully punching Nya's arm. She just laughed before smiling sadly. "But seriously, Kai, that's a pretty amazing thought." She promised and Kai blinked at Nya's sudden change of tone. They sat in silence for a little while before Kai took a deep breath to settled his nerves.

"Nya? Do you think I'm odd?" He reluctantly asked, scared of the answer. His sister froze and looked at the brunette as if he'd suddenly grown an extra head.

"Is this because of what those idiots in town keep saying?" She asked angrily and Kai looked up to meet her saddened eyes.

"It's not that," He replied looking away. "It's just... I don't know, I obviously don't fit in, but sometimes I wish I did; then maybe I could find someone who actually understands me aside from you and Lloyd." He added and suddenly found himself wrapped in a warm hug by Nya before he was released. Nya's gaze rested on him with a look of firm affection.

"Kai, you're an artist like Mom and me, just with words, that means you see the world in ways other people can't or simply don't understand and it's your gift, to see the beauty and the horror in ordinary things, it doesn't make you odd, or strange, despite what the idiots in this town seem to think, just different, and there's nothing wrong with being different." She explained like it was a fact that needed to be memorized. Kai wasn't sure whether to smile or laugh at his silliness so he did both.

"Thanks, sis."

"Anytime," Nya laughed and got up before kissing Kai's forehead and then Lloyd's before turning to leave the room. "Night, big bro." She smiled and winked. "And remember, Lloyd and I are leaving tomorrow so we gotta get up early."

"I remember." He smiled, before getting up and retiring to his own room for the night...

#The Flame and the Dragon #ninjago #ninjago zane #ninjago cole #ninjago kai #ninjago lloyd #ninjago jay #ninjago nya #lavashipping

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deniigi · 5 years

Note

I had a really bad day (I wont say why because I wouldnt want you to feel like I'm guilting you into anything) and I was wondering if maybe you had a dfv/lfv or inimitable verse drabble you havent put up or one on here you really like you could point me to (navigation is hard on mobile) or even just some like hcs. If not its totally ok! You dont owe me anything. But I thought I'd ask and see if that's ok.

Oh no!

Sorry that you had a rough day my dear. I don’t have much in the works for those verses right now (I’ve been hammering my head against a wall, trying to write out a piece exploring Gwen and Murderdock’s relationship–it’s not working tho, so I’m stopping). Of course any of the Clint-based pieces are fun in those verses if you need a pick me up, but I am equally fond of Chapter 13 of Sidebars.

But! If you don’t mind a little piece from Lying by Omission/The Sprawl I’ve got cute little bit of Jack and Ben going out to dinner with Matt and Peter?

I’ll put it under the cut if you’re down

—-

“Dad, let’s go out to eat.”

Jack didn’t trust that. Jack had been scarred by the durian. Permanently scarred. He was never coming back from the durian. He was etching a durian with a big ‘X’ through it into the top of his next coffin for future archaeologists to find and have absolutely no questions about.

Matt, sensing that he was presently not receiving the amount of attention that he could be receiving, oozed out of the kitchen and draped himself over the back of the couch, right behind Jack’s shoulders. Jack glanced to the side and noted that he was wearing shoes.

He wasn’t chancing it.

“No shoes on the couch,” he said.

“It’s my couch,” Matt hummed, already migrating over to the couch’s arm, no doubt to burrow his way under Jack’s own arm.

“It’s a couch.”

“My couch,” Matt hummed, plucking Jack’s phone out of his hand and tossing it callously to the other side of said couch. He then executed the burrow and wriggled himself over so that he was the sole occupant of Jack’s lap. He waited, as sweet as could be, until he had Jack’s more or less undivided attention.

The kid was heavy. Jack couldn’t tell if he knew just how heavy he was.

He suspected that he was more than aware of it.

Matt beamed at him. He did not pull his shoed feet over the couch’s arm.

A sign of obedience. Or perhaps a buttering-up technique.

Tricky, tricky.

“Why do we need to go out to eat? What’s wrong with what’s in the fridge?” Jack asked Matt’s untrustworthy grin.

It faded a little because there was a pout which needed doing.

“I’m tired of eating potatoes,” Matt huffed.

“Take it back,” Jack scolded him. “I won’t hear any raggin’ on tatties in this household.”

“I want rice.”

“I’ll make you rice, Matty.”

“I don’t want your rice.”

Picky little shit. Just like his mother. She’d been the type to refuse a peanut butter and jelly sandwich if the slop wasn’t equally distributed.

Jack’s rice was perfectly fine. It even had bits of onion in it. If he was feeling real fancy, he might even cook it in broth or something.

“Fine, so make rice yourself,” he said. Matt squirmed up and wrapped arms around Jack’s neck. He put his cheek against it and immediately made the skin there it itch.

“You need a shave,” Jack huffed, reaching back for his phone. Vanessa was doing battle with her replacement: Bella the cat. She was giving their zombie group the play by play of the her and the cat’s opposing campaigns to win Wade’s favor. Thus far, Bella had broken a plate and gotten scratchies and kisses for it. Vanessa was outraged.

It was an outrage to behold.

“Daddy.”

Not this again. This was no reason to bring out the big guns.

“Get your shoes,” Matt whined.

“Baby, you can go out. I’m not stopping you from going out. No one is stopping you from going out, god help us,” Jack told him.

Matt abandoned his neck, stretched out, quick as a whip, and snatched the phone on the other cushion. He crammed it into his shirt and then replaced himself and his face-broom against Jack’s pulse point.

Yeah.

Yeah, Jack didn’t know what he’d expected to happen here.

“Matt,” he warned.

“Dinner.”

“The last time we went to dinner, you broke my heart, soul, and trust.”

“I won’t do it again.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah, right. ”

“I won’t,” Matt promised, pulling back to add puppy eyes to the mix.

That was unfair. Uncalled for. Totally underhanded.

“Why don’t you go out with Foggy?” Jack tried as a last-ditch effort.

“Because I want to go out with you,” Matt emphasized. “My pops. My old man. We gotta bond. It’ll make me more well-adjusted. The internet says so.”

Jack was confiscating the internet. The internet was a know-it-all snitch.

“DAD.”

“Fine, for fuck’s sake, boy. Get off, you’re drowning me here.”

Jack would go out to dinner on one condition.

Two conditions actually.

1) There was to be no durian. Anywhere. At all.

2) He got to bring moral support.

Matt was more than cool with that because it meant that he could replace the durian with another creative element which would equally torture Jack.

So Jack asked Ben Parker to come along. Parker was sharp as a tack. Compared to Jack, he was a man of the world. A reasonable and sensitive body with respect for his fellow humans. He promised to help Jack identify potential threats to his person flung his way by his uncaring and mischievous son.

Unfortunately, to that end, Matt insisted that they take Ben’s nephew, Peter, out with them too.

Jack knew from the start that this was Matt inserting his chaos element into what might otherwise be a perfectly tolerable and uneventful night out. But he also held out hope that Peter would be the sweet, kind-hearted boy he appeared to be.

It really was too much to ask for.

Peter latched his whole body onto Matt within seconds of their two parties meeting up and the two of them immediately set to whispering which bode poorly for everyone else involved.

“I believe we may have made a mistake,” Ben observed, rubbing thoughtfully at his chin.

Matt wanted rice and Peter wanted something sour enough to leave ulcers in his mouth, so the two of them decided that Thai food would achieve both of these effects. Jack was suspicious. Ben told him that Thai food was very tasty and he had little reason to fear, except.

Except.

“Peter hates durian, it’s fine, he won’t be setting up any conspiracies around it,” Ben promised him.

Mm.

They’d see about that.

Foggy had said something similar when he and Matt had dragged Jack out for Filipino food.

Jack was pretty sure that Peter just wanted a lime. He was 90% sure that all Peter’s cravings could be satisfied with a lime right now.

Matt, however, in an unlikely turn of events, convinced him that he should get food-substances to accompany his burning desire for limes. Peter grumbled at this and deferred to his uncle for support in the face of this logic.

Chaos element, located.

“Pick a carb,” Ben directed.

“Sugar is a carb,” Peter argued.

“Pick a carb in a less refined form,” Ben countered easily.

“If it’s raw sugar, it—”

“Veg, noodles, or rice,” Ben offered him.

Peter scowled.

“You said a carb,” he pouted. “I want sugar.”

“I have good news for you, sweet child of mine,” Ben said fondly. “There is sugar in everything served in the United States of America. You will have your sugar. Pick its structure: veg, noodles, or rice.”

Ben made Jack feel like a shit dad sometimes. Although, to be fair, Jack hadn’t been a dad as long as Ben had.

Peter, outwitted and bitter about it, agitated Matt to help him.

Matt saw no need for that.

“You’re gonna be hungry in an hour and then you’re gonna whine about it,” he declared.

Peter scowled at him and then turned his lethal puppy eyes onto Jack. Jack set up a menu between the two of them because he was not strong enough to cope with that.

Peter whined behind it.

Things were going too smoothly for too long. Jack did not trust the decent behavior happening at this table. Ben got a kick out of his paranoia, which was great because someone needed to.

“What are you hiding?” Jack asked Matt. Matt scoffed.

“Chill, old man,” he said. “We’re literally just having dinner. Maybe try to have a good time, huh?”

No.

Something evil was afoot.

Peter snickered. Matt swatted at him; he easily dodged the hand.

Trouble.

Dinner was eaten and paid for and Jack eventually gave up and settled down. Begrudgingly, he had to admit that Matt was right. Thai food was nice. No incidents had occurred. There was no durian. Ben and Peter made for good conversation, even if everything led back to Peter’s obsession with sci-fi films.

Ben told him that if he kept mentioning them, the aliens would hear him and his name would start to move up higher up on their list of potential captures.

The kid was horrified.

Matt helpfully started counting off the number of times Peter had mentioned aliens in the last week and Peter had briefly looked like he was going to cry.

“Is your wife not going to hear of this?” Jack asked Ben as they walked after the trouble duo who had determined that they were finding dessert at a different location. They seemed to know what they were after, so Jack and Ben left them to it.

“Oh, she will,” Ben said.

“And you don’t mind?”

“She encourages it. She’s convinced him that if you leave a tv on static, aliens can pick up on your watch history.”

Interesting parenting techniques going on here.

Ben laughed.

“Well, I guess we just figure that if you’ve got a weird kid, it’s easier on everyone if you just lean into it. My brother probably wouldn’t be so down with it, but he’s not here, so whatever.”

Ah, right.

“Peter’s your brother’s son, then,” Jack noted.

Ben hummed.

“I…guess,” he said uneasily. “I—it’s hard to explain. I mean, biologically, yeah he’s Rich’s son. But, you know, me and May’ve raised him for longer than Rich and Mary were ever in his life, so, I dunno. Is it fucked up that I kind of think of him as my son?”

No. Not at all.

“My eldest brother pretty much raised me,” Jack told him. “My mama couldn’t be assed to do anything more than scream at the drop of a hat and my daddy was busy drinking himself to death, so Bill was the one who got me up and dressed and off to school in the morning. I always thought of him as a mix between a brother and a mom.”

“No shit?” Ben said. “Where is he? He still around?”

Uuuuuuuh.

“We haven’t talked for a long time,” Jack said.

“Oh? Well, now’s your chance you know.”

Jack tried not to wince too sharply. Ben caught it anyways.

“Or not,” he said. “You don’t have to if its painful or something.”

Oh, buddy.

“We’ll see,” Jack decided. “I’ll need to think about it.”

He didn’t know how Matt would react. Hell, he didn’t know how he would react to seeing Bill again.

Matt and Peter presented Jack with a drink that had evil hiding in the bottom of it.

He should have known better to think he’d escape that night uninjured.

–

I hope this cheers you up my dear and that things get easier for you soon!

#fic #jack murdock #matt murdock #ben parker #I need to do smth for the sprawl for real #ficlet

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halorocks1214 · 5 years

Text

the law of attraction

AO3 Link

Word Count: 5464

Summary: The Law of Attraction demonstrates how we create the things, events, and people that come into our lives. Our thoughts, feelings, words, and actions produce energies which, in turn, attract like energies. Negative energies attract negative energies and positive energies attract positive energies

Previous Parts (in order): Alan | You are here!

holy shit i need to stop telling myself to keep my fics short cuz thats what always makes them three times longer than i originally planned. anYWAYS, i know the point of fabfivefeb is kinda to focus on one bro a week specifically, buuuut my brain grabbed my face, yelled an idea into it and now this is going to be a full series i guess. i hope this still counts! also, just as a warning, the first few fics are going to be chronologically out of order-- gordons pov fic, aka this one, comes like, almost last in the line of fics i have planned-- but im hoping that just adds to the aesthetic im giving this series

thanks again to @gumnut-logic for the wonderful prompt ideas. i used “How did you do that?” and iridescent

--------

If you asked just-turned-10-years-old Gordon what he thought of his kid brother, you would probably be horrified at the things he could and did say.

Nowadays the 22-year-old felt bad about it-- like, exponentially so-- but back then he couldn’t help it. It was a Tracy rite-of-passage to not want a younger sibling when they came-- yes, even Scott, who Gordon secretly believed it was his fault for John being so nerdy. You should have wanted a nice pair of tennis shoes in his place, Scotty, not a chemistry kit.

Gordon, for all intents purposes, managed to be the worst-case out of four. Virgil wondered if his fiery temper rubbed off on Alan growing up, and the more Gordon caught wind of how Alan could be when angry, the more Gordon thought his immediate older brother was right.

Regardless, everyone in the family managed to at least get the OG Tracy baby to play nice when Alan was born. Gordon’s involvement could be described as nothing: he never did anything to actively harm Alan (he was raised better than that, c’mon), but whenever Gordon could get away from the tiny tot, he did. A couple of years went by, the world adjusted to five Tracy sons, and so did the Tracy family. Even Gordon was starting to see the merit in being an older brother.

Then, tragedy struck.

The avalanche that ripped apart their entire world came crashing down in more ways than one. Hoo boy, the tabloids had a field day with it. They always wanted to know every little detail, and when the family refused to give them anything, they came up with their own stories. The only details they got were from cheating, as a nosy reporter managed to grab a picture of 3-year-old Alan fighting for his life in the hospital, and the internet ran with it.

It was very quickly found out that their mother had died in the disaster as well, and along with the little snake’s photo of Alan, accusations were thrown around as if they were nothing more than plush baseballs, not full-blown knives digging into the Tracy men’s skin. Where was Jeff Tracy? Did he leave his wife and youngest to perish without a thought? The man did have four older sons, maybe he considered them to be more valuable? The last child wasn’t a planned addition in the first place, so it wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to assume so!

What they would never know, Gordon thought bitterly and spitefully, was how Alan wasn’t the only Tracy kid that played in the snow that day. Alan easily got sick as a child for undetermined reasons, and lo and behold, the tiny blonde started running a low-grade fever during their vacation. Lucy offered to stay with Alan at the cabin while Jeff went to find an on-sight doctor. Virgil, who was starting to get into that kind of stuff, went with him.

John saw… something in the gift shop he wanted to grab (none of the brothers could really tell you that much about that day anymore), and since it was relatively close to where Jeff needed to ask for a doctor, the parents felt it would be okay for the red-head to explore the shop by himself, especially since John was easily the most well-behaved out of the children. Gordon was going to go with them to-- what did you expect-- get away from Alan. That’s when smother-hen-in-the-making Scott suggested Gordon stay back with Alan so he could get to know the baby of the family more.

The only reason Gordon agreed to stay was that Scott was staying as well. Gordon hadn’t had that much time recently to hang out with his oldest bro, so he thought it was worth dealing with the little tyke in the room as well. Besides, mom was there too. She could watch him.

Gordon couldn’t for the life of him remember who was where when the literal tons of snow came to say hi. They all got knocked out relatively quick, but from Dad’s recollection of Scott’s eye-witness account, Scott and mom woke up at some point. Scott then went on to carry his youngest siblings out and away from the danger zone, only to re-pass out a good distance away from the buried cabin.

There were many details left out by Scott, and even more were left out by their father, who wanted to give his eldest some sense of security despite all the chaos. Gordon would only learn a little bit more (and by golly was it enough) when he was 16 and grounded by Scott himself. We know Dad is gone! Stop trying to replace him! Gordon shamefully admits that he was purposefully trying back then to be as difficult as possible. Sure, it was due to grief over losing their last living parent, but that didn’t mean he had to take out his rage like he was less than half his age.

People always credited Alan as being the angry baby, but Gordon could be a right bastard when he wanted.

Virgil shut up him right up with a tiny admission that Gordon would never let Scott know he knew. It was the least the swimmer could do after everything their oldest brother gave up.

“You know he promised her, right?”

Teenaged Gordon hissed as Virgil readjusted his piggyback, jostling Gordon’s broken leg in the process. Sneaking out didn’t really seem all that thrilling anymore. He still managed to squeak out through gritted teeth, “W-What?”

Virgil kept his face straight, a weird kind of stoic covering all of his emotions burning within, “Scott promised mom he would keep you two safe. It was the only thing he could do for her.”

That gut-punch didn’t help Gordon’s bruised ribs, and Virgil should have just broken his leg more next. Would have been a nicer follow up than the metaphorical groin kick Gordon received.

“Dad wondered if she was even aware-- or maybe even alive-- enough to hear him.”

Gordon had a lot of time in the hospital to think about those words, even more so when he watched his brunette brother sleep by his bedside. 22-year-old Scott should have been furious, should have ripped him a new one for being such a prick, but the only thing Gordon witnessed him do that night was run into the room as soon as he got the news that Gordon was okay and gently collapse onto his younger brother to collect the blonde into his arms while he tried desperately not to break down-- tried to be strong. Gordon was so caught off guard that he could only wrap his arms back around Scott in a weak attempt to reassure the new head of the Tracy Clan.

Later in the week when Gordon wasn’t so dead on his feet, Scott finally found the reprimand he wanted to give and tore into Gordon. Of course, Gordon snapped back too. They had the typical ‘What were you thinking?!’ ‘I wanted to have fun!’ kind of argument, but it was… softer, in a way, especially on Gordon’s part.

During that same night, after the argument, Gordon would hear 10-year-old Alan sneak into his room with a box full of familiar lights, abruptly reminding Gordon of a feeling he felt a long time ago, back during the ‘recovery’ part of the aftermath of the avalanche. One he couldn’t entirely explain until right then, thanks to Scott’s reactions throughout that entire week.

See, Scott’s plan of Gordon getting along with Alan backfired pretty horribly as Gordon, in all of his trauma and denial, managed to loop his tiny mind around into thinking Alan was at least partially responsible. If he wasn’t sick… if he wasn’t there… if he hadn’t been born--

Yeah, he was 8 at the time, but Gordon still feels sick for even coming up with that thought way back when.

Well, what’s done is done, and for the majority of the first two years, after their wonderful mom left the Earth, Gordon could only describe it like a daze of sorts. Dad was drowning himself in his work, Scott had seen horrors not even adults should’ve had to have seen, Gordon was stuck in the nice world of childhood depression, Virgil and John were caught in the middle like they always were and sometimes still are, and Alan? They really weren’t sure what he was going through due to one simple problem.

Because that was the joke of the day, the ironic twist so to speak. Believe it or not, Alan tended to be a quiet kid.

Many who knew their family would retort with yeah, anyone is quiet standing next to you, Gordon! or they would at least point out the constant babbling that tended to come from the youngest Tracy in the first place. First, Gordon would snort and admit, okay, that’s fair, and then explain how Alan was quiet when it really mattered.

And how it sucked.

The kid could go on and on about what video game he played recently or how stupid his homework was, but when you got down to it you couldn’t get Alan to talk enough.

Back when Alan still did school on the mainland, his older brothers didn’t even know he was being bullied until the bruises started showing up on parts that weren’t covered by clothes (the ones that were, though, damn). It didn’t even occur to the older brothers that Alan was getting more and more quiet each day. After getting the perpetrators expelled and rightfully ripped a new one, Scott and John asked Alan why on earth he didn’t tell them. He just shrugged his tiny kid shoulders and said, “It didn’t seem like that big of a deal.”

Virgil’s 18th birthday was a night to remember, not just because it was a blast, but because they spent half the night in the waiting room at the hospital. They were hanging out in the cities, which was probably already a bad idea. In the first half of the day, the five of them had to cross a crosswalk. Simple enough, right? However, with the torrent of adults much larger than him, 12-year-old Alan lost his grip on John’s hand and toppled over with his arm out in front of him, leaving the limb out on a silver platter to be squashed by a rather large boot.

The man that did it felt really bad, actually, which was a breath of fresh air. He insisted that he would pay for any medical bills that came from the accident. The only reason they never went to any medical facility (immediately, at least) was that, after calming down, Alan insisted his arm felt fine. His reaction time in his fingers was still okay as well, so they left it alone. The four of them probably should have questioned why Alan was so quiet for the rest of the party, but they were too into the euphoria of Virgil’s big day to realize so. A little bit more into the celebration and Alan went missing. It was a miracle that they got Scott to not run off to the nearest police officer immediately. In hindsight, they probably should have, but panic makes the mind go woo woo.

After an hour of searching, they found Alan silently crying his eyes out in a corner. Gordon suspected Virgil never really got over the guilt. None of them have, probably. They really should have insisted they got it checked out right away. Sure, the reason they mainly assumed it was okay was that they’ve been hit with worse and only walked away with bruises-- John walked home from school one day with dirt and mud in his hair, scrapes littering his arms, and when asked what happened the ginger silently commented, “I got hit by a car,” as if it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Not only did Jeff feel the number of years dwindle until his inevitable heart attack, but he also got to watch his eldest gain his first grey hairs with many more to come.

While getting a piggyback from yours truly, John calmly asked Alan why he didn’t say anything (again). The youngest just shrugged and buried his face into Gordon’s neck, “I didn’t want to be a problem. It’s Virge’s day…”

It would be a reoccurring problem for Alan to be hush-hush about physical and emotional strains put on him for years to come. It wasn’t a big problem out on the field (yet), but they were always extra sure to drill into the freckled boy if it seemed like he wasn’t talking as much as he usually did. They were pretty sure it came from the fact that Alan was originally, well, not planned, as all those wonderful journalists pointed out.

They never actively kept it a secret. The age gaps, as well as the press, made it real hard to do so in the first place. Plus, keeping things like that a secret did more damage than not. But the idea was there, and the idea of being a ‘burden’ on anyone was a damaging thought that always seemed to ring in the back of Alan’s subconscious, so he made sure to only speak when he felt he absolutely could or if it wasn’t too much of a task he was asking of them (which they all hated, Scott especially).

The rest of them hoped to pick up what Lucy left behind, which was her efforts to make her newest son feel wanted and loved despite not being apart of the original quota. Gordon worried his older brothers felt a little too guilty about not being able to fully wash it away. It was part of the reason they let him act a little bit childishly on missions: if he feels comfortable enough to do so, then they can’t take it away from him out of fear that they’ll never get it back. It was also why he was just so excited to go on a mission: he could prove himself to be just as good as his older brothers.

Speaking of their mother (man, Gordon loved to ramble tonight, didn’t he), the whole reason any of this was a thing in the first place was Alan’s reaction to the avalanche. That’s when his whole ‘silent act’ issue became apparent. Because the kid became quiet. Period. He stopped talking for two years. Young Gordon wouldn’t even realize this until Virgil started to teach him ASL in their free time. Alan was still an energetic kid, he just… could not get his voice box to work.

The doctors insisted there was no physical damage, either, so they just had to wait and learn ways around it.

Gordon just could not wrap his young, tiny mind around why his loud and obnoxious and annoying younger bro just shut up. Intrigued at the idea of Alan actually being quiet, Gordon started to hang out with him more, especially since Gordon craved the general sense of peace during that time in his life. Yep, crazy, energy-lover Gordon needed the space to just sit and think, and where better than to rant about how crappy life was then at your great-listener-because-he-didn’t-want-to-talk brother.

As time went on in the second half of those two years, the youngest two grew close. Closer than any of the older brothers thought possible. Scott thinks they created their own hand language just for themselves during that time. Gordon was slowly becoming more and more himself, and Alan, well, still didn’t talk, but his energetic-ness was getting bigger and bigger each passing day. Unfortunately, so did their eagerness to be the biggest piece of shits in the world.

Baby Alan stumbled across a can of whip cream that the family forgot to put away. Toddling over to Gordon, the little one shook the can around as a way to say, ‘What could we do with this?’

Gordon’s first idea was to put a huge, glopping pile right on Scott’s pillow where his head directly laid. The sputtering and anger Scott responded with, as well as Virgil’s and John’s snickers at the whole thing, filled Gordon’s head with a million ways to continue his meticulous schemes. Alan got roped in the second the general idea of being able to make his family happy came to fruition.

April 16th was the day The Terrible Two officially started. Virgil was pretty sure he saw John’s calendar with this day marked specifically as a way to remind him not to come down. Virgil just wished he could ask his immediate older brother to let him up on ‘Five that day too.

Their pranks became more and more intense as they came up with each new one, and on the anniversary of their mother’s passing, they disappeared the entire morning. Due to grief, and the fact none of the remaining three sons wanted to deal with tar and feathers or their coffee mug shocking them again, they didn’t think too much of it. Honestly, after the last prank of filling their pillows with jello, they found the quietness to be a blessing. Then the sun started to set without the two of them home yet and they saw it as less of a blessing and more of a curse.

They couldn’t lose them, not on that day.

The house security cams showed the two of them heading into the woods behind their house with some kind of box, and that was all Scott, John, and Virgil needed to go sprinting out of the house. At this point, Dad was getting better about not drowning in work, but he still needed a little more counseling before he would be fully back. That left the three eldest brothers to go on a wild goose chase.

After searching for what Scott remembered feeling like a thousand years, they stumbled upon the two blondes giggling in an opening in the trees. Bursting through the bushes without a second thought, Scott and Virgil (with John behind them) not only saw their brothers unharmed and having a blast in the middle of the opening, all around them in the trees hung big and bright lights. It was as if they were standing in a pocket of stars. Stars they made from their own will and determination.

It was iridescent enough to make the three older brothers gasp just once before remembering why they were out in the dark and cold woods in the first place. Scott trudged over a little more forcefully than he probably realized. Right as he stood over his two youngest brothers, Alan’s tiny, freckled face looked up into his eyes obliviously and pointed at the set of lights.

“Look! Gordz made it pretty!”

Scott and Virgil wrapped their younger brother in the biggest bear hug ever, anger and fear forgotten. It was quiet, whispered and somewhat broken from two years of non-use, but damn, it was Alan. The light at the end of the tunnel seemed even closer. The two of them might have stained the back of Alan’s shirt with tears. Alan didn’t need to know.

Meanwhile, John, flabbergasted and slowly entering a state of shock due to his adrenaline drop followed by even more adrenaline after hearing Alan again, walked over to where Gordon was and simply asked, “How did you do… that?”

It was a question for more than one thing: how did you get Alan to start talking? How did you hang up the lights with no serious injury? How did the two of you grow up so quickly and closely without us even realizing?

All Gordon did was shrug, bring his hands behind his head with his elbows above it, and cheekily grinned, “There are just some secrets two brothers need to keep!”

When the two blondes shared a room that night, tangled with one another like the cords in the lights, Gordon felt something in his chest. It was something warm and fuzzy, and he would only feel it again for years to come when it was towards his only younger brother.

The 10-year-old didn’t know what it was, but he knew that when he figured it out, he would try to be better at it than Scott ever was. Heh, nowadays, he realized that probably wasn’t possible, but that was also okay.

Alan only needed one Scooter.

Right now, however, he needed his one and only Gordz.

---

Brains and other therapists suggested the reason Alan got quiet after going through a traumatic event was simply that it was easier to block things out if you were quiet.

All the brain energy that went to his mouth could be used to not think about the awful things he heard or witnessed. It was perfect. It left the rest of his brain to still be used for all of the other things he liked to do: he could hang out with his brothers and sister, play video games, and (unfortunately) work on homework without cause of concern.

Alan thought it was simple. His family thought it was torture. After all, he wouldn’t tell them what was wrong, and if he didn’t tell them they couldn’t fix it. It was everything their ‘am big person, protect the small’ inner programming hated and they felt like screaming. It was the avalanche again. It was Alan’s bullies again. It was the broken arm again. It was Dad’s disappearance again. Man, they never thought Alan would come back after that one.

But dammit, Gordon thought, their dad isn’t gone anymore, and it was because their stupid, selfless little brother was willing to go through hell and back to get him for them. The least Gordon could do was show Alan how much it was appreciated. How much he was appreciated.

But at this point, Gordon was on the verge of calling it a night.

It was a simple fucking question: do you remember where those stringed lights were?

Sure, it’s been God knows how many years since anyone has pulled them out, and Grandma did pack away a lot of stuff in rather secluded places that she deemed unimportant or, well, too traumatizing. But they could at least give him a general direction on where to go! Everyone knew the basic details of the layout of their storage compartments, come on!

Gordon was sitting in the kitchen, groaning into his hands when he heard someone clearing their throat from the doorway. Snapping his face away from his palms, he looked up into the eyes of none other than his father. The older man had eye bags for days, and his eyes were a little wearier than Gordon liked, but the small grin made Gordon feel like everything was alright.

Or maybe it was the box with the familiar lights in his arms. Mostly that.

Gordon stood up and blinked, “D-Dad--”

Jeff walked into the kitchen in a way that spoke, ‘let me say this first,’ “Scott mentioned you were driving your family crazy searching for this. I may not know how you boys set up the island after I left, but I do know your grandmother is stubborn as a bull. The only place she would have put this was in the decorations closet, where it wasn’t, which I’m sure you figured out, hence the constant nagging, so that means some kind of outside force moved it to a place least expected.”

Gordon was lost, “Where was it?”

Jeff let out a slight huff of air, “The back of Alan’s closet.”

Damn. Dammit dammit damn. Why wasn’t that obvious?

With a grip gentler than Gordon remembered he had, he took the box from Jeff. As he was examining the contents, he was able to smile at his father, “Thanks, Dad, this is exactly what I wanted.”

Jeff laid a hand on his son’s shoulder, squeezing softly, “I’ve left this family to take care of itself twice in my lifetime, it was the least I could do. May I ask why you need them?”

The least I could do: goddamn was this family a hive mind sometimes. That didn’t stop Gordon from asking his burning question, “How quickly can we make these waterproof?”

It took all of half a second for Jeff to raise his eyebrows in confusion, followed by one of his trademark grins.

Oh yeah, the Tracy family was coming back

---

“Shhh Allie, keep it on.”

Alan rolled his eyes. Whenever Gordon blindfolded him it always ended poorly. Whether the ultimate bad ending would come to Alan or Gordon completely depended on how previously well-thought-out Gordon planned this to be. Regardless, Alan needed to do something other than chores and college applications since there was none of it left for today. He was getting so good it was kind of bad. In fact, one of the first things he did was drown himself in his work to the point that everything he missed in his captivity was done within the first three days of being back.

And here the public thought Alan and his father had nothing in common.

Alan felt Gordon’s hands on his shoulders the entire time they walked together. Eventually, they paused as Gordon needed to open the door to the outside, which was a great sign, by the way. Alan’s ears were picking up every little noise, including each of the thunks their feet made down the stairs, as well as the whistling of the wind blowing through their hair. Alan didn’t need to take off the blindfold to know it was night. The last thing Alan was looking at before Gordon scared the shit out of him with the blindfold from nowhere was the clock, 10:04 PM.

The thunks suddenly became less hollow, signaling they were on solid ground. It took Alan a couple of seconds longer than he would’ve liked to realize that Gordo was walking them straight towards the pool. Alan, remembering all the times he’d been shoved in it, started to fight back. Only minorly, though, like a baby wolf trying to overtake the Alpha of the pack. In the end, it didn’t matter, as Gordon stopped both of them with a slight push downward on Alan’s shoulders, signaling he didn’t need to walk anymore.

Gordon took his hands away and started speaking when he saw Alan wasn’t going anywhere. He walked around to the front of his brother, “So… this might be a long shot, but you remember those ‘starry lights’ we played with all the time?”

Alan blinked a few times behind the blindfold. Yeah, he did remember them. It was a huge staple between them. The days it got hard, or cold, or when it seemed like nothing would get better, they would pull those lights out and forget everything else. It felt like they were surrounded by a blanket of hope.

Gordon first wanted to do it in some random room at their old house two years after their mother passed, but quiet Alan suggested they go out to the woods. He flapped his tiny hands, and to paraphrase what he said, We’ll have more room! Plus, the real stars will make it even cooler!

From then on, it was just another thing between the two of them. They pulled the lights out when one of them was sad and the other wanted to cheer them up. After their mother’s death, after failing a test at school, after Dad’s disappearance, after Gordon’s hydrofoil crash…

Gordon will forever be grateful for Alan’s ability to be a little piece of shit. He’ll never know how the kid snuck the box into the hospital and he hoped he never found out. The hospital staff wasn’t as thrilled by the lights hung up around the room. Gordon was pretty sure he saw the pic up on ‘Five at one point, though, so at least someone appreciated their talents.

Right, the important matter at hand. Gordon needed to work on his rambling-when-stressed problem, “Well, Allie Allie Allie, guess what I found?”

Before Alan could tilt his head, the blindfold was untied from his head by Gordon. It fell off his face to reveal said older brother standing directly in front of him with a grin on his face that said, ‘you’re not going to believe this.’ Once Gordon saw Alan’s attention was completely on him, he stepped out of the way quickly so Alan’s line of focus could stay on what was in front of him and not just on his brother.

Alan’s breath caught in his throat.

Gordon smirked at his brother’s flabbergasted look, “You know how they say how the ocean isn’t that much different than deep space? Well, I think I found a way to make them even closer.”

Alan held his hand out in front of him only slightly. He was worried if he moved anything that the beautiful sight in front of him would go away. Those wonderful, amazing lights were all submerged in the pool in various spots near the bottom, the refractions making it look like there were twice as many. The pool looked like it had a weird, unique case of the chickenpox. It was breathtaking.

Little puffs of Alan’s breath were condensing into the familiar white clouds in front of his face due to the chill, but he didn’t care. The sight in front of him was much more important. Before he could sign a thank you, or maybe even just cry (which he would hate, thank God for interruptions), Gordon slung an arm around Alan’s shoulders, catching the freckled boy’s attention again.

Gordon waited for those wide, blue eyes to look at him directly before beginning, “I can’t even begin to imagine what happened up there. Part of me wants to be selfish and never come up with thoughts even close to that kind of shit, but… it’s not fair to you.”

Alan blinked and was suddenly turned 90 degrees to be standing front-to-front with Gordon. The older brother continued speaking when he put his hands on Alan’s shoulders, stretching his arms out to their full length, “You don’t… you don’t have to talk about everything, I know that first hand, but… don’t shut us out. You’re not a burden, you’re not a problem, I know that’s a thought of yours that’s been made worse by that bastard but the last thing I want is to--”

Gordon choked off his words due to a mixture of rage and pure sadness bubbling within. Suddenly, he couldn’t look Alan in the eyes anymore, “I just don’t want to fail you any more than I already have.”

Gordon looked down at their feet to watch some of his tears fall to the ground and splish-splash on the concrete. Dammit, he promised a lot of things (mainly himself) that he would be strong for this, but he supposes he was never the best at taking things seriously.

Gordon’s breath hitched at the feeling of two small hands on his cheeks. Those same hands brought his face back up to look at Alan sadly grinning, his own tears starting to form in his blue eyes. Before Gordon could curse himself out for failing this plan so spectacularly, his heart stopped in a good way at a tiny admission, a verbal one.

“Please… don’t make… me cry, too…”

Holy shit. Part of Gordon’s brain thought, ‘sweet, it only took a few weeks, a new record!’ but the other part, the big brother one day I’ll be better than Scott! part leaped a hundred feet in the air out of pure joy. With a laugh, Gordon yanked Alan into his arms and squeezed tight. Alan simply returned the gesture, albeit his arms were around Gordon’s waist, nor was his grip as strong. They did both have tear tracks on their cheeks, however.

Alan was still there. He was still their selfless, annoying, little bro, and he might not be fully back, but it was enough to know that not even the fucking Hood could take him away from them.

It would take a while to get back to normal. Scott would still pass out due to exhaustion from time to time until he fully realized it was all over, John, while not physically up on ‘Five, would take a while to fully come back down to Earth, Virgil was going to be found at that damn piano bench more than in his own room, and God only knew how Kayo or even Dad was going to react as the days went forward.

But they would get there. The Terrible Two were going to make sure of it, one prank at a time.

#fabfivefeb #fabfivefeb2020 #gordon tracy #alan tracy #jeff tracy #scott tracy #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #fanfiction #fanfic #my post #my fic #series: rules of alchemy

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skvaderarts · 4 years

Text

Apocrypha Chapter Thirty: Interloper

Masterlist can be found Here! Thanks!

Chapter Thirty: Interloper

Note: Thanks for all the amazing feedback, everyone! This has been a super stressful week. I just built my first pc, and I have to take it to Geeksquad today (10/26) to have them test it for a power issue that causes my system to randomly shut down without notice. I’m not scared to death at all! Nope! Hahahahahaha! *Cries*.

(-~-)

Light shined through thick cracks in the roof of the cavern as excess moisture dripped from above, colliding with the ground below. The area didn’t look entirely dissimilar to that of the underworld, thick layers of luminescent stone coating multiple surfaces around the conduit, and a similar stone forming the monument itself, albeit without the otherworldly glow. The black sludge remained, but no longer seemed to bubble and boil as it once had. How a cold fluid could seemingly boil was beyond Dante, but then again, the many fascinating facets of the underworld were more his brother’s thing.

“Think of it as a kind of scab, the tear itself being an open wound that never heals.” Trish said as she watched Dante examine the area immediately around the conduit, the youngest of Sparda’s twin sons clearly trying to comprehend the cult’s goals in this place.” And try not to spend too long in that sludge. I’ve heard that it can have strange effects on those who spend extended amounts of time near it.”

Dante perked up slightly at her statement, formerly lost in thought. “Do you think that it’s going to affect V? He was soaked in this stuff, and he wasn’t exactly in one piece when we found him.”

As her face migrated towards her hands, she shrugged, not so much aloof as she was indecisive. “I can’t really say. There are very few conduits, so this fluid is very uncommon. It might be worth bringing some back for Magnolia to study, but I’m not sure she could come up with much. She’s a botanist after all, and this isn’t exactly a plant.”

He responded with a nod, agreeing with her sentiment. Trish was correct, Magnolia wasn’t that kind of scientist. But perhaps she knew someone that could help them identify the core components of the otherworldly substance. It was best to have some sort of idea what they might be going up against if this stuff had actually made it into his bloodstream. And if all else failed, maybe Nico could give it a look. It was a long-shot, but Nero had told Dante that the young mechanism had managed to cobble together an actual time control device from a shard of Geryon’s horn that V had brought back, so anything was possible. Between the two of them, it seemed that nothing was entirely out of the question when it came to dubious acts of scientific research and even more dubious applications of… magic? Was it magic? How the hell did Magnolia do half of the things that she did.

Dante was very tempted to ask his older twin how they’d met in the first place.

I mean, it was rather unlikely that he’d asked her on a date or something once upon a time.

He had a hard time imagining Vergil taking to a woman at all, but then again he did have two sons. But in all fairness, that wasn’t an activity that required much conversation. It was more of an “actions speak louder than words” sort of affair, except in the instances where those actions caused a large quantity of words. Regardless, Dante was somewhat positive that Vergil and Magnolia had never had that sort of relationship. She was several times out of his league, though he liked to imagine that Vergil would pretend to not be interested in her just for the hell of it.

The younger of the two twins wasn’t going to pretend that he knew much of anything about his brother’s love life, especially since he quite literally knew nothing about the mother’s of either of his nephews, but he was willing to believe that Vergil was probably the mutually exclusive sort. Deep down, he had to have feelings for at least one of them. And considering the ease in which Magnolia toyed with the devil slayer in blue, he got the impression that they were comfortable around on another. But there was a large gap between conversation and… well that.

He didn’t really want to imagine anything having to do with his brother’s love life in that regard at all.

Dante ran his finger against a deposit of Luminite, silently surprised to see it here again. It had been ages since he’d found any of the demonic mineral anywhere, yet here it was, practically oozing from every available surface, and glowing brightly in the dim cavern. What an unusual sight to behold. “Haven’t seen this stuff since I met you. Seems like a lifetime ago now. Any idea why it might be here?” The blond devil jumped down from the spot she was perched on, no longer content with simply observing. Despite the fact that she’d made short work of the place before Dante had arrived, he’d insisted on taking a look for himself before they departed and returned home. While he possessed the utmost respect and confidence in Trish’s judgment and investigative skills, he also felt that coming all this way only to long use his own eyes to give the area a once over would be a foolish mistake, and the last thing he felt like doing was making more of those. So on the off chance that Trish had actually managed to miss something, Dante decided to take the opportunity to check things out for himself, and this rare but all too familiar form of sedimentary stone was far too strange to pass over.

“If I was willing to make a guess, I’d say that the influence of the conduit is doing this. Things tend to become more demonic immediately around one of these things, and the presence of naturally occurring Luminite in the human world just means that we're close to a huge deposit of demonic power. Malet island isn't unique in that regard.” She took a moment to look at the stone closer, considering something to herself.” That being said, I still can’t imagine what a cult would need V’s blood and an arcana for. It’s not like this is…”

She froze suddenly, something occurring to her. Dante gave her a curious look, alarm bells sounding in his head as he considered what she might be thinking.” What is it?”

She shook her head slowly, seemingly understanding their intentions for the first time. And what occurred to her was disturbing to say the least.” … Why didn’t I see it before? This is very bad.” She said, turning in the direction of the now dilapidated exit.” V is a descendant of Sparda like you and your brother. Your father sealed off the human and demon worlds, which is why nothing can really come through a conduit like this in the first place. But with the help of an Arcana that your father helped create, and V’s blood…”

Dante stopped dead in his tracks.

Oh. OH. Oh, shit.

(-~-)

The fog was noticeably thicker than it had been, a light rain joining it as it blanketed the area in a chilly haze. After coming to the conclusion that hovering over V like he’d developed the bubonic plague wasn’t going to help matters in the slightest, the Darkslayer had allowed Magnolia to talk him into leaving the room. The two had ventured into Magnolia’s attic, the space housing the majority of her plants. The closure of her shop meant literally nothing to her botanical studies, and as such, she still needed to water the specimens in order to keep them in good condition. Well, that went for the majority of her plants, at least. Some were actually allergic to moisture, an aspect of their biology that she was never going to stop finding inconvenient. How on earth did a plant of any kind, be it from the underworld or not, manage to function without the presence of water? One could only imagine that things worked a little differently down there.

Vergil browsed the wide selection of academic texts that she kept on the bookcases in her workspace, keen to find something to help keep his mind occupied. He couldn’t make V wake up any faster, and she had been kind enough to allow him to stay as long as he liked until such an opportunity presented itself, but there was only one guest room in the house, and it was occupied. If Vergil couldn’t stretch out and make himself comfortable, then he would have to settle for entertaining himself in other ways.

“Do you have any books in this house that aren’t incredibly boring?” Vergil asked offhandedly, looking at the books but not really paying attention to them.

Magnolia shook her head slightly as she pruned one of her plants, her back to him. “Terribly sorry, darling. I thought you liked your books the way you like your personality.”

Vergil wasn’t sure if he should be insulted or entertained by her witty remarks. She was truly the queen of sarcastic comebacks. In all the years that he’d known her, Vergil had never been able to go toe to toe with her in regards to witty comebacks. Not that he had been trying to in the first place. Being the eldest son of Sparda, Vergil liked to think he was above such things, but depending on who you asked, they might say that that was a load of bullshit and that deep down he did actually possess a sense of humor.

After coming to the conclusion that simply opting to ignore her statement was probably the best thing he could do from a self preservation standpoint, he grabbed the first reasonably interesting book he could find and firmly planted himself into one of the nearby chairs. Magnolia continued to prune her strange looking plants, clearly focused on her craft. While he knew a passable amount about the flora and fauna that was native to the Underworld, the vast majority of what grew in her indoor greenhouse was totally unfamiliar to him.

“Dante nearly touched a cluster of Daturademonica while we were down in the underworld a little while ago. It’s a wonder that he’s still alive.” Vergil said casually as he leafed through the pages of one of her botanical encyclopedias. While the vast majority of the plants in the book would be foreign to even the most experienced botanists, they were average everyday specimens to those who were more supernaturally inclined. It couldn’t hurt to outfit himself with more knowledge on the subject. Such information might have been useful to him during his extended stay in the underworld. More than once he’d nearly consumed (or actually consumed) less than edible flora and fauna in an attempt to provide sustenance for himself. Not being poisoned would have been a nice to have in an environment so hellbent on ending his miserable existence.

Suddenly, Vergil didn’t miss his time in the underworld at all.

“I take it that what happened to Redgrave City was your doing, then? I thought as much. Either that, or your return was the most unfortunate case of fortuitous timing that I’ve ever seen.” She stepped away from the table she was working at and gave Vergil a serious yet solemn look as if she were mourning the loss of something dear to her.” But regardless, I’m glad that you both made it back safely. I won’t ask or even pretend to understand why you do anything that you do, Vergil. All I can do is try to help when things go awry.”

Vergil shifted slightly, crossing his legs in relative discomfort as she walked past him and towards the stairs. She sat her tools down and gestured for Vergil to follow her before descending the stairs. He watched her go for a moment before opting to follow her, taking a moment to return the book to its proper place on the shelf where he’d found it. He then started down the stairs after her, catching up rather quickly as she stopped to open the door to the room that V was located in. Much to his surprise, she stopped for a moment and did a noticeable doubletake before practically skipping back into the room, clearly excited about something.

Curiosity piqued, Vergil ventured into the room and was nearly as surprised as Magnolia was to see that V was no longer asleep. The young summoner in question was now seated with his back against the wall, looking practically as tired as he had when he’d fallen asleep a few days prior. Vergil was curious to know why he seemingly hadn’t improved much in the time he’d spent unconscious, but the fact that he had finally woken up and was no longer bleeding profusely was enough for him. At least for the time being. Vergil knew that the time for answers wasn’t far off, and as such, he was willing to wait just a little bit longer for that time to arrive.

As the two baffled onlookers made their way into the room, V eyed them quietly. He hadn’t felt as weak as he did in that moment since he’d been resurrected a short while ago. His head was foggy and the temptation to simply go back to sleep was strong, but he knew that doing so wasn’t advisable. If the looks on Vergil and Magnolias faces were anything to go by, he’d been asleep for a while longer than he’d originally intended.

“I suppose it’s reasonable to guess that I’ve been asleep for sometime now.” Vergil said horsley, taking a moment to clear his throat. It was almost as if his throat and lungs were glued together.” How long have I been unconscious? The last thing I remember was talking to Nero in the bathroom while you were tending to my injuries. After that, there’s nothing.”

Magnolia nodded. “That makes sense considering the fact that you passed out shortly after. Well, you sort of just collapsed. It’s still unclear what happened exactly.” She gestured towards the room they were in, firmly planting her hand on her hip.” I asked Nero to bring you in here after that. Keep the change of clothes. The ones you had on are definitely not going to do you any good anymore. There isn’t enough bleach in existence to get demonic residue, blood, and dirt out of something like that. It’s a wonder your hair stays so white.”

For a moment, V wondered if this was what it was like to be scolded by an angry mother. He had no experience with such matters, but hearing her describe how hard it would be to get stains out of his clothing brought to mind the stereotypical ads he so often saw on billboards, magazines, and television ads. It made him wonder for a moment if the kindly woman that stood before him had any immediate family of her own; any children that came to visit from time to time. Perhaps asking her in the future would be a worthwhile use of his free time.

“I couldn’t tell you. It just sort of stays the way it is.” V said with a quiet shrug, his gaze turning towards the large window his bed was positioned in front of. Although the fog had yet to dissipate, white light pierced the glass and filled the room with much needed light.” ...I attempted to dye it once when I was younger. The results were… unsatisfactory to say the least. Apparently my hair is somewhat hydrophobic, at least as far as artificial pigment is concerned.” Vergil resisted the urge to shake his head in a mixture of amusement and bewilderment. The idea of altering his hair color had never crossed his mind in the many years that he had been alive, even if that might have caused him significantly less trouble. Apparently the white hair that ran in their family was quite the dead giveaway to any demon that had ever met their father. So just the entire underworld.

“Why did you attempt to do so in the first place?” Vergil inquired, his back against the wall nearest to the door. At this point, he was genuinely curious. Had V been going through some sort of rebellious faze and decided that he needed to change things up? That was the only reason he could think of off the top of his head. Perhaps it was simply beyond him to understand why his oldest son did most of the things that he did. They had lived different lives and gone down different paths. All he could do now was hope for the best.

Much to his surprise, V looked somewhat taken aback by the question. The younger white haired man looked away from both of them for a moment, seemingly contemplating something that he found unpleasant. Magnolia glanced at Vergil for a moment, a questioning look on her face. She got the distinct feeling that whatever he was about to say wasn’t good.

“There were several aspects of who I was when I was growing up that didn’t sit right with the people around me. I had the misfortune of being a relatively low energy child who was both left handed and seemingly cursed with an unusual hair color.” V paused for a moment, repressing some of the memories that that statement had caused to surface.” At one point when I was at the precipice of becoming a teenager… I ran away from the place I was forced to call home. Changing my most noticeable feature seemed like a good idea at the time. Thankfully, the need to do so never arose. I don’t believe they ever bothered looking for me. I get the impression they would have been glad that I was gone. And I’ve never gone back to prove myself wrong.”

A strange mixture of emotions hit Vergil as he contemplated the concept of experiencing such a fundamental level of rejection. Although Dante drove him crazy at times when they were children, the idea of running away from home had never occurred to him. For V, someone he considered to be quite level headed and wary of his surroundings to do something so extreme… he must have faced an unprecedented amount of adversity.

In that moment, a look of heartbroken sympathy crossed Magnolia’s face as she tried to grasp the gravity of what V had just said. What terrible things had he experienced in his youth that had led him to such despair? Had she known that V was in such a state, she would have happily helped him without a moment’s notice. It would have been her pleasure to give him somewhere safe to go. This was awful.

Suddenly as if to break the tension in the room, the front door opened and two sets of footsteps could be heard coming towards them. Before anyone could react, Dante appeared in the doorway with Trish at his side, the two seemingly eager to share something with them. And whatever that something was, everyone present was willing to believe that it wasn’t good.

“Vergil... we might have a problem.”

(-~-)

I Have a headcanon that V is a lefty because of how he does some of the things in the game. Also, the idea that both he and Nero are lefties is really interesting to me due to the odds of something like that happening. As for his childhood… all in good time. Slowly but surely we shall see more of it. The curse of Sparda family childhoods is alive and well! See you all on Friday. This next part is going to be a doozy!

#Apocrypha #DMC #DMC5 #DMCV #Devil May Cry 5 #Devil May Cry #V #Vitale #Vergil #Magnolia #Trish #Lady #Devil May Cry V #Post DMC5 #A03

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innaminitus · 5 years

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Desires #11

Pairing: Loki x reader

Summary: Vanaheim needs allies and since you are the eldest daughter of its king, you are a victim of arranged marriage with one of Odin’s sons - Loki.

Chapter warnings: language, angst, badly told Ragnarok

Chapter word count: 3061

Four years later

The day was beautiful. It really was. But when you forced yourself to watch this idiotic play with your husband shapeshifted into Odin next to you… You felt like smashing something.

At first you played woe. You watched your child grow up with her father pretending to be someone else. You accepted your fate. Bit your tongue when they made that ridiculous statue of Loki, but you’ve had enough of it now. You were fighting all the time. You begged him to stop, to just rule as himself, but he disagreed. The worst thing was trying to explain the situation to Marigold. She was just four, she didn’t understand most of things, let alone why her father dressed as her grandfather and why she could call him dad only when there were no other people around. And why she could never, ever mention to anyone that she sees her father. You hated him for making your situation so complicated.

The play finally ended and you could roll your eyes in peace.

“Father. Sister.” You heard a voice behind you and turned quickly to see Thor. That was it. He could help you.

“Shit…” Loki cursed silently, getting up. “My son, Thor has returned! Greetings, my boy.”

“Uncle Thor!” Marigold slid down your legs and raised her arms to him.

He laughed and lifted her up, her little hands wrapped around his neck as she hugged him tightly.

“Little person!”

“Look what I can do!” She closed her eyes and focused, wrinkling her little nose and making you laugh silently. Her blue skin started to slowly turn beige as she changed to her Aesir form. Loki taught her that.

“That’s truly amazing, Mari! You are a fast learner.” He put her back on the ground and turned to Loki. “It’s very interesting play. What it’s called?”

“The tragedy of Loki of Asgard. The people wanted to commemorate him” He stuttered.

You rolled your eyes again and Thor didn’t miss that.

“Indeed they should,” he said slowly and pointed behind him. “I like the statue. A lot better looking than he was when he was alive, though. A little less weaselly, less greasy, maybe.” He raised a big skull he chained to his back. “Do you know what this is?”

“The skull of Surtur. That’s a formidable weapon!”

Thor turned to the warrior standing behind him.

“Do me a favour. Lock this away in a vault so it doesn’t turn into a giant monster and destroy the whole planet.”

Loki clumsily leaned on the metal arch filled with roses. How could he be the God of Mischief if he couldn’t even properly lie to his brother? Well, it was better for you.

“So it’s back to Midgard for you, is it?”

“Nope.” Thor shook his head. “I’ve been having this reoccurring dream lately. Every night, I see Asgard fall into ruins.”

“That’s just a silly dreams, signs of an overactive imagination…”

Thor raised his eyebrows and looked at you. You slowly, barely noticeable shook your head and hoped he would get what you meant. It was time for Loki to end this masquerade.

“Possibly. But then I decide to go out there and investigate. And what do I find, but the Nine Realms completely in chaos. Enemies of Asgard assembling, plotting our demise, all while you, Odin, the protector of those nine realms, are sitting here in your bathrobe, eating grapes.” Thor threw his hammer and it obediently came back to his hand seconds later.

��Yes, it’s best to respect out neighbours’ freedom.” Loki was out of track. Good.

“Yes, of course, the freedom to be massacred.”

“Yes, besides I’ve been rather busy myself-“

“Watching theatre.”

“Terrible theatre…” You murmured, watching Marigold digging out the seeds of the grape she tried to eat.

“Board meetings, and security council meetings…”

“You’re really going to make me do it?” Thor cocked his head to the side.

“Do what?”

Thor threw his hammer with unbelievable force and slowly walked behind Loki.

“You know that nothing will stop Mjolnir as it returns to my hand.” He placed his hand on the back of Loki’s head. “Not even your face.”

“Thor!” You hissed, ready to use your magic if he was to really hurt Loki. You had more hate than love relationship with him now, but he was still your husband.

“You’ve gone quite mad!” Loki shouted. Marigold dropped her grape and watched the scene with big eyes.

“Mommy?” She turned to you, worried and you lifted her to your knees.

“You’ll be executed for this!” Loki peaked at you, looking for any backing, but you weren’t going to give it to him. You just stiffly watched Mjolnir flying closer and closer.

“Then I’ll see you on the other side… brother.” The hammer was really close.

“All right, I yield!” Loki jumped at the last second and turned back to himself. Finally. He smiled at the gasps of the crowd and turned to you. “Thank you for your help, wife.”

You just raised your eyebrow.

“As if you deserved any.”

He narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to say something, but appearance of Scurge interrupted him.

“Behold!” He gasped. “Thor… Odinson…”

“No.” Loki shook his head and pointed finger at him. “You had one job. Just the one.”

“Where is Odin?” Thor asked, dragging Loki’s attention back to him.

“You couldn’t stay away, could you?” He hissed. “Everything was fine without you. Asgard was prospering. You’ve ruined everything. Ask them.” He showed at the people.

Suddenly Thor came closer to Loki, making him take a few steps back.

“Where’s father? Did you kill him?”

“You had what you wanted.” He fell on the chaise longue. “You had the independence you asked for.” Thor pressed Mjolnir onto his chest. “Alright! I know exactly where he is.”

“Mommy.” Marigold pulled your hair to make you look at her. “Can I talk about daddy now?”

“You can,” Loki answered for you.

“I can’t believe you put your child into that, brother.” Thor shook his head. “I knew you weren’t exactly caring, but this?”

You got up and shushed Loki before he could say something to make the situation worse.

“Believe me, he pays for it.” You coldly eyed your husband. “Everyday.” You reached your hand to Marigold. “Come, snowflake. Dad has some things to fix.” Your sight never left his. “And he better not be coming back before he does it.” You turned your back at the brothers, dragging your child with you back to the palace.

“Where the hell are you?” You asked Loki in your head, using the bond you both created shortly after he came back from the dead after the battle on Svartalfheim.

“Hell is quite a good description actually…”

You heard a weird noise in your mind, he sent a sound of fight through the bound and you stiffened.

“What’s going on?! Loki?!”

He didn’t answer long enough for you to be worried and when he finally did, his voice was filled with anger and fear.

“She came through Bifrost! Take Mari and run!”

“Who?!”

He didn’t need to answer. You heard noises of gathering army, shouts and commands before a cold voice filled the air. You could hear her through the widows of the throne room.

“It’s come to my attention that you don’t know who I am…”

You got up from the throne and run to the window. The woman outside was surrounded by the asgardian army. You swallowed hard. Who was that and why the fuck was she wearing your husband’s colours?

“I am Hela, Odin’s firstborn, the commander of the Legions of Asgard, the rightful heir to the throne and Goddess of Death.”

You were screwed. You should stay and protect the palace, but your will to survive was stronger than your loyalty. You run from the throne room and through the hallways, to the room of your daughter where she stayed with her nanny.

“What the fuck did you two do again?!” He didn’t answer you. “Loki, I swear to gods, answer me or I’ll rip your hair out.”

A second passed. And another.

“Such aggressive little thing, aren’t you?”

You grabbed Marigold and ordered the nanny to run. You didn’t bother to remember her name.

“Mommy, what’s going on?” Mari wrapped her hands around your neck. She was freezing cold when she was scared.

“It will be alright, snowflake.” You kissed the top of her head.

“You’re really going to wish you stayed dead four years ago, asshole.” A laughter sounded in your head when you run down the stairs. “And where are you? On the suburbs? In the palace?”

“Sakaar.”

You had to stop.

“Where?!”

“It’s a planet… Or a garbage disposal.”

You sent him an image of you slapping him. He sent you back and image of him between your thighs. “You better remember this, because you’re not getting any for at least a century.” You hissed and clenched your teeth.

You managed to get out of the palace just when you heard something heavy fell in the throne room. Marigold was shaking in your arms, you felt frostbites creating in places she touched you.

“Shhhh…” You lulled her, not sure where to go. “Mommy’s going to take care of it.”

“Princess,” a deep voice behind you floated you with relief. You turned to Heimdall. “Follow me.”

Two days passed. Two days filled with fear, threats and frostbites. You did what you could to help Heimdall gather as many Asgardians as you could, but with Marigold it was difficult. In your free time you cursed Loki, although there were times when you couldn’t not only hear him, but also feel him through your bond. It was Sakaar’s influence, the time there… wasn’t right.

But then Heimdall told you they came. Thor and some people you didn’t know.

When you reached the Bifrost there was no sign of Loki.

“Care to explain why you’re not with your brother?”

You hoped for the respond so much you almost cried. You could hate him all you wanted, but he was the love of your life and you couldn’t bear a thought of losing him.

You wrapped your arms around Marigold so tight she squirmed.

“Baby, do you remember what daddy taught you? How do you turn into an icicle?” You locked your eyes on the army of the dead and focused on keeping Marigold’s sight away. She nodded. “Can you show mommy how you do it?”

“But you don’t like me do it…” She said, trembling in your arms. Woe was ripping you apart. You never wanted this for her.

“I love it when you do it, snowflake. I love you whole, blue or not.” You kissed her black, curly hair and shut your eyes closed for that moment. “Can you turn into icicle for me?”

She nodded again and closed her eyes for better focus. Her skin started to cover with frost, which slowly turned to ice. She was horribly cold to touch right now, but if she only managed to keep that ice armour on her, she was relatively safe.

You wanted to fight, your magic was impatiently waiting for you to use it, but you had to keep every last drop of it to protect your daughter.

“Look up.”

You almost fell on the ground when you heard his voice. You shot your head up just in time to see a spaceship emerging from a fog.

“Your saviour is here!” Loki shouted, his arms stretched as he stood on the entrance of the ship. You forced yourself not to roll your eyes, but a smile crawled on your face. He came back. “Did you miss me?” He looked for you in a crowd he just entered. “Everyone on that ship, now.”

‘Welcome home,” Heimdall said to him when they passed each other. “I saw you coming.”

“Of course you did…” Loki’s eyes found yours and he almost run to you. “My dearest…” His lips captured yours in a passionate kiss, his hand caressed your cheek. “And what a beautiful icicle do we have here?” Marigold smiled at him.

“Loki!” You quickly created a shield to protect him from the attack on his back. “As much as I don’t like it, now it’s not the time for that.”

He smirked and kissed your cheek before turning around and stabbing someone with the daggers he just summoned.

“Get on that ship or I’ll drag you there myself,” he said before joining the fights.

Even though you wanted to stand by his side like you did on Vanaheim, you had to think about your child first. If only someone could take care of her… But you didn’t trust anyone who wasn’t Loki or Thor.

And they were both busy now.

A lightning fell on the palace and Marigold screamed before hiding her crying face in the crook of your neck. You created a strong shield around you both and run to the spaceship where most of the Asgardians was already hiding.

It took some time to clear the Bifrost of Hela’s warriors, but they eventually did it. You watched Thor and Loki talk for a second before this pretty Valkyrie girl you’ve never seen before passed them.

No, no, no.

“Come back here, you idiot! You’re not fighting that bitch!” You screamed in your head when you saw them walk in the direction of the palace.

You only felt a warmth of love he sent through the bond.

They were arguing. She was going at them and they were arguing…

But then Loki nodded and turned. You felt such relief when he run to the direction of the ship… Only to pass it.

“What are you doing?! Stop ignoring me!”

“Ragnarok.”

You froze in place and slowly turned to see Thor fight Hela. Were they really going to destroy Asgard?

“Go! Go now!” You heard Thor say and the engines started to work.

“No!” You tugged Heimdall’s arm. “We can’t go without them!”

“It will be alright, my princess.”

You didn’t believe him. You held your daughter tighter in your arms and walked as close to the edge of the spaceship as you could.

“Mommy… Where is daddy?”

“She’s asking for you…”

“Tell her I love her.”

“Tell her yourself.”

Your heart was breaking again. You were higher and higher in the air and you still couldn’t see Loki.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“Then come back to me.”

“Don’t I always?”

You smiled sadly and almost jumped at the sudden heatwave. You shot your head in the direction of Asgard… Of flames.

You were so high up and he was there, somewhere in these flames. Your heart was beating like crazy, Marigold was shaking and you had to be strong for her. Even if it was so hard right now.

“Tremble before me, Asgard.” A giant monster grew from the fire and you covered Marigold with every bit of magic you had. Surtur was here. “I am your reckoning!”

You knew it was for the best. Hela had her powers from Asgard, but… It was your home, after all. It was the place where you fell in love, a city you learned to call yours. A sting in your heart was unbearable.

The green man… He was fighting the wolf before you got on the bridge when protecting the back of your people. He grabbed Thor and the girl, and jumped high to reach the ship.

Your heart stopped pumping blood and instead was pumping rage.

Did they just really left Loki down there or was it just your twisted imagination?!

“Loki?!”

Nothing.

You couldn’t look, so you turned your gaze away. You could hear everything, though. The sound of breaking planet, of fire consuming every bit of your home.

“I love you, too.”

You were far in space now, surrounded by the darkness and stars. Marigold fell asleep after melting her ice armour and your body started to heal the frostbites.

You sat on the floor with a bottle of something strong, watching your fingers defrost.

A pair of leather shoes entered your view.

“I hate you,” you sobbed and raised your head. “I hate you for doing this to me. Over and over.” Tears flew down your cheeks and Loki slowly squatted next to you. He tried to wipe the tears away from your face, but you moved away. “Don’t touch me.”

He sighed. “I had to-“

“You had to? You had to cut me out? To ignore me for all these hours?”

He sat next to you.

“You’re right… I’m sorry.”

“Your apologies became inauthentic around three years ago.” You couldn’t force yourself to look at him. “When will you finally understand that you’re not on your own? We are a family, Loki. You can’t put yourself to such risk. Everything you do affects us all, whether we want it or not.” You took a deep breath and faced him. He was so… beautiful. Tired, yes, but this raw beauty of his face made you want to hug him and never let go. “Your daughter knew her father only at nights. Did you think about it?” You shook your head. “She asked me once if you don’t like her and if that’s why you shapeshift, so she couldn’t call you daddy.” You saw sadness in his face. “I wasn’t ready for this baby and you knew it. And yet you left me alone with it, right after you promised to be by my side. And what for? For poor theatre and grotesque statue.” You took a sharp breath. “I obeyed you for all these years, but I can’t do it any longer if you keep putting me off.” He opened his mouth to say something, but you didn’t let him. “I think you need to sort out your priorities. And when you do… Let me know if me or our daughter are on the first place. Or is it the throne, power or tesseract.” You got up and fixed your dress. “Because if it is so, I’ll ask you for divorce.”

“Y/N-“ He got up, but you just shook your head.

“It’s too late now.” He looked as if he was going to cry, but you were so tired of always being the last. “You’ve underestimated me for the last time.”

___

tag list: @3nmxnxt3r @arianna-17-11 @blue-sunset-oreo-lover@connor-of-detroit@darkprincessloki92@fuckythebuckybarnes@frommywindow10@ginnyweasleysscrunchie@i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night@jessiejunebug @just-another-loki-fangirl @kneel-before-queen-loki@lokislilslut @malanix @marvel-ous-fics@marvelrose @min-yoongi-my-love@myownviperroom@princerowanwhitethorngalathynius@renownedmeme@superdrysuperfry@terrainhead@vespirin @youare-mysonshine @stxcloudy @1800-fight-me@justasmisunderstoodasloki@inlovewithmrstark @itsmadness-97@i-think-i-am-adorable @curiousershipper @orchidjjg @captainstartights @bluestaratsunrise @been-falling-for-thirty-minutes @loki-poki-foki@freddies-fried-chicken@bluestaratsunrise @iamverity

#loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki #loki imagine #tom hiddleston #avengers #marvel

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roscoesykes · 5 years

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The Man Comes Around || Wayward Sons

Part 1 /2

Summary: The family sends men to Swynlake in order to remind the Sykes brothers exactly what’s at stake for their disobedience to their father.

Timestamp: September 9th, 2019.

Triggers: Violence, fighting, gun use, knife use, graphic injury, torture, blood, death and all the triggers associated with such scenerios. HMU for a safe & simple TL;DR.

“And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder One of the four beasts saying, ‘Come and see.’ and I saw, and behold a white horse"

@desotosykes

ROSCOE:

They caught him off guard.

They caught him completely off guard - and it was only now that Roscoe realized just had complacent he had become. He'd stopped looking over his shoulder. Stopped wondering if people were around the corner. For the first time in a long time, Roscoe had been happy. He had a family that he loved, a brother by his side that was finally falling in love himself - a beautiful wife and a baby boy they loved dearly. Oliver, who he'd slowly but surely been accepting as someone he could learn to call his eldest son.

God - there was really no describing how fucking happy he really was. So happy, and trying his best to stay out of trouble and that meant for the first time in his life, he wasn't paranoid either. It was almost freeing how amazing that could feel after living a life looking over his shoulder every day.

It was just a goddamn shame that was what fucked him over now.

The men that had come for him on his walk home from the Court wasted no time. Before he could even begin to struggle there was a rough punch to his gut that dropped him to his knees - prying hands immediately relieving him of the knife within his boot and the only protection he had, a bag shoved over his face before he could even draw in a breath from the air he'd expelled in a pained grunt. It was only after rough shoves, forceful pulls, harsh comments and a completely disorienting trip that the man had finally been shoved back down to a concrete floor. His palms scratched across the surface as the bag was ripped from his head - replaced instead with fingers that curled aggressively into his hair, ripping his head up from where he was crumpled upon the ground.

"Keep your mouth shut and we ain't gonna have a problem." A voice hissed behind his ear, Roscoe's breath hitching lightly as he recognized that familiar tint of an accent, bringing forth the urge to struggle within the grip. It was only after a swift punch to his jaw that he stilled again, blood dripping from his lip as he grimaced and tried to relieve the pressure against his scalp.

What the fuck had he gotten himself into…?

DESOTO:

When DeSoto had first come to Swynlake his phone had gone off constantly. There was always a litany of texts and calls. Each one the same. Was the job done yet? Had he found Roscoe? What was taking so long? Why aren’t you answering our calls? The boss isn’t happy, we need progress. The last text he’d received had weighed on his conscience for about a month. It was a call to action and a final warning. Either do the job or we’re coming to take care of it.

A week passed by without anything else and DeSoto thought maybe they were bluffing. Another week passed the same and then another. By the time two months had passed, DeSoto was certain that they’d forgotten about him and Roscoe. There were bigger fish to fry. He’d heard through the grapevine about Bill’s appeal meeting. They’d be busy getting ready for that. Had probably been hoping their fearless leader would be let out and back into the fray.

That was the last that DeSoto had heard. His New York burner has long gone quiet and now sat in the bottom of one of the drawers in the Tipton.

It was so far from his mind, that as he made his way to Celia’s flat he didn’t think to keep his defenses up. The New Yorker had made the trek more than a few times already and most stayed out of his path. He liked to call the fact he wore a perpetual scowl his people repellent.

He was only a block or so from Celia’s apartment when his world went dark. Immediately he swung his fist out, connecting with flesh and hearing a satisfying crack as bone broke beneath his fist. Before he had time to pull back for another blind hit, something connected with his cheek and he felt pain flood through him as an iron taste filled his mouth. It disoriented him enough so that whoever was attacking him could wrestle his hands behind his back and land another blow to his head. He swayed on his feet giving them enough opportunity to shove him into what he assumed was a car. The door slammed shut and soon they were moving.

DeSoto lost track of how many turns they made. They hadn’t taken any care in strapping him and his body rocked back and forth dangerously with each sharp turn and hard brake.

When the blindfold was finally removed, his face swollen and bloody, he found himself in a building. Probably on the outskirts of town if the fact the building seemed to be falling apart was anything to go by. But that didn’t hold his attention for long. Roscoe was in the opposite corner looking just as bad as DeSoto felt.

“Aye fuckin’ let ‘im go. S’posed t’be my hit,” he spat, trying to hide the fear that suddenly gripped him and made his blood freeze.

ROSCOE:

Roscoe didn't know what was going on here - and certainly didn't want to find out but he had enough of an inkling to have a clue. He wasn't stupid, after all. There were only so many reasons a gang of thick mixed New York accented men would be holding him down and threatening him.

And by so many - of course he meant one; his father.

He'd run for so long and honestly he should have known that this shit would catch up with him. That DeSoto's refusal to kill him would finally bite them in the ass. The family didn't take no as an answer. Nor did they take refusal lightly. Guess he should have been lucky that they hadn't slit his neck so far but it wasn't much reassurance. Not when he heard the scuffle of resistance and movement outside and felt the cool tip of a gun press to the back of his neck.

Roscoe knew who the hooded man they dragged in was before they even removed the blindfold - Roscoe immediately swallowing back the fear that formed a lump within his throat. Not good. Not good at all.

A cold laugh fell from someone behind him, the gun shoving tighter against his neck as he hissed in annoyance at the uncomfortable feeling, his gaze catching his brother's with a subtle raise of his brow - a call to action if he wouldn't have already known it was pointless.

"You'll do well to remember only to speak when spoken to, asshole." The man purred, gesture something towards the man besides DeSoto, who immediately reacted by kicking the older twin down to the floor - a boot heavily planting itself between his shoulder blades.

"Hey!" Roscoe growled, pushing against the hands forcing him down and hearing the soft click of the safety that stilled him instantly. "Enough." Someone shouted, an unrecognizable asshole coming to stand between them as he regarded them distastefully.

"Let's not pretend yous both don't know why you're here. After all - my dear DeSoto, if he is your hit then I beg to wonder why he's still fuckin' here?"

DESOTO:

It took a moment for his eyes to fully adjust. He’d been solely focused on the fact Roscoe was here too and they were going to kill him. Didn’t matter that Bill had made it DeSoto’s punishment to kill his brother. Because he’d gotten complacent and had half assed his job they were both gonna die. Execution style in a dirty abandoned building.

Made sense it happened as soon as they both were fucking happy.

A grunt came from him as he was kicked to the floor. At first he struggled against the foot, trying to unbalance the asshole that had him pinned. Apparently there’d been a restructuring of goons in the family. These guys were nothin’ like the idiots he and Roscoe had dealt with before everything went down. Either that or somehow they’d gone soft. An option DeSoto didn’t even want to consider.

Des’ gaze had been fixed on Roscoe, trying his best to convey some sort of apology while he did his best to come up with a plan to get out of there. It looked hopeless but there’d be a chink in their armor somewhere. They couldn’t be strong and completely put together. They weren’t supposed to be that organized.

“I told yous idiots, I was waiting,” he spat out, glaring at the man that had entered the room. “The whole point was t’make him think he was safe. Yous fucked that up by rushin’. Now get this asshole off of me.”

ROSCOE:

A million things were going through his mind. There was nothing he wanted more than to form some kind of plan that could have gotten them both out of here and away from these fucks but he was coming up blank. Fear tinged briefly in the back of his mind as a shaky breath fell from his lips. He could see the look Des was giving him and honestly it almost only made him more nervous - it made him feel like they were nothing short of fucked.

And perhaps they were.

"We weren't asking for some elaborate plan. You were to do as yous were told and do it quickly." Roscoe heard the man speak, the tone accompanying his words drawing his brows into a furrow. "I do believe we warned you, did we not? Gave yous one last chance before we came to clean up this mess ourselves?"

Oh no. DeSoto's job was to kill him, right? So.. If they were here to clean up there was no question that by the end of the night him and Des might be nothing more than discarded bodies in the street.

"Might we remind yous what happens when you don't do as you're told, DeSoto." The stranger (asshole, Roscoe decided) spoke, only a brief moment before the cool metal disappeared from the back of his neck. Intuition only warned him that was a bad sign seconds before his arms were forced behind his back, that grip on his hair finally dropped in favor of hauling the man lightly to his knees. Roscoe's eyes widened slightly as one do the grunts in the corner moved forward, the sickening sound of metal sliding against concrete as he dragged the end of a metal bat against the floor - positioning himself beside the younger twin, bat lifting to hover cruelly over his abdomen.

"Care to try explaining your failure again? This time with less bullshit?" Head-Asshole requested, trailing off with a small roll of his hand. "Or else." The words were accented by the pressure of the metal bat against his stomach - not nearly as hard as Roscoe knew it could have been, but still enough to drive a pained shout from his lips as he jerked in the grip holding him up - said grip about the only reason he hadn't doubled over completely.

DESOTO:

Pure panic raced through him as the asshole between him and Roscoe spoke. The chances of them actually getting out of this relatively okay were slim. There was no way that Roscoe was getting out unharmed. Already he could see the way they beat the shit out of the younger Sykes. He’d be dragging his brother out unconscious most likely. If they didn’t flat out kill them.

But Des wasn’t sure they’d do that. It was Bill’s decision, anyways, to have DeSoto kill his brother. He was making a point. Punishing Des for being related to Roscoe, for being so close to him. Because there was no denying that Bill was convinced his sons were plotting to take over the business. No matter how angry DeSoto got when the accusation was thrown at him, no matter how many times he denied it.

He needed to think. And quick. What was gonna be the best way to get them both out of this?

In the span of a few seconds the answer snapped into his mind and he shot a look to Roscoe. Trust me it said because shit was definitely about to get sticky.

“Quickly,” he scoffed, looking up to the asshole from his spot on the ground. Scowling he shook, making it difficult for the man on his back to stay that way. “Get the fuck off me. Yous forget who the fuck I am? M’Bill’s fuckin’ enforcer. His heir. Yous been working for him for what? A year?”

He spat at the guy until he was let up enough to at least kneel. There was no way they’d let him up or let him have control of his hands but that was fine. He could work with that.

“It ain’t a failure. After what this asshole did?” He nodded his head towards Roscoe, narrowing his eyes and frowning at the other male. “Yous don’t think he deserved t’sweat it out? He betrayed all of us. He ruined fuckin’ everything. Bill’s locked up because of him. His fuckin’ flesh and blood. Yous think that deserves the regular rat treatment? Nah. Fuck that.”

ROSCOE:

For the record? Roscoe fucking hated this. Not that anyone would like being captured, beat up and threatened, of course, but Roscoe hated more than just that. He hated the fact that these assholes held themselves with the belief they had power. That they were sitting here blaming one twin for not killing another and that he had to sit here and listen to all the wrong he'd done all over again.

Even with DeSoto's subtle look - the one that told him that it wasn't really what he meant, the words still stung. Or… perhaps that was still just the remnants of the bat to his stomach.

"Is that… so..?" The man's voice all but purred, amusement evident in his tone - the fuck enjoying watching them suffer. Roscoe shifted uncomfortably, not liking the way gazes were drawn to him in a moment of consideration. "I agree." Lead-fucker finally stated with a small clap of his hands, smiling twisting dangerously upon his features. "Fortunately however - we do believe a year has been enough for you to make him squirm. Especially when you switched gears to, as you said 'make him feel safe'." A snap of fingers and once again that bat made contact with his body - not upon his stomach but lower, in the middle of his thighs with a much harder swing. Another yell of pain ripped from his mouth, despite his attempt to bite down on it, the hit repeated once more as Roscoe swallowed back bile.

It told him something though - they moved to the strongest bone in his body. Moved to bones that were surrounded by layers of fat and muscle to protect them rather than his unprotected organs. They couldn't kill him. Because though the shots were painful (extremely so) they were less so than one to the chest or stomach would be at that power. And yet… they moved, if only because they knew it would kill him otherwise. They were being careful.

"Come now, DeSoto. The boys and I think you've just gone soft!" A small chorus of instigating laughter followed. "Do you really care about making him suffer? - or do you just care about him?" Roscoe felt himself stiffen as the goon beside him raised the bat - nuzzling it condescendingly against his hair, and he could see the man shoot DeSoto a look. A challenge.

And in that moment… Roscoe thought he might've been wrong about the not killing thing.

DESOTO:

The funny thing about this was that a few years ago DeSoto wouldn’t have given beating the shit out of Roscoe a second thought. Hell, he’d done so a few months ago. There had been so much anger and sadness in him over everything it had been easy. The asshole holding onto Roscoe now could have given the bat and he would have gladly taken it and taken a few swings at him.

Now though?

Now the thought made his stomach turn. Bile rose in his throat but he swallowed it back. It was clear now that there was no way they were getting out of there in one piece. His goal now was to get Roscoe out of there alive. Something that looked nearly impossible now as the handle of the bat was shoved in his face.

“Fuck off. He’s my brother. Course I fuckin’ care about him. I ain’t fuckin’ heartless.” He spat the words at the chooch as he yanked the bat from his hands. “Which means yous questionin’ my loyalty to the fuckin’ family. Who was Bill’s second? Not any’a you fucks. He called all of yous in t’handle me. Ever wonder why he needed more than one?”

A scoff fell from his lips as he looked at his brother, a decision solidifying itself in his mind. Jesus this was gonna fuckin’ suck. But it was their best option. In one fluid moment he swung the bat, half heartedly, knocking Roscoe in the stomach. He felt the blow in his own stomach, wanting to double over in response. The blow was followed by his fist connecting with Roscoe’s cheek before Des dropped to his knees.

A hand went to Roscoe’s hair, tugging it harshly as he brought their heads close together. “When I tell yous, duck,” he whispered it as if he was sayin’ his final words to his brother before shoving him away with a frown and standing back up.

“Yous gonna keep questioning my loyalty or yous gonna let me fuckin’ finish this the right way?”

ROSCOE:

This was gonna blow. That was all he could think as he watched DeSoto speak towards the idiots within the room. None of them looked intimidating by his brothers words and worse off that expression of amusement was still planted on the man in the middle. They were practically just toying with them - pushing and prodding and seeing how far they could go.

Roscoe swallowed nervously as Des accepted the bat into his hands - it happened before he could even think about it. The apprehension dotting a cool sweat across his brow. Yeah, this was definitely going to blow.

Roscoe felt his teeth bite down hard into flesh as the bat connected with his stomach once more, trying his damnedest not to make a sound of pain at his brother's action - if only for DeSoto's sake. However the quick cut across his jaw caught him off guard and he knew he'd split his lip with his tooth the second he'd gotten his bearings back about him. The urge to spit the warm blood within his mouth only prevented by the quick and harsh pull at his hair.

When I tell yous, duck.

"Fuck yous." He spat quickly in response, letting his head drop down as soon it was free of his brother's iron grip. For their credit - the display seemed natural and none of the men suspected that he'd been told anything more than a whispered threat or last right. Or if they did, they certainly didn't show it - instead offering a few scoffs and growing smirks.

"Very well. If you so insist, DeSoto. Feel free to show us all the right way to finish this. Please." Roscoe heard the man say, the younger brothers gaze slipping up in an attempt to count the pairs of legs surrounding them. Since… Roscoe had an inkling of what Des might've been planning and… it certainly wasn't going to be subtle at this rate.

They needed a plan. A plan that included getting the hell out of this situation or to die trying. In order to avoid the latter, they needed to be ready. Blood dripped off his chin, accumulating easily below him as his eyes swept what he could see. Head fuck face. Guy holding his arms. Guy who'd had the bat. Guy who'd been holding Des down. Guy who'd been standing watch beside DeSoto. Five guys. At least. He couldn't see behind him. One gun for sure.

Two experienced, gang trained, street wise scrappers on their side. Well… - Roscoe shifted in his spot if only to test his mobility, a blinding white pain shooting up his back almost immediately as a grunt sounded between clenched teeth. Great. Make that one scrapper. He was going to be goddamn useless but… Fuck they didn't have a choice.

… Man - they were so goddamn screwed - and Roscoe supposed he was just going to have to take the option of die trying.

DESOTO:

These fucks were taunting him. Egging him on. They didn’t know how destructive DeSoto Sykes could be. Didn’t realize the time bomb they were working with. There was a reason DeSoto and Roscoe had been enforcers. Why Roscoe, the smarter of the twins, was paired with his brother. There was a monster that lurked just beneath the surface of DeSoto’s exterior. A dangerous, unnamed creature that reared its ugly head whenever DeSoto’s anger got uncontrollable.

That beast was restless as he watched the men around them. They were cocky, amused. They honestly thought this mission they were on was going to be simple. That they’d be able to take down The Boss’ sons. It pissed DeSoto off more than he could even put into words. The sheer ignorance. The lack of respect.

He growled as he stalked forward, ripping the gun from the other man’s hands. Fucking prick. The oldest Sykes would save him for last. He’d see him crying and pissing his pants before he finished him off; a warning to the rest of the dumbasses back home who thought they could come after them.

Easily he moved to stand behind Roscoe, a cold gleam in his eyes, and positioned the gun. It was scary how naturally the stance came back to him but expected. How many others had been put in the exact same position by him? Taking a breath he cocked the gun and counted. Each man looked on expectantly, waiting for the gun to sound.

“Duck.”

Before Roscoe had a chance to complete the action DeSoto shot the gun, aiming for the idiot that’d been holding him down. Before the body hit the floor the gun was dropped to Roscoe and DeSoto sprang forward, body colliding with the ring leader. Darkness took over then as his fists collided over and over with the asshole’s face.

ROSCOE:

Roscoe wasn't going to pretend that he wasn't scared. Even though he knew that DeSoto wasn't going to kill him, he still felt his blood turn to ice in his veins as his brother moved to stand behind him. It only served to remind him of how close this had been to a reality. Of how many times this entire situation crossed his mind in a nightmare.

His breath even stilled as the gun clocked behind him - drawing out that last bit of courage as he found himself silently praying regardless. He never knew if Des would change his mind in that moment - to remember how much of his life had been fucked up all because of him.

Duck.

Roscoe moved before he even fully processed the word, his hands pulled back around to his front as he dropped forward with a sharp pain in his abdomen. Seconds were precious - and the room erupted into chaos within a moment. He heard the clatter of the gun beside him, a hand reaching out to grab it as he used most of his will to flip himself onto his back.

A shot was fired off - hitting the man who'd been holding him in the chest and dropping him immediately. Before he could get the second round off however, a body was on top of him - a knee landing heavily on his hip as a hand tried to shove the gun away. Ros tried his best to bring his own knee up to topple his opponent quickly before more damage could be done, but he'd still felt the cold slice of a knife against his skin before he'd managed to get the gun situated back under his attacker.

The report of the pistol felt deafening in his already ringing ears, the splatter of blood from the other man coating him like mist on a summer morning before his body was shoved aside like a ragdoll.

Trying to waste no time - two more shots rang out, both barely hitting their mark on the goons on their way to stop the brawl between his brother and the man in charge. They weren't fatal - he was sure. But…incapacitated was more than enough for him right now. It was only when he didn't see them move to get up that the pistol finally dropped from his weakening grip, a pained groan slipping through his lips as his hand instead moved to clutch his abdomen, gaze trying to focus across the room towards his brother - hoping and praying that he was winning his own battles and that he hadn't miscounted the number of guys present.

He didn't have the strength or will to pick that gun back up if he had.

DESOTO:

In any other situation, the sound of gunshots would be jarring. In any other situation, however, DeSoto wouldn’t be brawling with an assailant. He’d be by his brother’s side firing his own weapon. But as it was, DeSoto didn’t even hear the gunshots. His rage had taken over and all he could focus on was the guy beneath him. The fucker needed to pay for what he did. And it was DeSoto’s job to ensure he paid.

All around him was the sound of flesh on flesh. His fists were bloody. Though, he wasn’t sure if that blood was his own or the other guys. It didn’t matter to Des. He hadn’t heard the crunch that he wanted; didn’t feel the asshole stop moving beneath him. That was wait he was waiting for. Why he kept hitting the so called ring leader of this little group.

A large part of the darkness wanted to treat him how he’d treated Roscoe and DeSoto. It wanted to leave him bloodied and bruised on the floor waiting for death. Only DeSoto would draw it out. This man would wait hours, days, weeks before he got that sweet release. And his death would be painful. It was easy to conjure up different scenarios of how it would go. Each one was more painful than the last and it left a large grin on the Italian’s face as he continued to beat on the man

Finally, with arms that felt like they were made of leaf, DeSoto got the confirmation he wanted. There was one deafening crunch as the man beneath him went limp. Not quite ready to believe the man was dead, Des pinched what was left of his caved in nose and waited for the man to take a gasping breath. When it didn’t come, he peeled himself away from the corpse beneath him.

Immediately his eyes scanned the room, taking in the bodies strewn around it. Roscoe had killed most while Des had worked the leader over. Later he’d come back and collect personal tokens to send home to New York. The rest he’d burn and dispose of once they were in the clear.

It was then that his attention turned to his barely conscious brother. “Roe,” his voice sounded like gravel as he stopped down to the younger man. He was pale. A pale they’d never really been. And Des could see the puddle of red seeping from him. Panic kicked in then, pushing the darkness back into its corner, as he shifted to hoist his brother up. “Fuck. Hold on. Fuckin’ hold on.”

ROSCOE:

Roscoe could feel the pounding in his ears - his heartbeat a quick and almost unsteady drum that drilled relentlessly into his head. The pain seemed to throb in time with it, growing and shrinking every second as he curled lightly into himself.

To say he felt like shit would be an understatement - shit not even beginning to cover the way in which his body seemed to be hurting around him.

A groan served as his brother's only answer to the soft call of his name (or maybe it was loud, he couldn't tell above his heart beat). As long as DeSoto gave him a few moments to gather his bearings he'd be fine… everything would be fine and they could just go home and laugh about this later.

"—Eugh" Came the pained sound of irritation at being jostled, a hiss slipping from his lips as he leaned heavily into his brother's shoulder. ".. —m'okay, s'okay." He tried to reassure him, his tone only a little garbled, as he tried to press himself up into a proper stand. He didn't realize however how much of a daunting task that was really going to be - every movement tweaking a new flare of pain and a fresh wave of nausea.

Hand once again found its way towards his stomach, curling tightly along his abdomen as he stumbled in his brother's grip. Shaky fingers pulled at the fabric of his shirt lifting it just enough as his gaze fell to look at the skin resting beneath. It took him far too long to focus, eyes narrowing for far too long before he realized his vision wasn't that fucked up - the skin was just dark red from bruising and… - well actually that wasn't the color of bruising at all.

"F-f… Fuck. S'not good."

DESOTO:

Adrenaline continued to course through DeSoto’s veins. The darkness was receding but it still lingered on the edges of his vision. It wanted to keep him fighting, to find another person worthy of his anger, but rationality was sinking back in. The need to take care of his brother emerging with each weak word from Roscoe.

His eyes zeroed in on the skin Roscoe was showing. Fuck. It wasn’t good. There wasn’t going to be getting this patched up at the hotel. They’d have to go to the hospital and that was gonna be enough trouble. Now there were going to be questions. They’d probably want to have the police called in to find out what happened. It was ingrained in them to avoid the fuzz. It only led to more trouble in cases like this.

But— his brother was bleeding out and looking worse each passing second.

“S’fine you stupid fuck,” he huffed, hoisting him up further. They needed to figure out where the fuck they were. How far they were from the fuckin’ hospital. He had a gut feeling that they didn’t have too long. Limping under his own slight injuries and Roscoe’s weight, DeSoto cursed when he got outside and saw where they were at. Too fuckin far from town to make it walking. Ros would be dead before they even got halfway there.

Thankfully, though, Des spotted the vans they’d arrived in. Hobbling over, he tossed Roscoe inside before rushing to the other side and starting it up. “Just fuckin’ stay awake, asshole. Yous ain’t allowed t’die on me.”

ROSCOE:

Fingers curled tightly into DeSoto's shirt as the man shuffled him up, opposite dropping his shirt back down as his arm wrapped back around his waist. A pained hiss slipped out as he stuttered in his steps again, every movement of his legs just burning at his bones. He had to count himself lucky that his legs weren't broken at least. That he still had some of his wits about him.

Though slowly but surely that was waning too.

Doing his best to assist his brother rather than forcing him to deal with his dead weight, Roscoe positioned himself into the van (where this van came from?? He hadn't a goddamn clue) and let his head fall against the window. Now that the present danger was taken care of, he could feel his body slowly coming back to itself - that adrenaline that had rushed his veins, flooding out and replacing numbness with sharp agonizing pain, stiff soreness and more than enough regret to keep him content for years.

"I'm alright." He tried to say in response to his brother's aggressive concern but the words caught in his throat - a cough stifling them immediately. His chest felt like it was on fire, the tension curling in his stomach and nearly forcing bile into his throat. Gaze caught the small spatter of fresh blood upon his fist and honestly? He couldn't tell if that had simply originated from his split lip or was the source of a far greater problem.

".... —c-call Rita." Roscoe choked out minutes after he'd gone quiet, the fear starting to find a grip on his consciousness as he felt darkness clawing at his mind. Fighting for control as Ros desperately tried to ignore it, to listen to DeSoto's words. It was only when he felt seconds from blacking out that he jammed his hand against the knife wound in his side - the sudden flare of pain waking his senses as a growled curse of pain fell from him. It sure wasn't fucking ideal but… He needed to stay awake.

He needed to live.

DESOTO:

Every few seconds DeSoto’s eyes drifted from the road to his brother. Even though their fight was over, the adrenaline didn’t leave him. Wouldn’t until he was alone and he knew his brother was safe. Or at least being taken care of by qualified people. And even then he didn’t think he’d be able to calm himself. They’d been attacked without warning because they’d let their guards down. Things would have to change. Things would have to be like they were in New York again. But instead of protecting their father, they’d be protecting the people they’d become close to here.

Already DeSoto knew he’d be calling in favors from those he’d met over the years. He’d make sure they weren’t attacked again. The next time New York tried to come here they’d know the second they took off.

Roscoe’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. Rita. Course he wanted her called. It’d be good, though. She could stay with Roscoe while he went out and took care of their protection. He didn’t like the woman but she could serve a purpose.

He waited until the groaning stopped, an affirmation from his brother given, before he called the woman. “Shut up. Get to the hospital. Shut up. I’ll tell you when I get there.” Before the woman had a chance to start that high pitched whining again DeSoto hung up and tossed the phone towards the back. He’d have to get a new one. Hell, they’d all have to get new ones. The last thing they needed was to be tracked.

Tires screeched to a halt as DeSoto finally pulled the van in front of the hospital. Running in, he wasted no time screaming at the people in the front. They gave him worried looks but he waved them off with threats. “Get my brother. Now.”

#c: DeSoto #x; Wayward Sons #tw violence #tw knives #tw injury #tw blood #p: The Man Comes Around

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fandomoniumflurry · 6 years

Text

Life is a Highway

Part 6

catch up here

This is a coop story between me and @keepcalmimthecupcake from an rp we did and we shall resume it here.

Summary: What if the Impala was made human? Enjoy the antics, angst and humor we have in store for you!

word count: 4.3k

warnings: language mention of canon violence and death, nightmares, fluff, angst

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Sam seemed to know what to do. He climbed into the bed next to her and wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder. It was quite the sight to behold, his large body curling into her like a child, like he had always done growing up in her backseat. Even though she smelled a little different and felt a little softer, she was still the same Impala. She smiled and ran her hand tenderly over Sam’s hair.

This is what she was good at. Protecting her boys, being there, always, to comfort and love them. She was beginning to think that this wasn’t as much of a curse as it was a gift. Yes, she would have to learn how to move her human body, but now she was able to better comfort her boys. She could give them that human touch that both craved so much, though neither would admit to. She could be another pair of eyes in a hunt. And they wouldn’t have to worry about her safety. She knew a lot already, and with some training from Winchesters, she’d be ready for just about anything. “I love you, my Sammy. And I have ever since Mary leaned against my passenger door and told John you were going to join us.” She leaned down and kissed his head, then rested her own atop his.

Having lost so many people in their life, it was nice to have a living breathing person that they cared about back in their presence. Which only seemed to make Dean's face change sour, the idea of losing someone else becoming too much for him to bear. "I'm gonna shower." He stated gruffly, tossing his cell phone to Sam. "You teach her all the tech shit." Before Sam could respond, the bathroom door slammed shut.

“Dean is harsh, but you know he means well. It doesn’t excuse his bad behavior, but he does things out of love. Piss poor way of showing it sometimes, but he cares. I think he doesn’t /want/ to care. Because when he does…..that means that there’s something that can hurt him. Someone he could lose that would be another chink in his armor.” She sighed softly. “He was trained as a soldier would have been. He has that mentality. It’s hard to break that, especially when he’s done it a certain way for years. He thinks he has to be the perfect soldier, a machine. But….he’s not a machine. He is human. And now, being on the other side of that, I think maybe I understand him a little better.”

Sam listened in silence as Em spoke, her voice actually quite soothing. The brothers had been through so much in their life and Sam didn't know how much he needed this until he actually had her. He was relaxed for the first time in a long time, actually content sitting on that bed curled against the beloved Impala. It was strange, sure, but it was oddly comforting and Sam didn't want to ever get up. She knew everything about them, she knew them inside and out and had always stayed true. As a human, she had every opportunity to be like any other human. She could take her freedom and go make a life for herself. But she was already proving to stay loyal, wishing to stay with them, and holding Sam closer. Sam felt a small smile gracing his face, his hand moving to rub her arm gently. "We both love you, Em." He stated softly, rocking her slightly. "Dean just needs time."

She paused for a moment, then went on. “As a car, I had thoughts and feelings. But I never really understood them completely. Feelings weren’t how they are now, thoughts were different. When you’re a machine, feelings don’t have quite as much impact as they do when you’re human. It’s easier to turn off the hurt. I think that’s why Dean seems to shut out his emotions. At least part of it. He doesn’t seem to understand that emotions are part of what makes a person beautiful. Not that he’s ugly or anything….I mean…….” She lost her train of thought as she realized what she’d said. Her cheeks flushed pink and she was glad Sam was not looking at her right then. She heard the shower turn on and she chuckled softly. “Anyway. I know you understand what I mean. I’ll help you keep him in line. He’ll listen to me. Maybe. If not, I’ll have to make him listen.”

Sam knew the feelings Dean had about his car, the devotion he had for it. Now that she was a human, he could see how his brother struggled getting used to the idea. But he knew in time this would be a good thing for the eldest. He could already sense the chemistry between them and though it should be really weird, in their lifetime, it was one of the most normal things Sam could think of. Who better to be there for him than his precious Impala? What better woman for him than the one woman he spent most of his time with? Dean's attachment to his car was always a concern of Sam's but as time went on he began to understand. And now more than ever, he got it. "If there is anyone that will get through to him, it's you, Emelia." His head lifted and he grinned at her. It was clear he was glad to have her around and he knew once given time to adjust, Dean would be too.

Sam was right. Dean just needed time. If there was one thing she’d learned, it was that Dean didn’t process things like others did. He tended to keep it inside until it ate away at him them burst out randomly in a fit of anger. She wished that he could find a better way to express himself. Sometimes his words hurt. Not only that, but he would pack away all that pain and keep it locked inside him. That could destroy a person after a while, and she didn’t want that to happen to her Dean.

For now though, Dean was left with his thoughts in the shower. The water pressure sucked and made him miss the bunker so the shower was short. The bunker was his home now, the one place that was actually theirs. They hadn't had that since they were babies. It was nice to have walls and a bed to claim as his and do with as he wished, a place to come back to, a place to relax. That had always been the Impala for them. And in a way it still was. But now the Impala was gone. Instead, they were stuck with one more life they were responsible for, that he was responsible for. He knew it was her, Baby, but a part of him just couldn't wrap his head around it still. He missed the purr of her engine, the feel of her leather interior, the coolness of her black metal. But then his mind wandered. Sam sitting on the bed with the woman right outside the door. He held her, found comfort in her, just like he always had with the car. She was soft and warm, kind and nurturing. The same she had always been. Dean couldn't help but see the Impala when he looked into her dark eyes. It was no lie that Dean loved his car, almost as much as he loved his brother. If there was one person he'd want to have in his life, it would be her. Car or not. If he lost her...His eyes closed as he let out a slow breath. She and Sam were the only ones he was never willing to let go of. After everything, he refused to lose either of them. When she was a car, it was easier to take care of her, protect her. Now, she was just another frail human that he couldn't even keep safe from a sprained ankle. Time passed after the water shut off but the door didn't open. Sam's head lifted as he sat up some more letting go of Em with a furrowed brow. "You think he's ok?"

“I’m not sure.” she said in response to Sam’s inquiry. “Maybe he’s just thinking. We’ll give him a few more minutes.” She remained quiet for a moment then began speaking again. “He takes too much on himself. Not everything is his fault. People make their own choices, their own mistakes. They are not for him to question nor feel guilty about when things don’t end well. Not everyone is his responsibility. But he seems to think they are. He seems to think he needs to save everyone, but he doesn’t. And who will save him? He keeps things from even you. He doesn’t share the pain he has inside because he doesn’t wish to upset you. But I’ve seen it. And I know that you know it’s there as well. I don’t understand why he doesn’t talk to you about things.”

Her expression only seemed to further wrinkle the youngest Winchester's face. A hand moved to rub lightly against her back. It was nice to have someone that knew Dean as well as he did, someone on his side to help his brother. For years, Sam had struggled to get his brother back, help him through his hard times, soften his heart again. But through everything, Sam seemed to be the last one that did any good for Dean. Now that Baby was around, he had no doubt that things would be looking up from now on. Baby had always been able to reach inside Dean and soothe him, bring out the best in him. Dean was always content behind the wheel, talking to his car, or just sleeping in her back seat on the side of the road. This was no different. He needed her and now he had her in the flesh. If she could already provide Sam with so much hope and comfort, he could only imagine what she could do for Dean.

When she was finished speaking, Dean still hadn’t exited the bathroom. Her brows furrowed as she glanced over toward the door. “He has been in there an awful long time without the water running. Maybe we should go check on him. Can you help me to the door?” she asked Sam. She slowly pulled away from him and carefully slid her injured ankle to the floor. His mouth opened to object to her request, shifting in the bed as she moved to stand up but her stubbornness and blind determination proved that she was definitely a Winchester. “This sucks.” she grumbled, but gripped the side table and tried to stand. She fell back to the bed when she realized she could put barely any weight on her ankle. “Too bad it’s not just a popped tire. That’s a quick and easy fix.” she stated, laughing softly.

"It sucks for now. But you'll be alright. I'll go check on Dean, ok?" She nodded. “Ok.” He smiled at her before he moved to plant himself in front of the bathroom door. He knocked a few times before softly calling Dean's name.

"Shit. Can't a guy get five minutes to himself?!" Dean barked through the locked door and it made Sam frown. "I know you got the face. Don't do the face. I'll be out when I'm out." Sam gave an exasperated sigh and walked away, grabbing the laptop and cell phone and making his way back to Em's side to show her how to use them.

A frown appeared on her face when she heard Dean’s harsh words. “Don’t yell at him, Dean!” she called out. “I asked him to check on you. Yell at me instead.” She wouldn’t let Sam take the fall for something that was her idea. Shaking her head, she turned her attention to Sam at her side. “The phone is kind of like a remote. That should be easy. The computer, though. I might have trouble with that.” She was not a high tech machine, and so the use of computers was nothing she’d ever had to deal with.

She listened carefully to Sam’s lesson. His instructions were easy to follow and he was patient with her as she tried to learn how to move the cursor on his laptop. It took a few tries, but she got it quicker than she thought she would. Soon, she was surfing through several sites he had showed her. It was slow going, but she knew how to work it at least. With some practice, she would get faster.

Now it was on to the phone. He showed her how to go to the contacts list, which buttons to push to dial. This was much easier than the computer, much more straightforward. A smile appeared on her face and she turned to Sam. “I want to call Dean.” she stated, navigating to the contacts list and scrolling down until she found Dean’s name. She tapped the call button and held the phone to her ear.

Dean's phone rang on the end of the bed where he had left it. The eldest could hear it ringing from the bathroom and he let out a heavy sigh. "Can somebody get that?" When it kept ringing, he pulled his shirt over his head and opened the door. "I'll get it." He grumbled before moving to scoop up the phone. When he saw the name on the screen, his eyes lifted to the pair on the bed. The phone was held up as he raised a brow at them. "Is there a reason you're calling me? You miss me that much?" He stated humorlessly before tossing the phone back on the bed and moving to his duffel to finish getting dressed.

"She was just practicing, Dean." Sam's head tilted at his brother with his infamous bitchface before turning to smile at Em. "She's actually got the hang of the whole technology thing pretty well. She's a quick learner." Dean made a low hum sound in response, not that he was actually listening. Sam only scowled deeper before grabbing a pillow and tossing it across the room at his brother. "You could get the stick out of your ass, Dean, and tell her she's doing good."

Dean growled faintly, picking up the pillow and turning to face them. "Yeah, good. Are we ready to go then?" Sam's eyes fell and he sighed, looking to Em apologetically.

The excitement fell from her face when she saw Dean’s annoyance at the call. “I’m sorry. We should have called a different number.” she spoke softly. She was glad she was picking up human things quickly. That would mean less times she annoyed Dean. She watched Sam stand from the bed and move to grab his jacket and a few other items they would need. “You boys be careful out there, ok?” Her eyes turned then to the computer, familiarizing herself more with the keys and practicing moving the cursor. “Hey, Sam. Can you bring pizza back with you? I would like to taste it. Thanks.” she said without looking up.

When Em looked away, Sam's eyes were on Dean. A short and annoyed silent conversation went on between the two of them before Sam finally gestured his head toward the woman. He gave one last angry look at Dean before smiling in Em's direction. "Yeah, sure thing, Em." Another look at Dean and then Sam walked out the door.

Dean sighed, his head falling back slightly with a roll of his eyes. His tongue trailed over his lips before he slowly made his way to the end of her bed. "Um, if you need anything...just uh, call."

“I will be fine. Besides, I have Sam’s phone. I won’t be able to call him. I suppose I should look for a job so I can get my own phone.” she said, her eyes remaining on the computer.

His eyes looked anywhere but directly at her before nodding and biting on his bottom lip. "Don't leave the room." She scoffed dryly at his joke. Where would she go? She had no money, couldn’t walk. The thought of what would happen should she need to use the bathroom while they were gone crossed her mind and she decided that she would just have to crawl across the floor should the need arise.

"Right." He stated with another nod. Patting her good foot before turning, he made his way to the door. She heard the door shut behind him and that was when she finally allowed the tears to fall. Dean’s attitude toward her now hurt her thumpy….hurt her heart. Sam said it was called a heart. She would need to remember that.

As soon as the door closed behind him, he was face to face with his brother. Sam's face clearly portrayed that he was unhappy with his brother's actions. "What?!"

Sam's head tilted. "She knows you, Dean. She knows there is something wrong. And she's got feelings too, Dean." His annoyed tone also made his concern for Em clear. "She cares about us, especially you. So whatever shit you got going on, at least stuff it when you're around her." His features softened as if in pleading before the younger man turned to walk away.

Dean sighed. Not only did he have to worry about the sensitive Sammy but now he had to deal with the emotions of a fragile woman. He stood there in thought for a moment before turning to head around to where the Mustang was parked. The car pulled out of the lot and headed toward the outskirts of town where they had decided was best to check out. Whether on the search for the Trickster or something else, that was the best place to start. Once pulling in, Dean handed his phone over to Sam in the passenger seat. Sam's brow wrinkled and lifted to Dean in question. "Call her." Sam still seemed lost and Dean's eyes rolled. "Just check in with her, ok?"

Sam tried to hide the smirk on his face and Dean just rolled his eyes again as he shut off the engine. Sam hit the call button and hope that she would know enough to answer.

Back in the motel room, she practiced on the computer a while, then did research of her own. The laptop was opened to a page on human development when she fell asleep with the device balanced on her lap. As she slept, many images went through her mind. In some, she saw the world through her mechanical eyes, and some through her human eyes. It was all quite confusing. Images of many memories appeared and for a short while, there were many flashes of a phone ringing. She could practically hear it in her sleep. Her sleeping mind knew that if there was any trouble, one of her boys would call her and keep her updated. But what if they weren’t able to?

She began to toss and turn in her sleep. The laptop slid off her legs and onto the bed beside her. Now there were scary images in her mind. Dean beaten and bloodied, trying to stand on his feet. Sam locked to a chair, being beaten by an unknown assailant. Dean…...thrown to the ground at her side….not breathing. Her own breath began to grow unsteady as the nightmares continued, then there was a loud crash and she woke with a start, seeing the door shoved open.

When she didn't answer the first time, they didn't really think about it. So they climbed out and pulled what little supplies they had. They needed to be prepared for anything but it was hard to do when they just had a few pistols some holy oil and whatever random things they had in their duffels or pockets at the time. They would need to restock soon. As Dean loaded his gun, Sam tried calling Em again. His eyes lifted and met with his older brother's and he shook his head. Dean's face was unreadable as he cocked his gun and put it in the back of his belt. His hands rested on the hood of the car and he nodded which Sam knew meant to try her again. By the third time she didn't answer, they were back in the car and headed back. Still trying on the way, Sam was starting to get worried. Dean still seemed to remain expressionless. "You think the Trickster?" Sam questioned his brother who gave no answer.

The car came to a screeching halt in the parking lot in front of their room. Dean was the first one out, slamming the door behind him and rushing to the door. He tried the knob and then searched his pockets for the key. "Fuck." A hand banged flat palmed against the door. "Emelia. Em, open the door." Sam was right by his side now, calling her name as well. The two exchanged a look before Dean began to slam himself into the door. After a few good hits with his shoulder, the door came crashing open and Sam and Dean quickly ran in. Dean was on the edge of the bed quick as a flash, hands on her shoulders and shaking her slightly. "Hey, you ok? Baby?"

At first, she hadn’t noticed that Dean was next to her or that Sam was standing there as well. It was just the open door and the memory of her nightmares. She gasped when she recognized Dean before her and she sat up quickly, arms flinging around his neck as she hugged him tightly, breathing a sigh of relief. His eyes widened at her sudden attack. His arms wrapped around her as his gaze turned to Sam who seemed equally as concerned and confused. “You’re ok! I fell asleep while reading stuff on the computer and I had the worst dreams. I saw….” He searched her eyes, seeing the first signs of tears waiting to be released. There was a lump in her throat as she tried to speak. It was a weird feeling and she couldn’t swallow it down. She tried several times, and he waited with bated breath then trickles of tears fell down her cheeks. “I saw you dead. I was a car again and someone shoved you to the ground next to me. I couldn’t do anything to help you. No one could hear me screaming for help.” She clung to his shirt now, sobbing. “You can’t go anywhere without me ok? Please promise you will wait and take me with you.”

He jolted slightly when she clutched him, his arms tightening around her. Despairing eyes looked at his brother as he took in a slow deep breath, his hands rubbing against her back. His chin rested on top of her head as he shushed her comfortingly. "We're not going anywhere. We're right here, it's ok." Sam's face wrinkled with his deep frown as he came to sit on the bed next to her. He laid a hand softly against her shoulder as comfort as well.

She sat back a bit, looking over at each brother. “I’m sorry. I just…...I’ve had to watch you both die so many times. It’s not something one can get used to. I watched the house in Lawrence burn. I was struck and nearly mortally injured myself, but I had to watch as they pulled your’s, Sam’s and John’s broken bodies from my wreckage. When Sam was stabbed and you put him in my backseat and brought him to that abandoned house, I had to sit and watch that. I had to watch you sell your soul then later I carried your hellhound shredded corpse back to Bobby’s. I had to sit idly by and watch Sam jump into the pit of hell. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. So many more times.”

She paused for a moment, the horrors she’d witnessed racing through her mind and causing her to shudder. Arms now held across her chest as she tried to get control of her tears. “For so long, I’ve had to sit back and watch things happen, never able to do anything. And now I get to do something. I get to be another set of eyes, I get to help heal your injuries, I get to watch your backs. So please…..don’t leave me behind.”

They both listened, hearts breaking as she rehashed their history with death. Sam felt his heart throb in his chest, a realization of everything the Impala had seen and experienced in her life. Dean's face was cold but it was clear in his eyes that every scene played out in his mind perfectly. Years of pain and suffering, stuffed down, shoved aside for so long. Now that she was alive, she was reliving it, experiencing it all through human eyes for the first time. It opened old wounds that had scarred and faded long ago. Dean's chest rose and fell with sharp slow breaths, his eyes looking between Sam and Emelia. As hard as he tried to stay hard as stone, Sam could see a part of Dean breaking. Realizing that Sam could see right through him, Dean patted Em's back a few times before he cleared his throat and stood up. "I'm gonna check the car and make sure it can make the drive back to the bunker." Sam opened his mouth to interject but Dean gave him a firm glare. "Pack your stuff. We're going home." He didn't leave room for argument before he strode toward the door and disappeared again.

#life is a highway #shelly writes with boo #supernatural #spn #human!impala #emelia pala #dean winchester #sam winchester

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