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lannister-slings-and-arrows · 3 years

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I and Love and You

The fifth in Rafael Barba/Reader/Frederick Chilton threesome verse written in collaboration with @pascalispretty . Mood board also by the lovely and talented @pascalispretty !! Yep. We did this. Was it necessary? No. Did we enjoy it? Sometimes. Are you going to read it? I sure hope you do and that you like it! Cross posted on ao3!

Part Five of the series So Much Easier than You Realize

Warnings: Total and complete tooth rotting fluff. Schedule an appointment with your dentists, ladies and germs. Rafael is, as always, a bit of a jackass. You will probably have an incurable craving for breakfast food. And the teeniest tiniest mention of daddy kink. Rating: E for everyone because there is nothing objectionable in this at all, I did not think we could actually write something this sweet lol. Word Count: 3725 Summary: Mornings are for cookies and contemplation.

When Rafa wakes up, he spares a moment to sympathize with his growling stomach. More than one moment, if he’s being honest with himself. He isn’t normally an early riser but his stomach wouldn’t be so empty if he’d been allowed to have his bedtime snack and not rudely distracted by his two partners and an ingenious application of his second favorite blue tie. The result is pleasantly sore abdominal muscles and the rare opportunity to wake up in time to see the both of them still peacefully asleep in bed next to him.

Fred’s back is pressed close to his chest and his legs brush against Rafa’s as he levers himself up onto his elbow to look at her on Fred’s other side. Her face is tucked against Fred’s neck and the doctor’s arms are wrapped tightly around her, and Rafa smiles at them both, still asleep in the soft grey early morning light.

Fred shifts, and an irritable frown passes over his face the longer Rafa uses him to balance himself to stare at the two of them, so Rafa quickly presses a kiss to his temple before settling back down with a sigh.

It’s too early to be up, really, but he’s starving and is not getting back to sleep without eating something. He grunts and sits up before pressing another kiss to Fred’s shoulder. He swings his legs out of bed and grabs a pair of grey sweatpants.

Rafa trudges down the hall to the kitchen. There were still Bugles hidden in the back of Fred’s Tupperware cabinet. Oh shit, had he eaten them all? He flicks on the light to the kitchen and huffs a quiet laugh when he finds a sticky note on the door of said cabinet in Fred’s small, precise handwriting.

Sorry, I ate the last of your chips two days ago. In my defense, counselor, you left them in my house and I was having a very stressful day. I made you cookies instead, they’re on top of the microwave. I figured you’d be up before the both of us this morning since you didn’t get your snack. --An Apologetic Psychiatrist who feels like he shouldn’t be apologizing for eating food in his own cupboards.

Rafa runs his fingers over the note a few times, smiling like an idiot, his heart feeling full and warm and about seven sizes larger than it was when he woke up. He turns his head and sees a plastic container (with a green lid because the green Tupperware was for storage of baked goods as Fred was constantly reminding him) right where Fred said it would be, and when he steps over to investigate it further he finds a batch of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies. Another note is stuck to the lid.

I know these aren’t your favorite. I know that you don’t really enjoy white chocolate. Consider this my attempt to make sure you don’t eat all of these in one sitting. Please limit yourself to two; you aren’t in your 20’s anymore, Rafael, and it’s not even a normal time for breakfast yet, much less cookies. --A Not Apologetic Psychiatrist who doesn’t want your first heart attack to be in his apartment, thank you very much.

Rafa rolls his eyes and peels the lid off, smirking as he deliberately takes three out of the box. He doesn’t hate white chocolate, after all, and he does love macadamia nuts. And he has always had a problem following instructions.

Standing at the kitchen counter, Rafa eats his cookies with a pleased groan, once again thanking whatever saints or angels his mami appeals to for sending him a partner that bakes. Not that he thinks his mother would have prayed for someone at all like Fred. Fussy, officious, arrogant, snobby, and, well, a man. His mother would have had someone like their younger lover in mind however. Smart, pretty, and willing to stand up to his attitude. Most of the time anyways. Well, what did Lucia Barba always say? You can make as many requests of God as you want to but remember that He has a sense of humor too? She got him a little extra than what her original request probably specified.

Rafa snorts at the thought and brushes crumbs off his bare chest, leaning back against the counter and surveying the kitchen in the growing light. He’s still hungry but he knows he’ll hear about it if Fred wakes up and all of those cookies are gone. And today is supposed to be the one day this whole month the three of them can spend just being quiet together with no plans, no work, and no prior obligations. He’d rather not spend it all dodging Fred’s passive aggressive jabs and her pouting looks and quiet pleas to please just be the bigger man and apologize.

He stretches his arms out on the counter behind him and tips his head back, staring absently at Fred’s kitchen ceiling as he contemplates making his way back to bed and napping until Fred wakes up and decides to order in breakfast. He’s nearly settled on that plan when he catches sight out of the corner of his eye of the bright blue note on the cupboard. He doesn’t remember Fred spending any time in the kitchen before the two of them dragged Rafa into the bedroom to put his ties to a much more interesting use. He must have gotten out of bed after Rafa fell asleep to put this together, and Rafa can’t help the smile that spreads over his entire face.

Rafa slaps his palms on the counter and shoves himself off, making his way over to the fridge to see what Fred has in the way of actual food. He’s already awake; the least he can do is make breakfast.

He finds the ingredients for pancakes easily enough--Fred is a stickler for organization. Rafa tries not to make a mess as he moves around the perfectly arranged and spotless kitchen. He stirs the batter by hand rather than risk the noise of the KitchenAid but pauses over whether or not to put chocolate chips in.

She would be pleased, her sweet tooth nearly rivals his own, but Fred would almost definitely be annoyed. Especially because Rafa has already had chocolate earlier in the morning. With a fond sigh, Rafa puts the glass jar back in the cupboard, though not before tipping a few of the chocolate chips out into his hand.

It reminds him of cooking in Fred’s beautiful house in Baltimore, his sweet girl laughing and dancing around the kitchen in one of Fred’s shirts, barely being any help at all. All three of them adore the big, beautiful house that Fred had shyly shown them--as if they could have done anything else other than fall in love with it.

Fred relaxed slightly when it became clear that his guests found the house as beautiful as he did. Rafa tried to help her in slowing Fred down as he showed it to them, asking questions about particular objects or features and pointing out the things they especially admired. Every sincere compliment kept a gratified little smile plastered on Fred’s face--and there was plenty to compliment him on.

It’s clear that it holds a special place in Fred’s heart. It’s so him, every inch of it reflecting back the man who poured so much time and effort and money into making it a home. From the collection of antique medical texts carefully displayed on the shelves to the exact shade of teal velvet upholstery on some of the armchairs, Fred had lavished attention on the house to surround himself with things he loved and found beautiful. It amused Rafa to wonder if he’d taken that into account when he’d invited his partners over; whether they’d laud the elegant aesthetic he’d established in his home.

Shifting the spoon briefly to give his right hand a break from mixing, he smiles at the memory. He’s never actually admitted to Fred how much he likes playing house with his two partners there. Rafa is fairly certain that the kitchen in the Baltimore house is larger than the apartment that he grew up in and he knows that a wine cellar is an absurd luxury. But it’s a place where the three of them are free to be themselves, without worrying about nosy neighbors and doormen.

Rafa snorts quietly, folding the batter briskly to get out all the little flour bubbles. That pretty well explains how he feels about Fred too. Fred is too high maintenance, too abrasive in all the ways Rafa normally hates, too… prep school, but Rafa can’t help but smile indulgently every time he turns his nose up at a meal that costs less than fifty dollars, or every time he gets that prissy stubborn look on his face, or juts his chin out and point blank refuses to admit that he’s wrong (even though Rafa can tell that he knows that he is).

He never apologizes either. Ever. He’ll be proven wrong, he’ll hurt both their feelings, and the closest to any sort of acknowledgment of wrongdoing that the both of them will get will be a cup of coffee in bed the next morning, one of Fred’s most handsome smiles, and the complete and sudden cessation of all hostilities like the fight never happened. Rafa knows that with anyone else that kind of behavior would be a relationship killer.

Rafa looks over the batter and nods to himself, satisfied with the consistency, and balances the spoon against the side of the bowl. He stares at the oven and frowns. Just pancakes hardly make breakfast. Going over to the fridge, he grabs bacon out of its particular place, rolling his eyes as he does so, and tosses it on the counter next to the pancake batter, reaching under the silverware drawer for a frying pan.

Maybe it’s the way Fred ‘apologizes’ with the perfect cup of coffee instead of actual words. Maybe it’s that same perfect cup of coffee that somehow manages to find its way onto his desk at work when he’s too swamped to go out and get one--just because Fred knows he needs it. Or a sandwich from his favorite deli and a quick flash of that handsome smile on Fred’s lunch break.

Rafa gets started on actually cooking said breakfast, hissing and swearing quietly when he gets a first-hand demonstration of why you shouldn’t fry things without a shirt on. Fred would have more than a few words to say to him about the relative intelligence of what he’s doing right now. He grins. Maybe that’s it--the way he cares while trying desperately to make it seem like every time it’s an inconvenience of the highest order.

Maybe Rafa loves Fred because every once in a while, when he’s very drunk, very tired, or the perfect combination of both, Fred slips a little and calls the both of them by those cute, ridiculous southern pet names that before now Rafa would have put money on being more myth than fact. And how embarrassed he is when it is pointed out to him that he just called a forty-something year old man ‘pickle’.

Fred is arrogant, prickly, particular, and both overindulgent and overly judgmental of vices depending on if he himself shares in them. He is a pain to get along with most of the time and sometimes treats the two of them like they’re made of spun gold--things to be cherished and well looked after and shown off to the best of his ability. He’s a contradictory monster and Rafa loves him.

He has a feeling that the smile on his face is sappy and ridiculous, but as he turns the bacon and settles to wait a few more minutes, he shrugs. There isn’t anyone else around this early to see him; his reputation as a son of a bitch and a jackass won’t be ruined. He loves Fred. He loves her. He loves both of them--sometimes so much it’s hard for him to keep it to himself and wait for them to come to the same conclusion. Their individual faults, foibles, and perfections and the way they mesh with each other and fit so surprisingly well in his own life.

Like getting new book recommendations from her--whenever he has the time to actually read something for fun. She leaves them on his home desk with a brief explanation why she thinks he’ll like them. That almost always makes up for the numerous occasions he has gone looking for one of his own books and found it had mysteriously jumped off its shelf and walked itself three rooms over, or managed to find itself completely out of order.

He drains the bacon onto a paper towel covered plate and gives the pan a quick rinse. He loves finding packets of M&M’s in his briefcase or in his suit coat pockets, loves knowing they’re from her and that she braved Fred’s ire to indulge his habit of constant snacking. A habit Fred particularly despises. He loves--most of the time--being a couple minutes late to work some mornings because she got into a nearly incoherent argument with him about what color tie he should wear. He loves that she loves his wardrobe as much as he does.

Rafa loves ganging up with her to tease Fred and loves that she can take some teasing herself. He loves that she just rolls her eyes and plays along when his puckish side emerges and he can’t help but be an asshole even though he can tell she would rather he didn’t.

Rafa starts pouring pancake batter, chuckling to himself when he recalls the mood she’d gotten into the last time his sense of humor had gotten the better of him. While waiting for a table in a restaurant, a strange woman had made a snide comment about ‘men dating women young enough to be their daughters’ and Rafa had been unable to resist feigning outrage and asking what was so terrible about a man taking his daughter out for a nice birthday dinner.

The woman had been mortified, and Rafa had enjoyed the look on her face so much that he’d only hammered the point home further, telling her it was hardly his fault he was a widower and a single parent. He hoped it had taught her a valuable lesson in boundaries. His sweet girl had been so embarrassed but it had been so worth it.

Flipping the first pancake, he thinks about the flaws that come with her youth. She’s always the first one to joke about having daddy issues and Rafa can hardly deny how much he enjoys hearing her call him papi--and Fred daddy--in bed. He just has to try not to think too deeply about it. Not that Rafa really has a leg to stand on where difficult paternal relationships are concerned. But her jokes mask an insecurity and a clinginess that Fred has a habit of overindulging. More than once when he’s been trying to work she’s tried to distract him or cuddle up to him and then gotten sulky when he had to gently but firmly rebuff her.

When he finally finishes work on those evenings, he usually finds her wrapped around Fred instead, giving him a wounded look when he finally emerges from behind his case files. Those looks are wordless guilt trips every time he’s on the receiving end of one--no matter how right he feels in his decision to work instead of play.

And yet somehow she’s worked the same magic on him that Fred has. A flaw that in anyone else would have stopped any idea of a relationship in its tracks is something that he’s come to love about her. Her clinginess comes from a place of emotional fragility and it must be hard to let her partners see that. The fact that she trusts them enough to be so vulnerable around them makes Rafa’s heart swell. He can’t help but love her, even when he’s dealing with her pouting and huffing.

Fred talks about it like Rafa is somehow being ungrateful, that he should drop everything to spend time with his beautiful, smart, young lover, and it drives Rafa crazy. He knows that Fred generally means well when he tries to appeal against his more workaholic tendencies, but he also knows that Fred could retire now and live off his trust fund if he wanted. It rubs him the wrong way when Fred tries to discourage him from working hard because he’s never needed to understand why Rafa works as hard as he does.

He starts stacking the cooked pancakes on a plate on the stove and furrows his brow in concentration. Fred gleefully indulges her in her clinginess, dropping everything to scoop her into his arms or take her to bed. They’ve even taken to napping together with his cock still tucked inside her, as if they can’t bear to be anything other than as close as physically possible. He’s stubbornly blind to the fact that Rafa can’t just drop what he’s doing. If Fred misses a deadline for submitting a journal article the worst that happens is it gets pushed back an issue. If Rafa misses something in his case files or submits something late or fails to prepare as fully as he should, it can ruin lives. Dangerous predators can be let out on the street to offend again. People don’t get the justice they deserve. And even in this day and age, a poor boy with a Spanish name is granted a lot less leeway with employers than a rich boy with a nice American name and family money.

They come from very different worlds, even if Rafa has carefully and thoroughly infiltrated Fred’s, and Rafa loves and hates it a little that Fred forgets that most of the time. Rafa has to always be ‘on’ and can’t afford the same kind of laxness that Fred can.

Sometimes he even has to be ‘on’ at home when he’d rather put his fist through a wall or wrap himself in every blanket in the apartment with a bottle of scotch and pass out. Like when he walks into whichever apartment they’re spending the night at to find Fred in a screaming match with her that he has to moderate. She likes to complain that he and Fred can really get into it like a pair of children, and he isn’t saying she’s wrong—they definitely can—but she and Fred are just as bad. Frankly, the three of them are cut from the same cloth when it comes to being pig headed and it makes for some rather loud and spirited fights.

Like the frequent battles she has with Fred over her occasional smoking habit. They always start out with Fred gently chiding and somehow end up with Fred snidely pulling out his “I went to medical school, therefore everyone else is a moron” voice and her reminding him that he couldn’t cut it as a real doctor and she’ll “smoke a goddamn fucking cigarette every once in a while if she fucking feels like it.” Rafa tries to interfere before it descends to “as much as you like to act like it sometimes, Frederick, you aren’t my father” and “maybe if you knew how to make better choices you wouldn’t be constantly seeking validation from older men,” but he doesn’t always get home in time and instead walks in to the both of them glaring icily at each other or shouting as many deliberately hurtful things as they can.

He likes to leave his courtroom face at work, but it’s generally the only thing that will defuse those battles, or at least calm them down into cold wars. Rafa doesn’t particularly enjoy playing mediator on the best of days, especially not when one wrong word from him will have one or both of them turning on him as another enemy combatant. He likes his occasional cigarette too, and he snacks constantly, and eats terribly; all things that Fred will use to drag him into a fight.

But while he hates trying to calm them down enough to at least stop yelling, he has to admit he loves having people around to yell in the first place. Yes, these fights mean he has to put on his lawyer face when he’d rather get drunk and pass out. But he has people in his life to break up fights between. He can come “home” to people who care about him. People who, when they aren’t screaming, see him come through the door and smile. People who would, and have on occasion, drop what they are doing to bring him something he left at home and needs now. People who drop a sandwich on his desk when he’s working and quietly--most of the time-- leave him to it.

People who care and appreciate him.

Rafa finishes setting plates and cutlery out on the island and starts the coffee maker. He loves having them a few rooms away. He loves knowing that they like him enough to put up with his “shoebox sized apartment”, with him being an incurable workaholic, with the fact that when he gets stressed or angry he lashes out at anyone around him. With the fact that when he does he can be more than a little cruel.

Rafa makes his way back into Fred’s bedroom, wincing as always at how bright it gets when the morning sun fully hits it. He smiles when he sees them still tucked against each other just like he had left them. He loves this view the most.

Rafa grins mischievously. They put up with his innate tendency to be a complete and utter jackass, and that is one more thing he loves about them.

“I just rearranged every single cupboard, bookshelf, and drawer in your entire apartment, Frederick!” Rafa informs the room in general. Loudly.

Fred’s eyes snap open and he sits up, dislodging his sleeping companion without a second glance. His gaze lands on Rafa, who is smirking next to him, and his eyes go comically wide in horror.

“Rafael Barba, you didn’t.”

Tag List: @sassyada, @dreamlover31, @prurientpuddlejumper, @storiesofsvu

#rafael barba x frederick chilton x reader #rafael barba x frederick chilton #frederick chilton x reader #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba #frederick chilton #law and order svu #hannibal #fanfiction #fanfic

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sukunahz · 3 years

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i. been away .

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: what would you do? / a03

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your old friend, eren yeager had been gone for almost an entire year and you and your friends have all but moved on with life. in fact you have barely given him a second thought -- but when he returns, he's not the same passionate frat-boy you once knew; he's a stranger now.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.6k words

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, oral, fingering, eren is kinda’ mean, mentions of alcohol, intoxication and drugs. based on the absolute banger been away by brent faiyaz. i posted this on a03 two months ago and i swear every week my writing changes and when i look back i’m ashamed. i swear the chapters get better 😩

You were barely paying attention to the conversation around you, you were idly fiddling with your completely empty cup since Sasha and Connie had been arguing about the same thing for the past 20 minutes. You knew it was because they had both been tiptoeing around something; they were keeping something from you. What did you expect from the two people closest to you, but you weren't a sensitive, little baby bird? In fact, you had forced yourself to not shed tears over a night that was so insignificant that there was no point for these two to continue on with this desperate charade. “He’s back. Isn’t he?” You stated bluntly, your words were viciously slicing at their conversation. They both remained silent; their clear discomfort was painted vividly onto their expressions as they exchanged worried glances between each other. Eren had been gone for so long that he had faded from you and your friends’ lives completely, he was so easily displaced from your thoughts in such a short amount of time and you had felt the least bit of guilt for it. Time marches on, not even Eren would be able to bend time to his will. Your friends had adjusted to life without their friend, but you could sense the discomfort in celebrating Connie’s birthday in his absence.

“Apparently.” Sasha replied, her gaze darted towards the door as if his return was some impending doom, like a devastating natural disaster that would upset the balance of everything. You wanted to be confused as to why they were hiding this from you, but you knew full well that with the way he disappeared – you would be counting down the days till he returned. Sasha and Connie knew that you were now a minefield and one misstep by anyone would illicit a violently ruinous reaction from you.

“He’s not the same.” Connie added, interrupting your train of thought. “You know how he left… he's -- he's not the same guy.” There was a silence after that, you had lost the energy to keep fighting them about Eren. You could see the disillusion drain into Connie’s face, you weren’t the only one who Eren left, in fact – it was everyone in this room that he had left behind. Those two were inseparable a year ago and now it seemed like Connie could barely string together a sincere sentence about Eren. You couldn’t keep recounting your history with them, a history that was so minuscule that you had no right to expect anything from him -- right? You forced the two to return to their idle conversations, doing anything to drag the conversation away from someone that you had tried so hard to put behind you. There was load music droning through the common area accompanied by smoke from Jean’s vape that was dancing wistfully near the window.

You heard a pause in the atmosphere in the room, there was a break in the cluttered chatter of the house. There he was, speak of the devil -- Eren had finally returned after an entire year, surrounded by a group of people who carried the same troubled and unsettling demeanour as him. You had to force every muscle in your body not to respond to him, since all he did was glance languidly your way before he joined a group of people in the other corner of the room. You felt nimble fingers press a comforting touch upon your thighs as she was still engrossed in her conversation with Connie. “Don’t.” Sasha whispered to you; her gaze was still straight ahead. You scoffed at her warning; she knew you all too well, just how easily you were able to get tangled into Eren’s web.

“I won’t.”

You weren’t over Eren because there was nothing to get over, you had no feelings for him, and not a single thing would change just how much of a brazen jackass he was. The timing of your pep-talk with yourself couldn’t have been better since Eren and his friends found themselves occupying the vacant furniture around Connie, Sasha and yourself. It had been a while since you had even been able to soak in his presence, but you could tell there was a different air to him, he seemed indifferent now, his lids drooping low and he barely paid any attention to the conversations around him. You could hear Armin’s attempts to draw Eren out from his shell, his repeated calls to invite him to participate in the conversations but all Eren could do is brush him off or reply with a simple mumble. How did he manage to be so magnetic; he was surrounded by friends and yet he was completely withdrawn and isolated?

“Hey—” Zeke called out to you, his words were already slurring, and the smell of beer was swimming around the air around him. He was just as rugged as his younger brother and you could tell that he was a part of Eren’s recent downward spiral. Despite bearing the same haunted resemblance as his younger brother, Zeke’s blonde hair is tidy and taken care of in contrast to his unruly facial hair. You could tell that Zeke bears no regard for taming his beard or his alcohol intake, you could also tell that just like Eren, he probably didn't care about much at this point. Lost in your observations, you realised you must have been staring too long as Zeke’s gaze met your own. “You know he almost used up his one phone call at the station on you!” He wrapped his arm drunkenly around Eren’s shoulder. Station? You thought to yourself, did that idiot get himself arrested? You glanced quickly towards Eren and you could see the shame and irritation across his demeanour. He had barely even said a word since he arrived, yet he already looked drained and exhausted.

“Why would he waste a call on me?” You muttered with a roll of your eyes. Your short temper was also about to blow. Why does everyone connect you two together, you were friends before he left and nothing more? No amount of history between you two would change anything, not even one alcohol-fuelled mistake. Eren didn’t owe you anything and he didn’t fail to hammer that notion into you when he left.

“Eren, you might wanna’ take care of your wasted brother before he embarrasses you anymore.” Sasha jested with a tilt of her head, a futile attempt to diffuse the situation. With that, you decide that it would actually be you who embarrassed themselves if you stayed any longer.

“I’m gunna’ get a drink.” You whispered to Sasha before forcing a reassuring smile across your features in order to ensure that she doesn’t follow you. You weren’t in the mood to talk about Eren or whatever the fuck he’s been up to in his long absence. A better person would be concerned for him but all you could do was feel irritation, you heeded Sasha’s warning, you’ve been living your life – dealing with your own baggage and Eren doesn’t get to just return out of nowhere and take the reins of your life again. You pushed yourself onto your feet towards a familiar friend in the hallway.

“Not joining the welcome wagon?” You teased; a conceited sneer etched upon your features as you can see the displeased expression on your friend. You were provoking the obvious bad blood between the two, it was rather petty of you to seek him out for the sole reason of loathing Eren together, but who better to understand than Jean

“My bad, I better hop in the line and give that asshole a proper welcome!” Jean quipped back, his tone was overly dramatic and topped off with a sarcastic roll of his eyes. “I’m actually getting out of here; Connie’s got some weird black pepper flavoured vape that I’ve been dared to try – wanna’ come?”

“Yeah – I’ll join you in a sec’, let my grab my jumper first.” You replied, accepting any invitation that would lead you as far away from the impending disaster that lurks outside the hallways. As Jean made his way downstairs, you entered your room before the comfortable silence was interrupted by an all too familiar voice. The voice was deep and steady, but you noticed it lost its notable flare, the usual effervescence had lifted from him, all that remained was something dark and troubled. You couldn’t recognise who the man standing before you was. He had stray, brunette locks falling on his forehead while the rest of his hair was hastily tied into a bun. His broad physique was framed by an almost entirely black wardrobe with the exception of his large gold key necklace that sat perfectly upon his chest.

“What’s wrong with you?” He dimly asked, he crossed his arms as he pressed his weight against the wall. He had an air of disappointment surrounding him, as if he couldn’t believe that you wouldn’t want to be in his presence, he couldn't believe that you didn't press further on the comment that Zeke made earlier.

“What’s wrong with me?” You challenged him, was he so self-entitled that he thought he could guilt you from walking away from a conversation that you did not want to be a part of. You didn’t want to know what changed Eren and you didn’t care what it was that pulled him away.

“Wanna’ tell me why you’re so pissed?” His expression, or lack of expression didn't change. As your temper rose, Eren’s voice and demeanour stayed the same. Despite his words showing a genuine interest, his voice and mannerisms displayed nothing but a disregard for absolutely anything going on around him. This wasn’t the Eren that you knew, the man that you had known had life and zest spilling from his expressive eyes, he cared about the smallest things around him despite being just as haunted as you were. In fact, it was Eren who was able to keep you from falling into a dangerous spiral, but it looks like he wasn’t able to save himself.

“Fuck off, Eren. Maybe if you could take a hint, you’d realise that you’re the one pissing me off.” The words came carelessly fumbling out from your mouth -- at this point you knew you were overreacting; you could tell he had gone through something, but he owed you much more than he was giving you and you relished the thought of humbling him.

Eren didn't respond to your rant, instead, he drew in a long, sharp breath of air before he stepped towards you. Your chest rose and fell, almost out of breath from your last sentence as you stumbled backwards from his advances, your back crashing against the wall behind you. His arm extended to reach out for the wall behind you as his face creeps in closer towards you. “You and your short temper.” He mumbled to you while you soak in his scent. At least there was something familiar about him, this same scent that you were once tangled in. It’s embarrassing just how easily he’s able to bend you to his will. Just like that you were under his spell again, itching to give him a proper welcome back even though you know he doesn't deserve it. But he was so close and tempting, covered with a new and mysterious aura, maybe it was your distaste and resentment for him that fuelled your next move.

Your hands tugged at the ends of his shirt to pull him closer to you as you connected your lips with his. It was a long and messy kiss when he slipped his tongue inside yours. Eren's movements were hungry, as if he had been starving for days and this was his first taste of food. You could see his features were radiating with passion, the colour from his eyes seeping back in. His movements were so robust compared with the apathetic display he had put on earlier. Just for a second, you could see the person you once knew before. Your arms travelled from the bottom of his shirt to wrap around his neck and Eren slips his arms around your upper thighs, inviting you to wrap your legs around his waist. He didn't break his lips away from you but instead he sends a wet trail of reckless kisses along your neck before he lowers you onto the desk nearby, your legs still wrapped around his body. You were ashamed that you wanted more, didn’t you promise yourself that you wouldn’t let him come back and take over your life again, you put him in the past the second he chose to walk away.

“We shouldn’t do this.” You mumbled; Sasha’s prior warning seemed to have fallen upon deaf ears. There was a room outside full of your friends and one stray noise could end it all for the both of you. Despite your weak attempts to convince yourself that you could walk away from this encounter, your body seemed to have a mind of its own and was telling him the exact opposite. Eren’s lips trailed lower and lower from your neck, to your chest and falling all the way to your thighs. Almost every inch of your skin was covered in his wet trails. Your neck and back arched as soft moans spilled from your unruly lips.

“Tell me to stop then.” He breathes, you peered down on him as his hands rest on your thighs while he was on his knees. You remained silent; however, your hands travel to his hair as an invitation for him to continue on. Eren inches closer and closer towards your centre, his fingers pushing the thin fabric guarding your core to the side. His tongue draws intricate and wet lines across your slit as you emit a loud moan at the sudden sensation. You could feel a forceful wave of euphoria rush through your spine while he keeps a tight hold on your thighs to stop you from squirming. He was assiduous with his ministrations and he didn't remove his tongue when he introduced his fingers to your wet centre, teasing your entrance to get a reaction out of you. You inhaled sharply at the newly added sensation, his tongue and fingers massaging your clit effortlessly.

“Ere—”

“Just shut up…” Eren interrupted, as he pushed two of his fingers into you, dangerously close to being knuckle deep inside you. As if your calls of his name were distracting him from his intricate work. His familiar cockiness has returned, the jovial frat-boy that you once knew was zealously tasting you. His ministrations contained a heightened bravado now and you were finally starting to recognise who the man before you was.

“You’re tighter than I remember.” He observed, his fingers were frozen inside you as his piercing eyes were connected to yours, you knew that he was about to have you wrapped around his finger again.

“Maybe I’m just not as turned on as you think I am?” You challenged, forcing yourself not to bite down on your lip in front of him. With your remark, he quickly pulled his index and middle finger out of your pussy. The movement was so abrupt, and it left you craving all the more from him, just when he was pushing you to arrive to your peak, you came crumbling back down. A punishment for your quip at his sexual prowess.

“Oh really? Why don’t I show you just how wet you are then?” The devilish smirk spread across his lips was almost maniacal, a gesture of his sudden surge of confidence. He wrapped his already wet fingers around your own and lead them towards your now notably, wet pussy. Your fingers lingered there, unsure of what to do as you refused to make eye contact with Eren.

“See for yourself, since I apparently am not up to the task.” You still stalled for a moment, heat racing towards your cheeks, despite you baring your entire body to him, were you so shameless that you would pleasure yourself right in front of him?

“Go on — touch yourself.” This time, Eren’s tone was posed as a dominant command than it was a request. Just when you had thought you had the upper hand; it took just one minute for him to have you at his beck and call again. You hesitantly began to rub around your slit, shame soaked into your thoughts as you realised that you are just as wet as Eren stated.

Quiet moans fell from your lips as Eren smugly watched you have a taste of your own medicine, it was bittersweet since despite the pleasure you were giving to yourself, all you were doing was proving Eren right. Once your high started increasing, he softly wrapped his fingers around yours to stop you from what you were doing before he rammed two fingers inside you abruptly, eliciting a high-pitched yelp from you. His other hand was still wrapped around yours, pinning your arm to the desk to stop you from squirming. “Jealous, are we?” You provoked him; your eyebrow raised to match your goading sentiment.

His pace begun slow as he pulled in and out of you in long and detailed movements, he knew exactly how to build you back up as you responded to his movements with moans and your back arched up against the wall, your arms still pinned down by his free hand. “God, stop playing around.” You called out in frustration, he was playing with you and you knew that he was keeping you just below your boiling point.

“I thought you weren’t turned on?” He questioned; his fingers were moving just slow enough within you. You sat there silent, breaking your eye contact with him and refusing to fuel his ego anymore. However, Eren can see the way your body responds to him. “You want it that badly? Then beg for it.” He removed his fingers from you hastily as he rose from his kneeling position, so his face and body were hovering over you. He was just high enough that the tip of the key hanging off his change was resting comfortably on your chest. Your fingers reached out for the collars on his shirt as you carelessly pulled him even closer to you, your lips angled towards his ear.

“I’m begging you… Don’t you want a taste of me?” You successfully coaxed Eren into returning to your core, however, it was not his fingers that revisited you but his tongue. Your game of cat and mouse continued on as his tongue explored every single crevice of your pussy, his hands were keeping your thighs spread apart and pinned to the desk. Your back arched higher and higher as you quickly approached your climax, your fingers were tangling themselves into Eren’s hair and your chest rising and falling as you were getting ready to cum. Eren’s tongue was hitting all the right spots, it was as if he could read your body like the back of his hand, someone with barely any experience with your body could still bend and twist it to his will. Your body finally released the cluster of sexual tension that Eren had so diligently built up with within you. As you fell back against the desk, Eren rose from his position again, standing up this time as the pad of his thumb narcissistically grazed the bottom of his lip, cleaning up the excess remains of your orgasm.

“You’re right, I did want a taste.” He buttoned the bottom of his shirt back up and ran his hand smoothly through his hair, a futile attempt at cleaning himself up. You knew he was about to walk out, and you should have known better than to try to stop him, you loathed him at that moment and yet your body and perhaps even your heart was yearning for him.

“Eren.” You sat up quickly and reached out for his arm. He stopped in his tracks, not a word left his lips just his wide, emerald gaze staring at yours. “I think you should fuck me—” Before you’re able to provide any explanation his lips had crashed onto yours, yet he remained standing, his arms were cupping your upper neck as you are pulled up to meet his height. You responded instantly; your arms wrapped around his torso as your tongue eagerly crashed against his own.

His lips met your neck, and you knew he was about to plant a blue and purple reminder of this very moment. Despite Eren’s greedy reaction to your kiss, you could sense his hesitation in his movements, and you’ve experienced this before, he’s going to walk away – again. “I can’t…” He whispered into the crook of your neck, halting for a moment before he pressed one final kiss above your now growing bruise before he straightened himself up and walked out of the door. He didn’t even give you one final glance before leaving you alone on your desk and once again you could see all the colour drain from him as he exits. He was about to return to the same brooding and apathetic person he had become. It was embarrassing that you thought one hate-infused tryst in your room would change that, you were never able to change Eren.

You had barely adjusted to the change in pace, one second ago he was tasting every inch of you and the next he was leaving you dazed and confused on your desk. How quickly the loneliness crept into you, why did you need him around you so badly? Hadn’t you just sworn to yourself that you would resist him, you wouldn’t make the same mistakes that you did before? You forced yourself not to delve into the dark mystery that was Eren’s year away, but you know he wasn’t relaxing and getting back in touch with his brother, he had lost himself, getting himself arrested and God knows what else – but for some reason he’s back now?

#i swear the writing improves #been away #but srsly this was only 2 months ago and i already hate this x #eren yeager x reader #attack on titan x reader #eren yeager x reader smut #eren jaeger x reader #tw: smut #tw: drugs #tw: alcohol

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heysatori · 4 years

Note

Can you write about the Bakusquad, you know each of them, where y/n has been through a lot of heartbreaks and is unsure about relationships, but they reassure y/n that they won't do that and everything will be fine? And maybe a little fluff in the end for good measure.

Bakusquad reacting to y/n being scared of getting into a relationship genre: fluff, angst pairings: Bakugou x reader, Kirishima x reader, Sero x reader, Kaminari x reader, Ashido x reader a/n: sorry i responded to this a little late! all ive been doing is watching minecraft streams, watching anime and sleeping while balancing school work ehe (⌒_⌒;) but thank u sm for the request ! i hope this satisfies ur request ! disclaimer that the pictures im using arent mine ! they are from heroacacaps ! so credits to them ! if u guys want to scream at me u can dm me here or on my twitter ! @kodzusan (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ im still accepting requests

Bakugou Katsuki

both you and bakugou were scared of relationships for different reasons

bakugou was scared because he knew how rough he was around the edges, if he was even fit to be in nice relationship

you on the other hand were scared of relationships because of the amount of heartbreaks youve been through

you were cheated on, broken up with, ghosted, and just left hanging

after all those mistakes you learned ur lesson !

so after having bakugou come up to you, courting you in the nicest way possible (giving you a bowl of your favorite food), you didnt know how to react

on surface level, katsuki had quite a few red flags here and there

but since you had gotten to know the boy a little better over the course of time, you learned to understand why he is the way he is

you trusted bakugou

so having him court you was surprising

although u had the fattest crush on him, you still didnt know what to do

so instead of refusing him with no reason, you explained your past to him (parts of which he already knew)

he understood completely, all he wanted was to treat you right and make you happy !!

“listen y/n, i know im a little rough around the edges, but i promise you that i wont do any of that stupid shit to you! all of your exes are absolute fuckin’ dumbasses for doing that to you and im here to treat you right and make you the happiest youve ever been! if you’ll let me”

ヽ( `д´*)ノ <- he blushes a little at the end

although wary, u trust him 1000% !!

so you accept his offer !!

hes pretty shocked that you accepted and instantly pulls you in a hug !

“thank you, i promise you fucking wont regret this”

Kirishima Eijirou

you had honestly fallen for eijirou the moment you met him

but with your considerable bad love life you decided against pursuing after him

but u couldnt help but feel urself get drawn towards him !

and surprise surprise ! you two become great friends !

but as time passes by, ur feelings for him become stronger, which is the total opposite of what u wanted (╯︵╰,)

so its an even bigger surprise when kirishima comes up to you with your favorite flower, asking you to be his significant other

he was so sweet but u were too scared to get into another relationship !

even though u and ur exes were in middle school at that time, those things still hurt you

you explain all of this carefully to the redhead, not wanting to hurt his feelings

he feels tears spring to his eyes as you tell him about your past

he just wants to make you happy !

so without thinking, he pulls you into a hug

“im so sorry that happened to you! you dont have to get with me if your scared! but just know that i wont ever, ever do those things to you! all i want is to make you happy, but its alright if you say no, ill still be here for you no matter what”

overwhelmed with emotions, you end up tearing up as well, melting in his bear hug

not wanting to make such a rash decision in the height of your emotions you tell the red head you’ll think about it (strongly hinting that you want to say yes)

Sero Hanta

sero is a very chill man so your attraction to him was a little unexpected

but you admire him a lot for a lot of things that he does !

u keep ur attraction to him on the down low though

it felt a little one sided for a while

you two barely interacted and he didnt even look at you most of the time

but your relationship with him took a sudden turn and u two became close friends !

you two bonded over mangas that you both read, occasionally spending time in his room to read the latest releases together !

one day, sero invited you to his room to read a romance manga he found out about a few days prior

you come over and end up sharing the book since you didnt have ur own copy

when you and sero reach a panel where the main characters aka the lovebirds finally kissed for the first time, the tall boy looked over to you

“wish i could do this with you” he said gently

NOTHING could explain how surprised u were !!

“are you serious?”

“of course i am”

at this you explain to sero that although you reciprocate the feelings, relationships are a little rocky for you considering your past relationships

sero wraps an arm around you and pulls you to his side, burying his nose in the side of your head

“thats fine, you dont have to say yes, just you knowing that i like you is good enough for me, just know that i wouldnt ever think about doing those stupid things to you, but if i can make you happy now, then im already doing a great job”

Kaminari Denki

kaminari was a very sociable boy !! so it was impossible that you two werent friends after a few months you start to notice the way your cheeks tend to heat up when ur around the blond

other people were also very aware at how when you and kaminari were together, both of you became blushing messes

they didnt talk about it though

they wanted the two oblivious dumbasses to figure it out themselves - ehem bakugou

one day though, kaminari comes knocking at your door, looking ridiculously shy

“uhm hi! i uh, i was, uhm, wondering if you maybe wanted to date me?”

before you could even process what he said, he immediately took it back

“wait no! uhm well i mean i like you a lot, thats why im asking! like a lot alot! i love your smile and your laugh and everything and i just, like making you happy, it makes me super duper ultra happy!”

although u want to accept denkis offer, your horrible dating life was looming over you

with this, you quietly tell denki that you dont think relationships are your thing

he doesnt hesitate to ask you why !

you unwillingly tell him about your stupid relationships and hes quick to retaliate your self degrading words

“hey! you arent stupid alright? you were young, things have changed! you’ve changed! i dont wanna force you into anything but just know, even if im a dumbass i wont treat you like that, ever! in fact, ill even be the best relationship youve ever had!”

he pulls you into a hug not long after, squeezing you tight against his chest

“i trust you, sure, ill date you” (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡

Ashido Mina

mina is a very determined person !

so when she wants something, she’ll get it one way or another

so when she realized her big fat crush on you, she knew immediately that she wanted to date you

and it wasnt just something about you, it was everything about you!

the way you stand, laugh, smile, talk, even if ur just sitting at your desk nodding off into sleep, she still thinks your the most amazing person ever (￣ε￣＠)

she doesnt hesitate to approach you after she is absolutely SURE about her feelings towards you

youre shocked of course, but you couldnt deny that you harbored feelings towards mina either

you reluctantly tell her that although the feelings were mutual, you were still scared of getting into a relationship

she listens carefully as u tell her about your past, rubbing your arm as comfort as you reveal a few of your insecurities

“you didnt deserve any of that, i hope you know that! you dont have to say yes or anything, i dont want you to feel forced or pity, but i can treat you so much better that all of those jackasses! but we dont have to date for that, i can still do those things as a loving and good friend!”

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goldenraeofsun · 4 years

Text

Symmetria

A 15x18 fix-it, set post-series

Also available on AO3

Dean doesn’t make an immediate trip to the Empty when all’s said and done with Chuck. He takes his time getting used to his new gig as capital D Death. Billie, of course, did not see fit to leave him a training manual. Instead Dean gets a squad of whiny angels (reapers, but still) to manage and a bajillion books to read, so he does his best to channel his inner Cas and get the job done.

It’s nothing like that day old Death brought him along on Take Your Human to Work Day. For one, Dean's been to Heaven, so he’s not as torn up about reaping kids and good people. He can tell them with complete honesty, You’re gonna be in a better place. Heaven's awesome. No cryptic bullshit when Dean’s holding the scythe.

For another, he’s also been to Hell, and Rowena herself set him straight on her plans for the place. Sending dead scumbags and murderers down to her is the highlight of his day.

It’s still exhausting work, and he gets why Billie thought it would be a better punishment than killing him outright. He can never rest, never find peace, since there’s always a job to do. Death and taxes, and all that.

Not that Dean wanted to kick the bucket before his little brother. But now Sam’s capital G God, so they’ll both be hanging around for a while longer. When Dean reaps him, Dean’ll give one of his lackeys the scythe, and they’ll both party it up in the Empty.

Oh, and he’ll reap Jack too, since Dean can’t reap God without the Darkness. Balance, as those damn books keep telling him.

“Hey.” Dean stomps his snowy feet on the welcome mat. He hikes his take out bags higher in his arms.

Eileen signs hello. “How are things?”

Dean grins as they make their way to Sam and Jack in the kitchen. “Sent a Wall Street embezzler down to Rowena before I got here.” He knocks hard on the table with his knuckles to get Sam and Jack’s attention.

Jack looks up from the textbook they both had been pour over, beaming. “Dean’s here.”

“Already?” Sam’s gaze darts to the clock above the oven.

Dean drops the food on the table. “It’s Sunday dinner! I wouldn’t miss it since you’d probably starve without me.” He pulls out a chair and flips the book to his side of the table. He scans it with mild interest. “What’re you working on?”

“History!” Jack says brightly. “I’m learning about ancient Rome.”

Dean turns to Sam. “You know, you could just take him to see Caesar, right? Or I could. Rowena gave us an all-access pass.”

Sam bitchfaces at him. “That’s not the point, Dean.”

“The point is to learn critical thinking and rhetorical skills without supernatural assistance,” Jack says, and obviously those aren’t his words judging by the proud look on Sam’s face.

Eileen shakes her head, signing emphatically, “I don’t know if that counts if God is helping with your homework.”

“I’m just supervising!” Sam protests.

Dean snorts. "Uh huh."

Jack peers at the takeout bags with interest. “What did you bring for dinner, Dean?”

“Russian,” Dean says with a grin as Jack pulls out a container of pierogies. “Borscht, stuffed cabbage, and stroganoff. Plus some vegetable thing. I don’t know - it was all in Russian.”

Sam rolls his eyes since a little thing like a language barrier isn’t really a problem for them anymore. They’re all fluent in ASL from a snap of Sam’s fingers. He had first offered to restore Eileen’s hearing, but she politely declined. Being Deaf is part of her identity, apparently, just like keeping his stupid Jesus hair is Sam’s.

“This looks delicious,” Eileen signs as she gets to her feet to grab plates. Jack hops up too, making a bee-line for the cutlery drawer.

Sam tosses Jack’s homework on the empty seat at the table. “How’re you doing?”

“Fine,” Dean says. He pulls the stroganoff closer for first dibs.

Sam narrows his eyes as he accepts a plate from Eileen. “You sure?”

“What?” Dean makes a face. “It’s true.”

“I think you can aim a little higher than fine,” Sam says exasperatedly. “You’re a universal constant who has Sunday dinner with two cosmic beings. Plus Eileen.”

“I do only come here for Eileen,” Dean acknowledges solemnly.

Eileen winks at him as she sits back down. Jack laughs.

“There’s gotta be something else you want out of this,” Sam says, gesturing around them.

The one thing I want, is something I know I can’t have.

Dean swallows down the lump in his throat and dumps stroganoff on his plate. He deliberately does not look at the empty chair to his right, currently occupied by Jack’s homework.

“It’s too soon,” he grunts.

“Is it?” Sam asks, eyebrows raised. “You’ve got your reapers under control. I’ve created enough new angels to run Heaven without blackouts. Jack’s got a handle on his Darkness powers and settled in at school. There’s literally been no better time.”

Dean sighs. “What if something happens?” He looks at each of them in turn. “We’ve finally got something good going for us.”

Jack makes a face like he killed yet another plant without meaning to. “But is it really good without Cas?”

* * *

Dean has lost count of the number of times he’s replayed Cas’s final moments on Earth in his head. He has also lost count of his regrets. There were so many times he could have said something, done something. Been the loving man Cas talked about in his goodbye.

But he isn’t.

He can’t love Cas. If Dean did, he would have caught on a hell of a lot sooner. Wouldn’t have waited or held back. Wouldn’t have, for the first time in that moment, questioned whether Cas could feel something as human as that. For him, of all the mud monkeys on planet Earth.

Instead, he just stood there like a jackass and let Cas get taken away by black goo again.

Love is sacrifice. Cas hammered that point home like no demon deal, no trials, no soul bomb ever has.

But Dean’s a Winchester, and if their family is known for anything, it’s throwing sacrifices back in each other’s faces - spitefully, lovingly.

Sam and Eileen hit the books. Jack writes down all he remembers about his time in the Empty.

It takes two weeks to come up with a spell to take out the Empty, or, at least, temporarily cut it off at the knees.

Dean, Sam, and Jack head back to the Bunker. Technically, Dean still lives there, but he’s usually all over the country, carrying out his Deathly duties. He hasn’t spent the night since they took out Chuck. After the adrenaline crash, he just sat back with his brother-turned-God at the war table and wondered if this’ll be the rest of their supernaturally long lives. Neither of them said much.

They prep the spells in the kitchen before heading down to the dungeon - the most secure room in the Bunker. Dean, tense as a coiled spring, tries to keep up with the laughs and jokes, but Sam keeps shooting him knowing looks.

“You good?” Sam asks as they get ready for the last seps.

Dean, his mouth dry, can only nod.

They prop up the bowl of ingredients on an old filing cabinet, and Jack stands by with Empty bombs (based on Kevin’s demon bombs). Sam bleeds into the bowl and reads out the Enochian.

The whole Bunker rumbles ominously, before the overhead lights pop out, one by one.

Dean almost laughs - or cries. Hard to tell in the dark.

Shadows bubble up from the middle of the floor, blacker than anything else in the room. Dean adjusts his grip on his scythe, waiting with bated breath as the tarry, otherworldly substance takes a humanoid shape.

It settles on a body and a face, and Dean sees red. He stabs it straight in its trenchcoated chest, right where its heart would be.

The Empty stares down at the blade, its expression turning to wry amusement. “I believe the saying is ‘deja vu’?”

“Shut up,” Dean hisses. He yanks his scythe back as, behind him, Sam snaps his fingers. A few of the lights repair themselves. To the Empty, Dean growls, “Wear someone else’s face.”

The Empty bristles like it’s almost offended. “No?”

Sam pulls Dean behind him before Dean can stab it again. “Hi,” he says loudly over Dean’s angry spluttering, “I know we got off on the wrong foot last time, but-”

“Wrong foot?” the Empty interrupts, head tilting.

Dean’s fingers tighten around his scythe. How dare that thing wear Cas’s face, do Cas’s thing, talk like Cas. Only Sam’s arm in front of his chest stops Dean from surging forward and finishing what he started.

“Yeah,” Sam says with a warning look at Dean. “In Death’s library - well, old Death. Dean uses a hard drive to store all his books of fate now. Look, you’re probably still pissed I woke you up, but all we need is one thing, and then we won’t bother you again.”

“Oh,” the Empty says. Its forehead furrows in a way Dean had seen on Cas too many times. The burning ache of regret flares with a new heat, and Dean glares murderously at the Empty as it says, “That wasn’t me.”

Sam’s mouth opens and closes. “What?”

The Empty clears its throat. “You met the old Empty. Billie and I killed it before she died.”

“The Empty can die?” Dean asks roughly.

It nods, its attention turning to Dean almost hungrily. “It was weakened from Jack’s explosion. Billie didn’t want to help me, naturally. But if the last Empty was still in charge, Billie’s final rest would have been far from peaceful.” It smiles. “I could also guarantee she would never have to see any of us ever again.”

“And who’re you?” Dean demands.

The smile drops off the Empty’s face. “You don’t know? After all this time?”

Dean swallows, a terrible, wonderful hope struggling to breathe in his chest. He tries, his voice almost a whisper. “Cas?”

The Empty nods, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean turns to Sam for verification because there’s no fucking way Dean trusts himself anymore when it comes to Cas. But Sam’s face reads nothing but mingled relief and joy, so -

Dean lets the scythe drop with a clatter and strides forward on shaky legs. Cas tenses like he’s bracing for impact. “It’s alright,” Dean tells him in a low voice as he squeezes tight. Cas is real, alive (or alive as any of them are at this point), and back in the Bunker where he belongs. “I got you, Cas.”

Cas sighs, an exhale of bone-deep weariness. He buries his face deeper in the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean holds on even though it’s been way too long for a normal hug. But hell, Cas fucking loves him. Cas can deal with a little extra hug time.

Sam coughs pointedly as he steps up for his own hug. “It’s good to have you back, man.”

Cas smiles as he accepts a few manly back slaps from Sam.

Jack rushes forward for his turn.

“Jack,” Cas says reverently as he wraps his arms around him. “You’ve done so well.”

“Thank you,” Jack says, his voice cracking. “I missed you, Cas.”

Cas just shakes his head, overcome with emotion. “I’m very happy to see you.” He mutters a few words, too low for any of them to hear, as he disentangles himself from Jack’s arms. He looks around at the three of them. “I’d say you all are doing very well for yourselves.”

Grinning, Dean picks up his scythe and gives it a little spin. “Gee, what gave it away?” He sobers as Cas doesn’t say anything, just stares at him with an unreadable expression on his face. “But you already knew that,” Dean surmises.

“Chuck told me.”

Sam's eyes go wide. “Chuck?”

“When he died, he was sent to the Empty,” Cas says shortly. “To me.”

Sam grimaces. “Sorry.”

Cas’s lips press together in a thin line. “It took forever for him to shut up. I suppose I should have expected it.” He sighs. “Chuck always did pride himself on being a storyteller.”

“And a dick,” Sam adds.

“Chuck told me about how you defeated him - his ‘greatest creations’,” Cas quotes sourly, “and about the cosmic consequences, which included a changing of the guard - God, the Darkness, Death,” he shakes his head, adding, “the Empty.”

“This was his plan?” Dean growls, his voice a mixture of anger and surprise. But his rage dies as Cas slowly shakes his head.

“Not exactly, but he said he could appreciate the symmetry.”

“Of course he could.” Dean runs a hand down his face. “Jesus Christ, please tell me that’s the end of him.”

“I have complete control over the Empty,” Cas assures, “He isn’t waking up any time soon.”

“Oh,” Dean says awkwardly, “good. That’s good.”

Reluctantly, Cas tears his gaze away from Dean. He straightens, his mouth set determinedly, and asks Sam, “There was something you wanted?”

Sam shakes his head, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Not anymore.”

Cas’s brow furrows. “If you need anything from the Empty, I can give it to you.” He glances at each of them in turn. “As I told you once, I am always happy to bleed for the Winchesters.”

“No,” Dean chokes out before Sam or Jack can get a word in, “No goddamn bleeding - of any kind. Just, no.”

Cas’s frown deepens.

Sam grins. “We were gonna ask the Empty to wake you up. So I guess… we’re good.”

Cas blinks a few times in confusion. “You wanted… me?”

Jack throws him an incredulous look. “You’re a part of us, Cas. Of course we wanted you here.”

* * *

Dean makes burgers for dinner. Even though none of them need to eat, they’re far too used to it to stop. By the stove, he listens with half an ear as Jack peppers Cas with updates on the new world order and high school. Every once in a while, Sam’s voice comes through with a few modifiers and anecdotes.

Jack turns in first, complaining about leftover homework.

Sam takes off next, saying he promised to buy bread and eggs on the way home to Eileen. He leaves Dean and Cas alone in the Bunker’s kitchen.

Neither of them say anything as Sam’s footsteps fade up the stairs to the exit. Dean steadily keeps his eyes trained on the half-empty beer bottle spinning around in his hands. Cas sits next to him at the table, happy as a fucking clam to sit in silence, staring at Dean like he’s a goddamn miracle.

It’s too much.

This is why Dean didn’t jump to bring Cas back to the land of the living. It tore him apart inside, like metaphorical hellhound claws digging into his gut. Sure, Cas deserved to be topside. Cas deserved to have his happy ever after like the rest of Team Free Will 2.0. What Cas didn’t deserve, was a man with his head so far up his own ass he couldn’t muster up three measly words when they mattered most. And Dean had no idea how to tell Cas any of that.

“Dean,” Cas breaks the silence first because for all he said in his big goodbye speech, Dean’s a fucking coward. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again,” he clears his throat, “so I didn’t anticipate the position I would put you in by showing up. I apologize.”

Dean turns to him, alarmed. “No, don’t apologize. It’s my - I should have - you were - son of a bitch.” He presses his lips together so he doesn’t go blurting something stupid like you were so wrong about me; it fucked me up for a while.

“It’s okay,” Cas says gently. “I’ve seen Jack and you and Sam. That’s all I wanted since I left. Truly.”

Dean sucks in a breath, his pulse spiking with fear. “That sounds like another goodbye. I don’t - I don’t think I can take another one of those from you.”

Cas blinks. “You want me to stay?”

Dean’s mouth works furiously before he demands, “You don’t want to?”

“No,” Cas draws out slowly like he’s concerned for Dean’s sanity, “but if my presence-”

“Stop,” Dean holds up a hand, “just ‘cause I don’t know what to say to you -” liar “- doesn’t mean you have to get exiled from the whole planet. You saved the world, the same as us. The very least you get is free rent for eternity.”

“If you say so,” Cas says doubtfully.

“Jack would be real upset if you fucked back off to the Empty for the rest of time,” Dean adds. “He’s studying the Roman Empire and could use some help from someone who was there.” He takes a sip of beer, and fuck cosmic tolerances. He could drink a whole liquor store and not feel anything.

The corners of Cas’s mouth twitch. “I was actually stationed in China during that time. I would be a minor help at best.”

“Then make it up,” Dean says with a grin. “It’s not like Jack will know the difference. And if his teachers call him out on it, Sam can wave his magic wand and make it true anyway. All hail President Clinton.”

Cas snorts. “That would be one way to help, I suppose.”

Dean drains his beer, a purely instinctual response, before he starts, “You’ve levelled up. Got a power upgrade as the Empty.” At Cas’s tentative nod, he goes on, “You could’ve said something, dude. Given us some sign. I - we all thought you died. For good.”

“I cannot come to Earth without being summoned,” Cas says heavily.

Dean makes a face. “Rules like that never stopped any of us before.”

“You could have performed the summoning ritual at any time - all the cards were in your hands.” Cas’s gaze drops to the table. “I thought you didn’t want to see me.”

Dean shakes his head vehemently. “That wasn’t the case at all.”

“But you said you don’t know how to talk to me,” Cas points out.

Dean swallows. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want you around. I didn’t know how to talk to you when you were cuckoo for cocoa puffs, when you had fucking amnesia. Hell, it was even weird when you were human. But things are… better with you here. No matter what.”

“Really?” Cas asks, the doubt clear in his voice.

“Of course,” Dean says gruffly. “You gotta know that.”

“I didn’t.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean says as he gets up for another drink - old habits, “now you do.”

“Do you still believe this?” Cas presses.

“Never doubted it for a second,” Dean promises as he sits back down.

“Even after you sent me away?” Cas asks quietly.

“Hey,” Dean says sharply, “You made that choice to walk out that door.” But that old anger doesn’t survive long in the wake of the look on Cas’s face. Dean smiles humorlessly as he twists the cap off. It clatters to the table, the sound echoing around the empty kitchen. “But, yeah, that was me being angry over a bunch of shit that was out of our control. Not you. You just happened to be in my line of fire.” Dean takes a long pull from the bottle. “What a guy to fall for, huh? Blames you for everything that goes wrong and makes you think you’re better off gone.”

Cas freezes. “So we’re talking about it?”

Dean raises his eyebrows, half in surprise at himself. “Guess so.”

“Nothing has to change,” Cas assures him. “The only difference is you know about my feelings for you.”

“How long have you had them?” Dean asks with a casual air that’s one-hundred percent, Grade-A bullshit.

Cas presses his lips together as he thinks. “Since you took me to that brothel.”

Dean chokes on his drink. “Seriously?”

Cas ducks his head, a surprisingly human gesture of embarrassment. “I didn’t know it then,” he says in a low voice, “all I knew was that I wanted to impress you. I had never felt that way about anyone before, except God.”

“Gross, man.”

Cas purses his lips. “Not like that.” He sighs. “But I suppose it happened the year I made that deal with Crowley.” He reaches for his own beer bottle, long emptied sometime in the middle of dinner. He spins it between his fingers contemplatively. “I told myself I made the deal to make the world safer for you, so you could live out your retirement in peace. But it was just a convenient ploy to keep myself busy. You didn’t need me for the first time since Hell.” He presses his lips together. “My love for you made me reckless and blind, as approximately 231,600 love songs could have told me, if I had bothered to listen to any of them.”

Dean chuckles. “It probably would have been better if you just had an emo phase.” At Cas’s frown of confusion, Dean waves it off, “Forget it. It’s water under the bridge anyway.” He sips his beer. “Since the Purgatory deal? That’s a long time.”

“Not for an angel,” Cas counters. “I’m extremely old.”

Dean snorts a laugh. “Touché.”

“You’re not going to ask why I never told you before?”

Dean shakes his head. “You made that pretty clear in your little goodbye speech. ‘The one thing I want, is something I know I can’t have’,” he rattles off the phrase that had been bouncing around his skull for the past month and a half.

Cas bites his lip, a shade of hurt lurking behind his eyes at hearing his words parroted back to him. “I had always known my feelings were fruitless. Telling you was more of an act for myself than for you,” he says to the table, “but I didn’t think I would be around to know what that meant for us.”

“I get that,” Dean says haltingly, “but they’re not.”

“They’re not what?”

Dean forcibly lets go of his empty beer bottle because he’s going to shatter it if he says this next bit with glass between his hands. “Your feelings. They’re not fruitless. They’re, uh, pretty fucking fruity.”

Cas’s mouth opens and closes, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Is that a dated and offensive reference to homosexuality?”

“What?” Dean yelps, “No!”

Cas sits there, nonplussed.

“Your feelings,” Dean says through gritted teeth. “What you want. You can have it.”

Cas makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t,” Dean mutters. “Even with all of history crammed in your noggin, you don’t get it. Fine.” He shifts in his seat so he can face Cas fully. “Let me clear things up for you. Just… smite me if I cross a line.”

“Dean,” Cas protests, “As the Empty, I can’t smite any-”

Dean cuts him off with a kiss.

As far as first kisses go, it’s passable. Cas clearly has some experience - he doesn’t go straight for the tongue, but he’s frozen for so long, Dean almost pulls away to check if he drastically miscalculated. But Cas exhales, tentative hands wrap around Dean’s forearms, and he pulls Dean in closer. Dean smiles against his mouth, small puffs of laughter escaping as Cas’s nose bumps against his. He cups Cas’s jaw in one hand, and Cas lets out a little sigh, melting the last few layers of Dean’s reservations about this whole business.

It’s the promise in the kiss that makes it awesome. This isn’t their end. For once, the world isn’t on fire, and they’re not playing catch up with an apocalypse.

It’s just them, Death and the Empty.

The Endgame for every human, angel, and demon on Earth.

Suck it, Chuck. That’s fucking symmetry.

#destiel fanfic #profoundnet #destiel #Death Dean #God Sam #Darkness Jack #s15 #15x18 spoilers #post 15x18 #post series #reunion #fanfic #rae writes fic #15x18 fix it #episode fix it

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words-writ-in-starlight · 4 years

Note

Untamed TAZ Balance AU? Don't have to write anything, just consider that (is Wen Ning Lucretia in this or is he too nice for that)

NHS IS LUCRETIA, NHS IS ABSOLUTELY LUCRETIA, I HAVE THOUGHTS, my girlfriend yelled at me for these thoughts. Hell this got long, I’ve literally been saving it in my drafts until Tumblr fixed the Read More issue.

WWX is Taako, JC is Magnus, WQ is Merle, JYL is in the umbrella (became a lich to keep her brother from doing it), WN is the Red Robe (became a lich because he thought it seemed reasonable), NHS is Lucretia, XXC is Davenport, LWJ and LXC are mutually Kravitz (LXC sets his bro up with the death criminal wizard), Wen Zhuliu is John Vore, LSZ is Angus but also a baby Reaper

ONE

So Wei Wuxian isn’t really a wizard, is the thing. Like, he does the wizard magic, and apparently he has strong Wizard Vibes because wherever he travels, people ask him if he can solve their magical bullshit problems, but he’s, like, barely a wizard. He’s an inventor, technically, except that a few years back some stuff went explosively awry while he worked with this traveling show and–yeah. So he’s working as a wizard because, hey, he can cast Magic Missile and he needs to eat and he’s an Evocation specialist, anyway, so it’s not like he’s out here making food from rocks. He’s hired on with a couple other random jackasses, a fighter who took a dislike to Wei Wuxian right off the bat and a cleric with a bad temper and an itchy Sacred Flame finger, and they’re doing a job for some dwarf, or whatever. The dwarf has a guy hired on as muscle, but he doesn’t look like much, all wide eyes and baby face. He calls himself Qionglin, no last name, and stares at Wen Qing like he’s never seen a cleric before, and Jiang Cheng spends the entire trip to Phandolin messing with his whip, which is the stupidest weapon Wei Wuxian has ever seen.

Well, then everything immediately goes horribly wrong, though, and turns out that Jiang Cheng is pretty okay with that whip. Qionglin (Wei Wuxian spoke to the man all of one time, but he was sweet, if a little awkward) gets himself kidnapped by a bunch of goblins, and their employer is gods-know-where with whatever a Black Spider is, and suddenly this very boring escort mission is a very not boring rescue mission.

There’s a skeleton in the cave. Wei Wuxian takes an umbrella from it, and it crumbles into dust beneath its red robe. There’s a very annoyed man with a sword who calls himself Song Lan and speaks in static, and he’s somehow not the weirdest part of this whole day.

Phandolin doesn’t survive its brush with the Zidian Gauntlet, and neither does Qionglin. Wen Qing screams when he dies, and Wei Wuxian grabs her under the arms with Jiang Cheng and books it for the empty well in Song Lan’s wake, and they just hide.

And then they go to the goddamn moon, apparently.

TWO

The goddamn moon is run by an older man with hair still a glossy black, toying with a beautifully painted white fan in his hand. He calls himself the Director and–after some testing–hires them more or less on the spot. Something flickers over his face when Wen Qing, bemused by her own upset, makes an offhand mention of a man named Qionglin who died when the Gauntlet brought down so much lightning that it turned Phandolin into black glass. But it’s not Wei Wuxian’s problem, so he doesn’t worry himself over it too much. He takes the payment offered to him by the Director’s aide, a blindfolded, stunningly handsome man in Bureau blue and white who rests his hand on his own chest and says “Xiao Xingchen” and not another word.

The Bureau is–weird. They’ve got a giant jellyfish and a store run by–something Wei Wuxian Does Not Trust and a dorm. Wei Wuxian laughs and kicks Jiang Cheng cheerfully in the ankle and says “Just like college, huh?” and Jiang Cheng gives him a dark look and snaps “I never went to college.”

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian says, blinking. “Me neither.”

Whatever. They go on a train adventure and there’s a kid, a kid who blinks and stares at Wei Wuxian like he’s seen a goddamn ghost and immediately walks up to introduce himself as Lan Sizhui, boy detective.

Wei Wuxian fucking loves this kid. He’s not sure why this wide-eyed fifteen-year-old latched onto him so hard, but he’s smart, funny, loyal, and extremely easy to pick on. 13/10 child rating, in Wei Wuxian’s book.

(Sizhui, for his part, more or less kicks down the door to his father’s offices in the Astral Plane the second the Reclaimers are gone and shouts “I HAVE A LEAD ON WHAT HAPPENED TO THE WORLD.”)

(His father, Lan Wangji, the Grim Reaper, is very interested to hear all about it–especially when his son casually name-drops three of the biggest bounties that the Raven King, his adoptive elder brother, has ever sent him after, with the exception of that absolutely insufferably sweet-tempered lich Wen Ning.)

THREE

So…the Crystal Kingdom.

Is it Wei Wuxian’s finest hour, shouting obscure tentacle-related threats at the second crystal construct they’ve seen in the past twenty minutes? No, probably not. But it’s been a stressful day, they’re already down one Regulator and Song Lan is fuck-knows-where with Mianmian and, again, this is the second menacing crystal construct they’ve seen in twenty minutes. Or maybe it’s the same one?

Whatever, doesn’t matter. They’re here to hunt down Meng Yao, a scientist who’s been dicking around with some seriously ill-advised necromancy and also the Philosopher’s Stone, and a crystal construct or two isn’t going to stop them.

Wei Wuxian actually physically cannot help himself, though, when the Reapers appear in the mirror, a matched set of beautiful men, and he grins broadly at the one glaring at him most viciously. They get let go on a technicality, along with a conduit still containing Meng Shi’s memory of a vision beyond the cosmos, and Meng Yao leaves with his life and not much more.

Later, Lan Wangji is absolutely betrayed by the realization that his brother willfully set him up to be the primary go-between for the completely breathtaking deeply irritating wizard-by-way-of-death-criminal. And that’s before the whole lich revelation. (He does get a kiss, though, after he watches his brother pulled under by the Hunger. That’s nice. He hopes Wei Wuxian will mitigate the death crimes now that they’re dating.)

FOUR

The seven Relics are as follows:

The Zidian Gauntlet, which can generate a lightning blast so powerful that it can obliterate an entire city. (Jiang Cheng–he watched the others try to lay in protections, try to make their Relics harmless, and he knew it wouldn’t work. All the Gauntlet does is damage. It can melt a city down to black glass, but it can’t be twisted, it can’t be made into any more of a nightmare than it already is. He’s a fighter. He knows all about damage, knew all about what he was making. That doesn’t mean it didn’t kill him by inches to watch it leave a path of destruction–so much that his beloved jiejie tried to seal it away.)

The Oculus, which can make any construct real. (Xiao Xingchen–Nie Huaisang didn’t take everything. He doesn’t remember the mission, or his own past. Something strange got confused in the process, and he lost most of his speech. But he remembers how to fight, handles his sword as cleanly and effectively as ever, and he remembers that he doesn’t think much of Nie Huaisang’s combat skills. Or maybe it’s just really obvious that Nie Huaisang isn’t much of a fighter. Regardless, Xiao Xingchen insisted on accompanying him, before–before. Then they went into the Felicity Wilds, and…Xue Yang is honestly delighted. He’s never managed to ruin someone so badly on the way into Wonderland before. It’s just a shame that Nie Huaisang sent Xiao Xingchen away before they reached the doors.)

The Healer’s Sash, which can manipulate natural forces like the wind, the tides, and tectonic plates just as easily as it can manipulate a heartbeat or a pair of lungs. (Wen Qing–she prays to Pelor, the Dawnfather, the healer and Lord of Light, but she’s long since lost her faith in him as anything but a contracted boss. It’s a shock to everyone including her when she’s granted a right arm made of glass and magic after losing it. She was so determined to make a Relic that could be used for good, but–well. She supposes she should have known better.)

The Philosopher’s Stone, which can more or less transform anything into anything. (Jiang Yanli–she’s a Transmutation wizard, she’s been feeding the crew of the Starblaster for a hundred years on whatever she can pull together. If the right person found the Stone, it would have ended world hunger. The wrong person found the stone. Jiang Yanli tried her damnedest to hunt it down, but she found the Gauntlet first, and, well–she already became a lich to stop one younger brother from doing it. It’s not a struggle to decide that she’s going to take responsibility for saving Jiang Cheng from his own guilt. Then things go horribly wrong, and she spends the next twelve years in an umbrella.)

The Temporal Chalice, which offers complete control over time. (Wen Ning–he was a strict scholar until his sister was contacted about the IPRE’s creation, but he always did want to travel, and his theories about bonds were too good for Xiao Xingchen to pass up having on his crew. Everything he’s done since they lost their home system has been about trying not to leave his family, about trying for second chances, he became a lich for them, he’s done everything to stay with them, of course his Relic is a second chance generator.)

The Animus Flute, which offers control over the spirits of the dead and, in the hands of a sufficiently competent expert, the living. (Wei Wuxian–he’s watched his brother, his sister, his friends, die so many times. He’s terrified of immortality, but he’s most terrified of being alone. He meant to make something that could keep the dead present, so that they would never have to fear being left behind again. Watching it rip Jiang Cheng’s soul clean out of his body in Xue Yang’s hands is the worst thing Wei Wuxian can remember, even after everything is over.)

The Bulwark, which Nie Huaisang never did explain to anyone, but took the shape of a hand-painted fan. (Nie Huaisang lost the only person who mattered to him when the Hunger ate their home, and then as he slowly, painstakingly, rebuilt something like a family, he had to watch them suffer and die for a hundred years. And then he watched them win, and grieve like dying all over again for the winning. He’s sorry they suffered for his actions. He’s not sorry for what he did.)

FIVE

Wen Zhuliu didn’t mean to make his whole plane give up. But he had spent his whole life being used, and it all just seemed so pointless. It all just seemed so pointless. There was always someone stronger, always something bigger, always a rule he couldn’t break, always something, and he started talking, started telling people as much, and--

Wen Qing is about the farthest thing in the fucking world from a peacemaker by nature, if you ask her, but she’s a healer first, last, and most of all. And, she thinks as she watches the sun sink with a very tired man crumbling away at her side, she might be the only person in the worlds who ever noticed that Wen Zhuliu needed a healer.

(They aren’t from the same plane, but--some of the others have found distant family, on their new home. It’s an unanswerable question, if they might have been family, a few dimensions removed. Wen Ning still thinks about it.)

#the untamed #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #taz balance #taz au #starlight writes stuff #*sprints into the room with this au multiple months late and completely out of breath* H E R E #this has been languishing in my drafts for. mm. ever.#i don't even remotely remember enough of my original thoughts about it to provide a lot of tags #but i do have a case for why wzl is john vore (and it's NOT just that i think he's interesting)#i could've made jgy the hunger BUT the plot of taz requires some...reconciliatory ending structure?#and honestly nhs still being something of a puppet master means that i couldn't justify that with jgy #i needed a villain less close to nhs' heart. so i thought about xue yang but i like him as the wonderland lich TOO MUCH.#so instead i thought about who i should make the parlay person--first instincts were jyl and wn because they're Nice #but then i decided that i didn't actually need Nice nearly so much as i needed Invested #and by god can wen qing Invest #so okay--if she was going to do the parlay then i didn't need someone who could be talked around i needed someone who needed a healer #so: wen zhuliu #i don't have to justify myself to you fools #also jgy is always everyone's biggest bad so he can let someone else have a turn #jyl develops a crush on a completely socially awkward rogue from inside an umbrella by the way!#pour one out for jzx because he is NOT equipped for an ethereal woman of violet fire to blush at him #a queue we will keep and our honor someday avenge #thishazeleyeddemon #asked and answered

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fanfalc-616 · 3 years

Text

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Nineteen

(Prevoius Chapter Here)

This AU is basically a collab with @ablackswansweet at this point-

Zane huffs out a weak breath, and it’s clear that he’s tiring from the way they’re hurting him. “I am equal to any human. This will not be changing any time soon.” Despite his obvious exhaustion, he still manages to sound strong and determined.

Shifting awkwardly, Cryptor glances over at Kyle. Apparently he’s been behaving well enough for them to take the chains off, but he still has no idea why the brat brought him to one of Zane’s training sessions.

Kyle seems surprised by the defiance, even a little amused. "I'm… Actually really surprised you'd say that now, after all the trouble you went through last time. Guess it's still not sinking in…”

Then he looks at Cryptor. “General?" He prompts.

Cryptor blinks. “What?”

He’s… actually not sure what Kyle wants from him, but he’s got a sinking feeling that says it’s not going to be good.

Kyle frowns, looking annoyed. "What do you mean, 'what'? I thought it was obvious. Aren't you supposed to be a very high-quality AI?"

Cryptor grinds his teeth. “I am a high-quality AI. You didn’t exactly expl-“ He stops before finishing the rude remark. “I, uh. I didn’t quite understand you… Master.”

The title feels like fire on his tongue, but he forces it out, hating how often he’s had to use it recently. These fuckers aren’t his ‘Masters’- he’s his own person and doesn’t belong to anyone.

… if only the law agreed with him.

Shaking his head, Kyle sighs. "Can't believe I'll have to spell it out for you. You used to be more fun than that- Anyways, Original here is acting up. Again. So what you are going to do, like a good assistant, is punish it. Understood, now?"

Kyle’s slightly passive aggressive smile is unnerving, but it’s the furthest thing from his mind at the moment.

He wants Cryptor to be the one to hurt Zane? He wants him to hurt his friend?

“I… I can’t… Kyl-“ He once again cuts himself off as he fumbles for words. “Master, I- I can’t do that. I can’t- no.” He comes to his conclusion. “No, I won’t.”

Kyle’s expression darkens some, a clear threat in his tone as he speaks. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Are you defying a direct order from your Master, nindroid?"

Opening his mouth to speak, Cryptor finds himself being cut off.

“If you are going to hurt me, do it yourself!” Zane snaps, a sharp edge to his tone as he seems to have regained some of his bearings. “Don’t bring him into this!”

With a scowl, Kyle looks over at Zane. "Shut up, scrap metal. Another peep from you or it and it's the sensory room.” He then turns his attention back to Cryptor.

“Now, General, last chance. Punish it now, or I'll take away the thing you're so desperate to protect that you'd give up your precious dignity." The threat in his tone is unmistakable, but all Cryptor can see is the fear on Zane’s face that he’s struggling to hide by pretending to be angry- though some of the anger is likely real.

Cryptor can’t think. He doesn’t know what to do here. He has to obey, he has to, but…

“I… that’s not…” He finds himself stumbling with his words just as much as he is in his mind. But after a few moments, he manages to come to a conclusion.

“I won’t hurt him.”

Kyle pulls out a remote, pushing some buttons. Only a few moments later, guards arrive, and he turns and addresses them. "Take Original to the sensory room. If it tries to break free, you're welcome to retain it. Painfully, if need be."

The guards begin to obey, and Kyle mouths something to Zane that Cryptor can’t quite make out.

Still, the white ninja struggles. “Wh-“ He’s cut off as he’s roughly unchained and manhandled. “Hey! Stop it, I- let go of me!”

Panic begins to settle inside him. The sensory room? They had only taken Cryptor there once, and only for a few hours, but it had been living hell. He can’t let them do that to Zane!

Still, he can’t do anything more than watch as they begin to drag Zane away. He once again finds himself fumbling for words. “Wa- wait, no, I- I didn’t-“ He turns to look at Kyle, still feeling fear flooding through him. “Hold on!”

Kyle only shrugs. "I warned you. Really hoped you'd be smart enough to listen."

Zane continues shouting as he’s forcibly pulled out of the room, the anger mixed with fear.

The fear makes way for shock. And shock makes way for anger. “I- you-“ He feels the rage burning deep inside of him as he glares at Kyle “That. Is. It.”

No words can describe how good it feels when his fist collides with the damn brat’s face.

Kyle stumbles back, hand coming up to clutch at his bloody nose. The red stains make Cryptor feel satisfied, but the moment is ruined when Kyle starts… laughing.

He just got punched in the face, and he’s laughing. Laughing maniacally, laughing like the insane jackass he is.

Rage still boils inside of him, and it only burns brighter at that, at the way he’s being mocked. “Shut up! Stop-“ He stops bothering with words as he tries to grab Kyle, to hold him down and pummel the shit out of him-

But the damn guards are back, and he’s being restrained, being held in place in front of the most infuriating person that Cryptor has ever met. “Let go of me!” He snarls. “ I’m not fucking finished with him!”

Kyle is still laughing, laughing like a fucking psychopathic sadist. "HAH! Guess you really didn't like him after all-" Once the words are out, he’s right back to cackling.

It suddenly registers in his head. What he had done. The reasoning for why he hadn’t done it sooner. What’s going to happen now that he did.

His words are only a soft whisper as he speaks, unable to speak louder due to the horror inside of him. “No- no, no, no, no- I…” He looks back at Kyle, who has finally caught his breath.

“W- wait, I-“

The smile he gets is cold-blooded and straight up murderous. "You. Shut your mouth. Now.” He orders. He then pauses a moment before continuing. “I was being way too nice to you, apparently. Gave you ideas.” He shrugs. “Won't happen again.” Then he looks over at the guards.

“Guys, tie it up and bring me… you-know-what."

Cryptor could swear that his power source had shut off for a moment.

He opens his mouth to speak, but then shuts it fast enough that there’s an audible click. Kyle had told him to stop talking, and he’s not going to risk pissing him off more.

Feeling himself begin to tremble, Cryptor fights back the feeling of helplessness that builds inside of him. He doesn’t bother continuing to struggle.

It’s not worth it.

Kyle chuckles lowly. "Not very impressive now, General, huh? You won't stand up to a guy with a bloody nose?" His tone is mocking, and Cryptor grits his teeth. He looks down and squeezes his eyes shut tight, unable to look at the blond.

"You're so pathetic it makes me want to puke.” Kyle scoffs before addressing the guards. “Take it back to its locker so it can wait until we find him."

“Don’t-“ Cryptor cuts himself off as they begin to drag him away. He was ordered not to speak. And he has the implied order to not resist, so…

He’s roughly shoved back into the locker- not that he would’ve tried to avoid going in- and the door is slammed shut in front of him.

Hopelessness.

That’s the only word that could even begin to describe what he’s feeling.

If he were human, tears would be pooling in his eyes. As it is, he can only just stop himself from beginning to sob without tears, doing the nindroid, non-human equivalent.

Because he’s not human. And he never will be.

“I… fuck.” He mumbles the words to himself as he desperately tries to avoid breaking down completely.

He hears a weak, tired laugh escape him of its own accord as he closes his eyes, able to feel his strength draining from him.

“I really am pathetic…”

He’s not sure how much time has passed by the time they bring Zane back, but it’s been at least six hours- a long time for the sensory room.

I DI

DONT

Cryptor cuts off whatever the hell he was going to say. He honestly couldn’t care less about what the white ninja has to say to him.

Nothing he could say would make a difference.

————————————————-

Cryptor doesn’t resist when he’s taken out of his locker. He doesn’t resist as he’s taken down the halls. He doesn’t resist when he’s chained down.

He doesn’t resist at all.

He doesn’t dare.

Kyle is in the room, but Cryptor doesn’t risk doing anything more than looking down, silently pleading for mercy that he knows won’t be coming as the blond walks up to him. "I'm giving you permission to talk again. Don't make me regret that too."

He’s suddenly glad that he hadn’t tried to say anything. Keeping his head down, Cryptor forces out a set of apologetic words. “I won’t, Master. I’m- I’m sorry.”

There’s an annoyed sigh. "You're not sorry you misbehaved. You're sorry you have to live with the consequences.” Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the blond shaking his head. “Anyways, I'm hoping you understand why we brought you here."

Every gear and mechanism is suddenly locked as he struggles to keep ahold of himself. He looks up for a moment, and tries to find some way to defend his past actions for a moment… but only a moment.. “I- I di… yes, Master.” He looks down again.“I understand.”

"Good. At least that's out of the way." Kyle starts to walk around him, circling him like a predator around its prey. "Explain this to me, however. You were so, so desperate to make sure Sentry wouldn't get hurt a while ago. So what the fuck-“ Kyle gestures at his bloody nose “-was that?"

Shaking, Cryptor answers truthfully, his words quiet and, unfortunately, almost pitiful.

“I… I was angry. I wanted to protect Zane, and I was upset that I failed.” Cryptor cringes as he forces himself to continue. “I shouldn’t have done that, Master. It- it won’t happen again.”

Kyle sounds slightly confused, but also kind of mocking, which balances it out pretty well. "You're not really what I'd call a hero, General. What made you think you could be one now?"

Feeling his head snap up, Cryptor answers without hesitation. “I’m not a hero. I never wanted to be. I…” his voice goes quiet again as he continues. “I made a friend. And I just… I wanted to be happy. I wanted- I wanted to feel okay again.” Rage once again washes over him as he continues, this time shouting. “I just wanted some sense of normal in this place!”

Then he freezes. Everything is tense. Oh, he should not have done that, he should not have shouted-

The blond sighs. "Well, so much for that." He takes something out of one of his pockets at just the right angle to prevent Cryptor from seeing what it is.

Dread settles inside of him, but he tries to hide it, tries to pretend that maybe he still has some dignity.

“Wh- what’s that?”

And apparently he doesn’t, because he sounds downright terrified when he speaks.

Kyle’s smile is once again one of the most terrifying things that Cryptor has ever seen. "I have a better question. Which piece of a nindroid's faceplate is harmless enough to remove while still causing a good amount of pain?"

Cryptor feels his eyes widen, staring in mute horror for a few moments before he manages to breath out a few quiet words.

“You- you didn’t.”

The eye piece, the scope. Technically made to be a laser beam, but it has sensors in it- really sensitive ones, too.

The smile grows. "Judging by the look on your face, I'd say that you've got it. That's right, it's the scope!" The part is basically shoved in his face, and Cryptor flinches backwards.

Horror sets in every single wire and circuit he has as he stares at it. “I- you- he’s not…”

The implications… no. No, he didn’t… he couldn’t have… Sentry can’t be… he can’t…

Cryptor manages to look up, to look Kyle in the eyes, to look at his Master. “He’s not- you didn’t…”

The blond is still smiling as he shrugs. "He's as alive as a machine can be… For now. And I want you to fully understand that even if this is just a scope, we have the power to harvest much more delicate pieces, like, let's say…” He pauses dramatically, posing like he’s thinking.

Then he drops the act, and the smile is now a smirk. “A power source."

Cryptor doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He can barely even breathe. He at least had the reassurance that he’s not dead yet, but…

Kyle either doesn’t know or doesn’t care about his mental plight. "The other important thing that I want you to remember before you get ideas again is that you are completely responsible for Sentry's and Original's well-beings. If you misbehave or talk back like you did before…” He shrugs. “Well, you saw what happens. "

With a weak nod, Cryptor agrees. “I… I understand.” Dropping his gaze back down to the floor, he continues, confining his statement. “I’ll behave, Master.”

He hesitates for a minute as he comes up with an idea. Not an idea of how to defy, but… an idea of how to obey. How to give him what he wants. What he demands from him.

“I know that I am lesser, and I… I’ll act like it from now on.”

The words taste disgusting in his mouth, but he speaks them anyway, knowing that that’s what Kyle would want to hear.

"Awesome.” Kyle smiles. “I'll have someone bring you back to your locker."

His next words are mumbled so softly that Cryptor can barely make them out.

“I almost feel bad for it, if only Original hadn't acted out first… This is its fault, really."

Cryptor feels everything in him tense. That- he- it’s not Zane’s fault, it…

But isn’t it?

Anger, frustration, and fear are all building up inside of him as he lets himself be taken back to his locker.

ARE YO

Cryptor doesn’t wait for him to finish.

FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE TAKE A HINT AND SHUT YOUR MOUTH

Thankfully, Zane doesn’t answer, and Cryptor takes the opportunity to activate his sleep mode.

But annoyance is suddenly added to the growing list of emotions as he realizes that he’s too worked up to go to sleep.

Grinding his teeth, Cryptor snaps at Zane again, feeling the upset whirlwind of feelings inside of him making him almost sick.

THIS IS YOUR FAULT

There’s a long pause before Zane answers, and for a moment, Cryptor feels even more annoyed as he wonders if he had gone to sleep.

I KNOW

He… what? He just- okay, good, he knows that it’s his fault. At least he’s not trying to deny that he got them into this. If he would just behave and do what he’s told, none of this would be-

ILL TALK TO YOU TOMORROW CRY

Rage is still burning inside of him as he answers the white ninja.

I WONT RESPOND

I DONT EXPECT YOU TO

Wh- what does that mean? What kind of mind games is he playing here? Is he trying to trick Cryptor into forgiving him?

It takes hours before he can fall asleep.

And even then… all he has are nightmares.

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Kyle walks down the hall, not bothering to glance at the lockers as he goes by. Really, this was almost too easy. 3D printing a copy of the scope and using sensory manipulation to make it more realistic? Is that really all it takes?

Smiling to himself, Kyle heads off to Borg Tower.

He has an internship to get to.

#the rights of a nindroid #trauma #psychological torture #torture #ninjago fanfiction #fanfiction

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dangerouscommiesubversive · 3 years

Note

May I ask what ships you have for the Ex-Aid guys and girls / humans and Bugsters alike (in-show and crossovers)?

I like how this is put, because I appreciate the floor being specifically opened up to crossover shipping, which is 100% My Jam as I’m sure everyone’s noticed. I answered a similar ask months ago that was just about OTPs, and there are very few contexts in which I go hard-OTP. (Like, if you try to get anyone else in between Philip and Shotaro I’ll bite you, but most things I’m not that hardcore about.)

Um, so. Ships I enjoy in Ex-Aid are...at least half of them. It’s a show peculiarly rich in shipping flexibility, have you noticed? There are some big ones but there’s a little bit of everything. Stuff I particularly like:

Emu/Kiriya is a good time. Emu/Parad is also a good time. Emu/Parad/Kiriya is top-shelf. (Admittedly, any ship I have that includes Emu also has a little “and Parad” tagalong even if he’s not directly involved because they come as a set.) I do also like Emu/Hiiro. Emu/Taiga is ok but doesn’t feel as good for either one of them.

Parad/Graphite, because goddamn do I love both of them. Depending on time frame Kuroto can be there too, but only if he’s really off-balance most of the time.

Honestly, anything where Graphite is happy.

I enjoy Taiga/Hiiro, although I have doubts about its long-term viability.

Extremely one-sided Nico/Parad where she has a huge crush on him and he’s completely oblivious to it

I’ve seen Poppy/Hiiro, and that’s very cute, but have you considered: Poppy/Taiga? Extremely good “Someone will die.” “Of fun!” vibe, but with the added bonus of Nico in the background trying to figure out how her jackass brother managed to get the perfect girlfriend.

An entirely platonic Parad and Heart relationship where Parad calls Heart either “Heart-niisan” or “Heart-sempai,” whichever seems cuter at the moment, and Heart cries about it a little. (From joy. It is important that he is crying from joy. Not bad crying.)

Following on the theme of one-sided Nico situations, imagine Ren (from Saber, not Ryuki, obvs) meeting Nico and getting an absolutely ruinous crush on her. It would destroy him and I would giggle.

Anyway, regardless of any one-sided Nico situations, Nico likes girls and she deserves a girlfriend and I just can’t think of who.

#headcanon #anonamouse #in case it wasn't obvious i love nico

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everlarkficexchange · 4 years

Text

Operation: BREAD (Bring Revenge on Everdeen to Avenge Dad)

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 23: Rumor: MrEverdeen crossed fence dividing Town and Seam, kidnapped Mrs Everdeen making her his common law wife. Years later, Mellark sons plan to avenge their father by raiding Seam and kidnapping one of Everdeen’s daughters for one of them to take as a wife! Does Katniss “volunteer,” does she escape, how do the 3 brothers decide what to do with her since they didn’t plan it all out well? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Rated: T for now, for language.

Author’s Note: So, I resigned myself that this prompt won’t be completed by the new dateline of May 10th, because believe it not, quarantining with the husband and children at home makes for a very busy day… everyday. I haven’t been able to write anything for days at a time, and everytime I come back, I reread what I’ve written so far, and find faults that need fixing and what I hoped to be a short story is turning into a long one shot because I’m incapable of keep things simple… and now I’m ranting about everything instead of thanking everyone— from the EFE administrators, to @567inpanem for the prompt, and y’all dear readers— and wishing all moms a happy Mother’s Day, even if you celebrate it on a different date in your country… and I a belated happy birthday to Katniss Everdeen and Also a happy Mother’s Day to her, because she deserves it… anywho…

Here’s is the very first part of this story, that can’t make up its mind on what it wants to be (it’s leaning into romcom territory right now), I’ll post all my submissions soonish (hopefully finished), and I apologize for any formatting defects since I’m posting from my cell phone, otherwise I’ll forget to post it at all.

Sorry this is messy! I love y’all! Stay healthy.

————

“Quiet, you morons!” Bannock… whispers?

Is that the right descriptor for the harsh, low sounds that comes from his mouth? I’m not quite sure, but I look at him sheepishly, since I was the one to trip on air this time around and nearly knock down a clothesline, poles and all.

“S-sorry…” I stutter drunkenly.

Rye shrugs, uncaring. Asshole!

Bannock glares at us with his bloodshot, angry blue eyes before turning around and creeping forward.

It’s a chilly night out, with no stars and just a sliver of moon casting minimal light over us, ideal to maraud and raid… if we lived any place else, that is.

If we were to find ourselves face to face with the flashlight of a Peacekeeper patrolling the streets, things could go anywhere from awkward to deadly, and I really hope we don’t have to find out how it’ll truly go. We’re wasted, outside our house after curfew, and facing our mother’s wrath would probably be as terrible as any punishment the peacekeepers would inflict on us.

The later option has me swallowing thickly.

I’m no coward by any stretch of the word… but I do enjoy being alive, so… yeah.

“Don’t mess around, no more!” Bannock chides.

As soon as Bann turns around, Rye mouths his words back, mockingly, and I wonder— not for the first time— how can my brothers be so immature? Bannock just turned 25, while Rye has the mind of a 13 year old trapped in the muscular body of a 24 year old man; leaving sweet, little me, the 21 year old baby sibling, to bring the rear.

Rye burps, mostly quietly, earning another warning glare from Bann. All things considered, I’m a little impressed at how stealthily we’ve been moving so far, being as enebriated as we are and all. But who knows? Maybe we really aren’t as slick as my alcohol soaked brain thinks we are, and I’m just too skunked to know any better.

“D’you think we’ll be back before father wakes to take care of the ovens?” Rye slurs a little, squinting his eyes at a cat trotting across the alley in front of him. A second later he’s frowning down at the cat, shushing it obnoxiously, as if it’s soft paws are the ones making the stopping sounds coming from his own boots.

Bannock shrugs, “Who cares!”

I’m about to raise my hand and respond that I do, I care, but Rye starts laughing like an idiot, already distracted by something else. We turn to catch him picking up a stick and throwing it at the poor, unsuspecting cat. As soon as the stick hits it’s side, the animal loses its balance, making it fall into a trash can, with a terrified cry.

It’s awful. And loud.

“Knock it off!” Bannock growls as quietly as he can. “You’re gonna wake up the whole town, asshole!”

The cat meows indignantly, climbing out of the trash. He jumps to the other side and it’s gone in the next moment.

I sigh, rubbing one hand over my face. “Guys, I think we should go back. I don’t think Father will approve of this.”

“Shut up, Peeta!”

“Yeah! Shut it, runt!”

I grunt in aggravation under my breath. “I’m serious. We shouldn’t be out here… at all!” I insist.

“Why did you come then?” Bann hisses.

“You dragged me out with you, jackass!” I counter, pointedly. Plus, I’m the least drunk out of the three of us, and I figured I should keep an eye on them two, make sure they don’t get hurt in this idiotic quest… but I don’t say that out aloud. “I still don’t understand why, are we stumbling across town in the middle of the night, risking getting caught outside after curfew.”

“You know why, Peeta! We’ve gone over it to death,” snaps Bann, twisting his whole body to face me and almost walking into a potted plant sitting by somebody’s back door. “Father doesn’t know how to take care of himself, let alone how to defend his honor!”

“Our hands have been forced, runt. We need to pick up the slack, that’s why!”

I roll my eyes at my brothers.

It’s true though. For the last 26 years, our father has been both the butt of every joke said in the streets of district 12, and the victim of a tragic cautionary tale, people somehow feel the sadistic inclination to bring up to us, Mellark boys, as if we needed the reminder.

“Geez… save it for Everdeen, Bann. Let the runt keep his head instead of chewing it off him!”

Bannock frowns. It’s not everyday Rye comes to my defense, which means he really must be hammered.

Cool! I love brotherly affection… even if given under the influence.

“Whatever.” Bannock mutters under his breath. “We’re here anyway.” He signals to the fence dividing our district into two unequal sections: the merchant quarter, where we live, and the Seam (our destination), the largest— yet poorest— side of 12.

It’s unclear why the government erected the fence running right through the district in the first place, but the effect of having a literal barrier separating everyone in our small district, couldn’t be any clearer: we have a huge social divide amongst our people, very distinct and hard to overcome. Both sides distrusting the other, despite there never being a tangible reason why.

Personally, I think the most logical explanation for the creation of the internal fence, was just sheer desire to create hostility and antagonism between the citizens of 12… maybe it’s easier for the Capitol’s long arm to control a podunk place like here, when there’s an unbridgeable social chasm between our own denizens; how can we band together to demand better treatment and fair representation from the mighty Capitol, when we’re fighting with each other?

Of course, I keep my opinion to myself, because speaking of such things is just a sure way to find oneself in prison, facing charges of public agitation and whatnot.

Bann cuts through my musings, “Alright… let’s find a spot to cross over.” He says determined and still very intoxicated.

The worst kept secret in District 12, is how some sections of the fence are too close to the houses in the merchant side. If one really wants to cross into the other side over the fence, one only needs to look for a low wall adjacent to the top links of the fence to climb on, and after that, it’s all a matter of gravity pulling you down. Its been done before too…

Everyone speculates that’s what happened the day our father fell into disgrace: A man from the Seam found a weak spot to exploit… and the rest is history. Never mind the fact that jumping the fence is a common enough hooligan deed; how else can teenage couples reach the Slag Heap at the edge of the old coal mines to engage in their secret affairs?

It only takes us a few minutes to find a brick wall circling the backyard of a random house, just two feet shy of the fence.

We climb it with all the grace of a pig crawling up a greased pole, but after much huffing and puffing, we manage— with great effort— to drag ourselves over the barrier. We’re sweating and swearing, but who could blame us for that? We Mellark boys are just too broad and heavy with muscle, add to the mix the fact that we’ve drank our body weight in white liquor right before Bann had the brilliant idea of dragging us out here, and you have an uncoordinated— mostly clumsy— sad excuse, trio of vandals.

Rye goes first, then I go; finally, Bannock splatters down like a bullfrog, falling on his ass. He’s disgruntled and I suspect in dire need of a nap.

“Come on!” He commands, dusting his behind sloppily.

We’ve been walking aimlessly through unfamiliar dirt roads and dark unpaved alleys. The place is littered with produce crates set upside down in neat circles every other road… I vaguely wonder if that’s what passes as a socializing hot spot here in the Seam, like the square with its concrete benches is for us in town?

Sometimes I forget how things can be so shitty on this side of the District. It makes my stomach twist unpleasantly with guilt, realizing I take certain privileges for granted.

About five minutes into our stupid intrusion into Seam territory, Rye speaks up.

“Dude… do you know where they live?”

Bannock’s head snaps up, clearly annoyed. “How hard can it be to find the Seam’s apothecary?”

Very, actually.

First of all, The Seam consists of row after row of seemingly identical shacks, in varying states of shabbiness, arranged in a huge matrix of sorts. Each row is made of three to five houses with a slim road in between the next set of homes.

For what I gather in my limited liquor-addled brain, each horizontal row has a designated letter, and the vertical street goes by number. Other than that, there are no other distinguishing signs, telling us where we are or how to find the ‘Seam apothecary’ as Bann inarticulately dubbed it.

Rye groans in annoyance, seeming ready to overrule Bannock and call the whole thing off, himself; but my drunk ass is too stupid to keep my big mouth shut.

“They live close to the electric fence. Right before the meadow. They probably have a fence-in yard, too.”

I wince, regretting my words right away. I shouldn’t have said anything, but like an idiot, I couldn’t help spilling out the small bursts of information I��ve gathered over the years on the Everdeens.

I’m ashamed to admit it, but the Everdeens are a bit of an obsession to me… for all of us Mellarks, really. Given our entangled past with them, it shouldn’t be so much of a revelation, but this thing between our families has been a nuisance ever since I can remember and while my brothers and mother use it as a focal point of hatred and animosity. For me, is a curiosity driven thirst for knowledge on everything Everdeen. Anything that could shed light on our sordid past, I would gobble up, trying to answer why something that has virtually nothing to do with me and my brothers, still haunt us everywhere we go.

Rye frowns. “Fence-in yard?” He looks around the houses we are passing, realizing none of those have fences.

“Goat.” Bannock grunts, nodding thoughtfully. “Good catch, runt.”

“Huh?” Rye is scratching his head, confused.

“The blonde girl,” Bann says with mild irritation.

People from the Seam have a very specific look to them: dark— usually straight— hair, gray eyes, olive skin… ‘blonde’, blue eyed and pale, is more of a descriptor for people from the merchant class, like us… like Mrs. Everdeen.

The poor woman must stick out like a sore thumb in here; probably the same goes to her merchant-looking daughter, Primrose.

“What about the blonde?”

“She makes goat cheese.” Bann huffs as explanation, but since Rye still looks like the concept is too hard to fathom, Bannock grunts, expanding. “She trades the cheese in town. Mainly with Father. Which means, Everdeen has to keep at least one goat for the girl to have access to milk.”

“M’kay… goat, fences, meadow.” Rye lists clumsily on his fingers, following after Bann. “Got it!”

We quickened our steps in the direction of the electric fence. I’m still kicking myself for saying anything when we reach the last row of houses before the meadow.

I really hope I’m wrong about them having a goat, although I find it hard to believe Primrose steals milk from other people for her cheeses. She looks so sweet and innocent.

Alas, I’m too clever for my own good sometimes.

The very first house in the row at the edge of the meadow, has a pen connected to the house on the strip of backyard allotted to them. A tiny but sturdy shed stands against the back wall of the house, and if my eyes don’t deceive me, I can barely make out the snout of a goat, peeking out of the narrow opening of the shed.

“This is it!” Rye crows excitedly, rubbing his hands together and licking his chops like a hungry, humanoid wolf.

“Yeah. Finally!” Grunts Bann, “keep your voice down, doofus.” his reaction, both frenzied and anxious.

“Let’s do this!” Rye’s smile is deranged.

“Great!” I hiccup with fake enthusiasm. “What are we doing?” I deadpan, staring at my siblings with all the aggravation I can muster.

My brothers speak excitedly at the same time:

“Taking one of the girls back home with us!”/“Beating the shit out of Everdeen!”

My brothers look at each other, perplexed, and go, “”What?!” At the same time.

“Fuck!” I groan to the skies, noting its near dawn. “You better be joking! We came all the way out here, and you idiots didn’t plan what you were going to do once we arrived?”

“No… I mean, yes! No. it’s simple,” Slurs Rye trying to stare me in the eye and failing miserably, “We’re dragging Everdeen out here. Then, we’ll beat the snot out of the bastard, and have you doodle the whole thing out for Father… you’ll finally use that art talent of yours for something we’ll all enjoy… not just you,”

“No, no, no, no!” Snaps Bannock. “We’re taking one of Everdeen’s daughters, bring her back home with us, and avenge father.”

“What? Why?” Rye whines much too loud and even I shush him. “I thought we were just gonna jump the bastard and rearrange his face a little,” Rye sounds disappointed.

Bannock answers right away, sounding like our mother when she’s chiding us for some thing or another. “Dude… the guy stole Dad’s girl! You know what they say about repaying a slight with the same coin and all that shit. It stands to reason, the course of action here is to take one of the girls home with us, sleep with her, and get her pregnant or something, then she can’t come back to her daddy.”

I throw my hands up in the air, “That’s it! I’m out!” My brain practically short circuits with the outrageous shit my brothers are spewing out of their mouths.

Sure, beating the lights out of an unsuspecting man in front of his house in the middle of the night is already crazy, but Bann’s idea to take a girl away from her home, it’s beyond preposterous!

Instead of lashing out, I turn around and stalk away as fast as my legs can carry me. I’m still tipsy, so I stumble a little, but I’m determined to leave.

“Hey! Where are ya going?!”

I get grabbed by the bíceps and pulled back to ‘hide’ behind a scraggly bush overlooking the house we assume is Everdeen’s. My brothers push me down by the shoulders roughly, until I’m sitting on my ass.

“The hell is wrong with you two?” I snarl, trying to punch and kick either one of them.

“Shut up, runt! They’re gonna hear you!”

“Good! Then someone will call the Peacekeepers over.”

“Wha— No! Why would you want that?” Rye whines.

“I didn’t sign up for any of this crazy shit!” I spit enraged.

“Dude, you can’t bail on operation BREAD,” Rye scrunches up his face.

“Operation Bread? What in the hell, is operation Bread?” I wrench my arms free from them at last, glowering up at both.

“Bring Revenge on Everdeen to Avenge Dad!” Rye says proudly, a lopsided smile brightens his face, and all I want to do is punch his nose.

“You’re insane!” I sputter.

“No… I’m cle-ver!” Rye grins, tapping a finger to his temple.

“Come on, Peeta. You know this needs to be done!” Bann cuts in.

“No! It doesn’t!” I argue. I still feel woozy from alcohol though, so it’s costing me too much effort trying to get up. “This is just insane, Bannock! What you’re proposing is just… heinous!” I hiss.

Bannock’s face hardens, “Nobody will see it like that.” He assures, “An eye for an eye, baby brother.”

“So what? We’re gonna kidnap and rape an innocent girl in revenge, and you think that’ll fix anything? Will it bring peace? It’ll help you get Madelynn’s parents to back off and let her marry you?” I’m so pissed off, I’m pretty sure spittle is flying out of my mouth. “It won’t do anyone any good! Not us, nor father, and especially not Katniss or Primrose!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Bannock flies at me, and all I have to do is lift my arms to shield my head.

Rye is an equal opportunity asshole most of the time, but in this moment, he’s the one stopping Bannock from breaking my face in two, and I’m very grateful for my middle brother manhandling our eldest for me.

“Rape is a strong word, runt.” Rye gasps with the effort of keeping Bannock from kicking my ass. But if the wrinkling of his nose is any indication, I think maybe my words are chipping away some of his complicitness in this mess. “Maybe, what Bann meant, was, one of us will… you know… spend time with the girl, and then… make her his common law wife or something?” Rye looks at Bann expectantly.

Bannock nods. Rye lets go of him.

We all stay silent, breathing heavily for a moment.

“Same coin. Simple as that.”

If the stories are to be believed, Sorrel Everdeen crossed the fence dividing the merchant quarter and the seam, kidnapped my father’s betrothed— Lily— and made her his common law wife, despite being common knowledge, that the woman in question was engaged to our father since they were very young.

It’s an old rumor, really, with no real way to fact-check the events that led to this moment in time, but there’s always been some nasty whispering churning around town; tales varying in height and perjury, sometimes scandalous, others depraved, always with add-ons and full of conjectures flavored by the speaker in turn, but never the whole truth.

The worst thing is that the stories die down for a while when something juicer comes up, but then resurface, like a persistent oily stain on cement… It’s been 26 years since the real events leading to the Everdeens controversial marriage took place, yet the old gossip mill in District 12 has waxed over and rewritten the sordid story through the lense of judgemental people over and over again, until even our mother has started to repeat the outlandish tales, as if she wasn’t an active participant of the story herself.

Still… “I just can’t!” I say both exasperated and grossed out. “We should just go home—“

I get cut off when the door of the Everdeen house opens spilling faint candlelight into the almost blackened-out street.

My brothers rush to huddle around me, crowding on top of me like a pair of boulders… or worse: a pair of sweaty, heavy, alcohol doused men. Disgusting!

The door of the shack closes softly and to our shock, a very angry looking Katniss Everdeen stomps in the direction of the sad excuse for a bush we’re hiding in.

“Hmm… guys… I think she sees us.” I mumble calmly, yet terrified. Katniss Everdeen, eldest daughter of Sorrel and Lily, is coming our way with fire in her eyes.

TBC on AO3…

#Springtime Edition 2020 #alliswell21 #567inpanem #prompt 23 #submission

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allicekitty13 · 3 years

Text

Snow Removal

A secret Santa submission for @itsnotpluggedin

Alice wakes up in a bad mood thanks entirely to a blizzard.

Read On Ao3

Read On FFN

People had been discussing the coming storm for days, canceling plans, calling out of work, stocking up on the off chance they may be snowed in. Having all this information on hand before she went to bed, however, did nothing to prevent the rage and frustration Alice felt upon waking up that afternoon.

Despite having turned up the heat in preparation, the room was far too cold. Unwilling to deal with the snowy situation just yet, Alice promptly snoozed her alarm and curled the thick quilt tighter around her body in a desperate attempt to hold in the warmth for just a few minutes longer. She lay in bed with her eyes lightly closed, going over every extra issue that would need to be dealt with today before her shift at the coffee shop. She would have to fight her dog, Bowser, to come inside once she let him out. The energetic springer loved the snow and would gladly spend hours running around, throwing himself into drifts. Alice would have to lure him in with the good treats today to pull his attention away from the excitement of the snow.

She would also need to let her car warm up and brush all the snow piled up on the surface of the Lumina. A time-consuming task that required stomping through the unshoveled snow to reach every inch of the vehicle. Even with her warmest winter boots on, Alice just knew her toes would be frozen by the time the task was over. She also still needed to stop at the local dollar store; snacks and caffeine would be desperately needed to tolerate her shift. Working at a coffee shop, the most common source of caffeine, coffee itself, was, of course, in abundance. Alice, however, liked a more fruity sort of pick me up gravitating more to energy drinks than the dark bitter beverage she spent most of her days serving to customers.

Alice wanted to remain in bed just a little while longer and avoid the unpleasant tasks. Bowser, though, was tapping at the door asking for bathroom access while time was up on the snoozed alarm, which now blared its annoying tone through the room. With no other choice, at least if she wished to remain employed, the agitated woman untangled herself from her quilt and set off about her day.

---

Having completed her morning routine despite the extra hurdles, Alice was now standing in line at the dollar store. She was dreading arriving at her place of business just a few blocks down the street. Once out of bed and outside with Bowser, the woman had been able to see for herself exactly how bad the storm was. Usually, she would have left her dog to his own devices while she went about her morning. The snow, though, was coming down hard and fast, the wind blowing so hard the petite woman struggled to retain her balance under the force of the gusts.

Having to stay outside with her beloved dog had added to the time spent preparing for work that morning. She continuously glanced at her watch as the minutes ticked by. She'd left the house later than usual, she was already grumpy in regards to the weather, and now the woman two spots ahead of her in the line was taking her sweet time checking out. Alice knew it wasn't the woman's fault that there were only five minutes left until she needed to be at work; still, she left the shop slightly more enraged than she'd entered.

Jasper, the only one ever scheduled to open with her, much to her chagrin, would have a field day. Jasper was the source of the vast majority of her stress that day. Alice hated snow, loathed being cold and wet. It should surprise absolutely no one to hear that she hated shoveling. She just knew that when she arrived at the coffee shop that the back parking spot, the front sidewalk, all of it would be covered in untouched layers of fluffy white snow.

Jasper's twin sister Rosalie, who owned the shop, asked him to come up with his snowblower every winter and take care of it. Every winter, Jasper would conveniently forget, and Alice would end up going outside with a shovel to take care of it.

So when Alice pulled into the small parking lot located behind the shop, she was in disbelief. She sat in the car for a moment, allowing herself to take in her surroundings as Taylor Swift played out through her vehicle speakers. The lot was completely devoid of any snow piles. When she finally stepped out of the car, grabbing the yellow plastic grocery sack containing her two Monsters and bag of chips, there were no snowdrifts to step in.

Key in hand, Alice made her way to the shop's back entrance, unlocked the door, and stepped into the blessedly warm building. Setting her purse and her purchases from the dollar store onto a counter, she tentatively headed to the front of the store to peek out the large glass windows overlooking the main street. Her jaw dropped open upon seeing that the sidewalks had also blessedly been cleared.

When the back entrance opened again, Alice rushed to the kitchen where Jasper had just walked in. "Oh. My. God. I'm so happy I could kiss you!" She exclaimed with an enthusiastic smile as she stopped in front of the man.

Jasper played it cool, leaning back against the now shut door as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Not that I don't love to hear it, Ali, but you've been refusing to go out with me for two years. Why the change of heart?"

"God, you're insufferable. It's an expression jackass."

"Still," The man stepped away from the doorway to place his backpack on the table next to Alice's belongings continuing their daily banter as he moved. "You're in an unusually good mood."

"You actually moved the snow for one." Her statement came with an eye-roll as if that were the most obvious thing in the world."

"Oh." He stopped his motions of preparing the shop for opening, an expression of consideration forming on his face as his eyes darkened as though he were thinking about something very carefully. "Yeah, that wasn't me. I lent the snowblower to Peter."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Silence hung heavy between the pair as Alice took in the information that Peter, owner of the bar next door, had been the one to remove the snow. That Jasper had not had a change of heart. She would have to thank Peter, considering he wasn't obligated to take care of any business other than his own. It was an exceptionally kind thing for the man to have done.

"I'll take that kiss anyway if the offer is still on the table." Jasper, who had apparently moved past his moment of contemplation, called out, interrupting Alice's thoughts.

"Get fucked, Jasper."

"Oh Alice," The man smirked, making his way to the front of the building to unlock the doors. "Can't you see I'm trying?"

---

Two weeks late, another snowstorm hit. Once again, Alice repeated her morning trials of getting ready despite the snow, albeit a little faster than she had during the previous storm.

There was one significant difference this time around. When the woman arrived at the coffee shop to begin her shift, the majority of the snow was still in place. Only one singular parking spot had been cleared out, and in the distance of the lot, Alice could see none other than Jasper Whitlock bundled up with his snowblower.

She rushed inside, partly to get out of the harsh winds but mostly to check the sidewalks. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw that once again, they had been cleared. The side of her mouth raised in a soft half-smile at the knowledge that Jasper was trying.

Maybe, just maybe, one of these days, she would agree to that date.

#Jalice #Twilight #alice cullen #Jasper Hale

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mirrorfalls · 3 years

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Lego Liveblogs ST: TOS, part 23 (of who-the-hell-knows-how-many?)

A Taste of Armageddon - in plot, if not title - is one I remember from TV Tropes years ago, which even today sounds like one of the most interesting metaphors for war and politics that anyone’s ever come up with. But what of its execution, and its applicability? Let’s find out.

* Pretty good nutshell of diplomacy: we’re here to save lives... by claiming territory, whether the locals want us or not! * Good impression of the special guest ambassador’s actor, too. The script has him just this side of unreasonable, but there’s a gravitas to the performance that says he’s not acting this way for fun. * Wait, I thought Sulu was in charge if both Kirk and Spock left? * Oh good golly this is a gorgeous planet backdrop... ** ... balanced out by the silly-ass outfits on the actual inhabitants, of course. I kinda missed these balls-to-the-wall future fashions the last few eps. * So knowing the twist ahead of time takes some of the fun out of it, but I still love the buildup of Kirk trying all his weapon sensors one-by-one (starting with Spock’s ears!). Because on the Final Frontier, you can’t take anything for granted - how many times has the Enterprise’s best tech been punked by the alien-of-the-week, already? ** “Computer don't kill a half million people.” I take some of those points back. Kirk, what the fuck do you think shoots everything in the Enterprise’s arsenal?! * That aside, this is still an utter banger to drop in the first act. It’s Kodos’ butchery, stretched into a matter of routine, centuries-long policy, as a means of coping with exponentially higher stakes. Spock’s “I do not approve. I understand.” is the absolute crowner of it all. * Ooh, Bones-Scotty dynamic! Pretty rare- ** Okay Scotty is officially my favorite backup Captain. * So Vulcan Mind-Melds can be used for brainwashing now? ** I wouldn’t mind this so much if it was truly the only way Kirk and co. could’ve escaped, but if all they needed was for the guard to open the door a split-second, couldn’t they feign one of the party having a heart attack or a mental crackup or something? * How convenient, we’re just in time to save the young, pretty local! * Well. That was significantly less funny than the script thought it was. * I guess I should save this for the end, but I should put it here before I forget: this episode is kicking Return of the Archons’ ass in every quarter, despite hitting the same beats with an even more aggressively jingoistic Kirk (not even a mention of the Prime Directive here!). What a difference competent pacing and tension makes. * Alas, the Enterprise crew being this competent means someone has to cock things up enough to fill another two acts. Even doing my best to ignore the “he’s opposing the main characters so he must be wrong!” instinct, it takes a special kind of arrogance to waltz into a place the locals admit is an open warzone and still think you can just plant an embassy. ** And Scotty does damn well for himself here, though I would’ve loved to see him fire back with “Oh, a diplomat? Why don’t you try summa your diplomacy on me 'stead of barking orders?” * Just like that, this lead Councilman guy instantly proves himself one of the season’s most interesting villains: he’s judging humanity because he considers himself part of it, and the atrocities he’s doing for the greater good are as relevant today as they were in 1966. ** Meanwhile, the best Kirk’s got is “We don't make war with computers.” [Laughs in NATO] * Attaboy, Scotty. Let the jackass beam himself down and Natural Selection will take care of the rest. * Awww, way to ruin the fun, Spock. * Getting back to how superior this is to Archons in every way imaginable - what I love about these planets’ nightmarish setup is that it’s the perfect extreme of a quote-unquote pragmatic state, more than any emotionless, secret police-controlled cult could ever be. These are governments that have completely embraced the idea that violence and suffering can’t be reduced - only dammed and redirected. That predictable is the closest any decent-sized society can ever get to good. That they don’t revel in the death lets us maintain a level of sympathy; that they don’t even think about haggling it down lets us know there’s nothing wrong with Kirk tearing the whole thing apart. ** (That said, he could stand to be a little less smug about it, and straight-up telling the Enterprise to raze everything if they don’t play ball is... not good.) * Well, we’re getting close to the end, so time for the rest of the guards to make like dominoes. * Okay, Kirk’s “neat and painless” speech - it’s not quite addressing the topic I find most interesting, but it’s still plenty relevant to Current Issues so I’ll applaud. ** Also applause-worthy: he saves it for the people of this planet, not the computers. I understand this is a lesson Roddenberry himself will be struggling with - inasmuch as any computer can be evil, it’s only by making such things easier for people. * “I've had some small experiences in such matters.” Considering how easily you got suckered by them, I’d reckon it’s damn small... * ... wait, that raze-the-planet thing wasn’t just a bluff? You really were going to do it if they didn’t knuckle? What the hell, man.

So I’ve heaped plenty praise on this episode - more, possibly, than even Balance of Terror - as a pure sci-fi adventure. But that, alas, only throws the political/moral message into sharper relief, and when all’s said and done I’m not sure it’s one I agree with. As a pure metaphor for how detached and arbitrary war becomes with every new generation, it’s still a thing of beauty - but the idea that all you really need to do to solve it all is have a barrel-chested hero barge in, smash everything up, and instate peace at Phaser-point evokes Archons without really improving on it in any meaningful way. Maybe two episodes’ worth of story could’ve let it develop into something more satisfactory still; maybe a promising premise and a bleh ending was all it was ever going to be...

Next: KHHHHAAhhh, you know the rest.

#Lego Liveblogs Star Trek #Star Trek: The Original Series

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drethanramslay · 4 years

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Chapter 3

Pairing: Cassian x MC (for this chapter)

Warning: Violence, slight description of blood and swearing

Word count: 3.3 K

Chapter 1 2

Taglist: @choices-love-affair @miyakokurono @openheart12 @trappedinfandoms @noboundariesplease @nooruleman @madampugzalot @sekizincimektup @dailydoseofchoices @choicesfanaf @kaavyaethanramsey @junggoku @flyawayboo @whatchique @vampiregirlsblog @squishywizardhq @lilyvalentine @agent-breakdance (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist ☺️)

Song: Lover of mine by 5 seconds of summer

Forgive me if there are any mistakes 😬

Being a US Marshal, doesn't purely mean fireballs and explosion. It doesn't mean strong, burly men entering empty warehouses guns blazing.

It means practice, precision and patience.

It means to learn from your mistakes but not dwell in them. We must learn from failure and try better next time. But to indulge in the sorrow or regret brings about unsustainable misery, which doesn't help the cause.

It means providing protection to the people in need when the environment is threatening to their life.

It means being selfless and not hesitating to lay your life for the country. It doesn't mean being suicidal, but it's actually gives meaning and purpose to life.

It means being patient with fugitives and keeping a cool, calm and collected mind at times of crisis.

Assess the situation and defuse it. That's what my supervisor used to say. And it's stuck with me all through my life.

My eyes scanned the room, gauged the situation we were in. Adira was wimpering which gave the intruder a sadistic pleasure. He was running the gun along her jaw.

"Not so feisty are we now?" He said smiling sinisterly.

We could use the false sense of security to our advantage.

The room was a mess. Upturned tables and broken lamps. I was standing at the entrance of the room and they were right across me, around 20 metres away. I know that if I were to do anything, he would straight up blow her brains out. But one thing caught my eye.

They were standing in front of an open widow. That window was pretty big and it opened up on to the rose bushes. A fall from this height might just result in broken bones but, the element of surprise can help us escape.

"Adira." I said calmly, trying to calm her down with my eyes. Her eyes met and I tried to show her that we are going to be okay. That I always have a back up plan.

"Cassian..." She whimpered again.

"Hands like Houdini." I said my eyes not leaving her cerulean ones.

"Huh?" Her eyes focusing, like the lens of a camera.

"Hands like Houdini." I said, without giving much away.

"Stop with this lovey dovey eyes. Shut the FUCK U-"

And at that moment, she threw her hands down and pushed him back with her hips. He stumbled and lost balance resulting him to fall down the window. We heard a yell but it was caught off short. I ran to her and gathered her in my arms.

"It's okay. You are safe. You are alive." I said as I ran my hand through her head. As she seeked comfort in my arms I glanced at the man who fell of the window. A pool of blood was slowly increasing around his head.

He had hit his head to the brick fence. He was dead.

"We need to go. We are compromised." I said as I grabbed her hand and picked up the gun which the intruder had dropped. I checked the number of bullets and Adira picked up the crowbar.

I stared at her and she just shrugged.

Okay then.

We immediately left the house not caring about our clothes or anything. Tomas will hook us up. It was still dusk as we ran down the beach, never once slowing down. I had kept a jet ski under the tarps nearby which could help us in a quick getaway to the sea.

My iPhone had somehow survived the entire ordeal as I reached for it in my pocket. I sped dialed Tomas's number.

"Tell me Keane." Tomas's cool voice spoke through the phone.

"Tomas we have been compromised. I just now fought of three intruders who were wearing a pin with the logo of the Great Irish mob. Tomas... They sent in assassins."

"How is the witness?"

"She is shooken up but okay. We are getting on to the-" a bullet ricocheted through the air and it grazed my shoulder.

"FUCK." I hissed as the pain stung me.

Adira screamed and I immediately spoke into the phone. "Alert the backup. They have cleaning up to do. But DO NOT make a huge show."

Hanging up I turned and I assessed the people shooting us.

"Adira, get the jet ski started. Do you remember how I taught you?" As I loaded the gun and switched off the safety.

Resolution and determination sparked in her eyes. "Yes. Just knock those assholes down while I ride."

She got the jet ski into the sea and put the key into the ignition and roared it to life. I sat facing the shooters lining up the gun and breathing out as my eyes focused on them, letting my instincts flow through me.

Three people.

Three bullets.

Three headshots.

Three dead.

I sighed with relief as the threat had been neutralized. From my point of view this was an absolute win but Tomas would look at it as a failure. But that's okay. Adira was smirking as I leaned against her back, a small smile playing at my lips.

I live to see another day. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Well... We have a goddamn mess on our hand." Nwosu's voice boomed through the laptop. Adira was sleeping in the bedroom while Tomas and me were in the lounge on the house boat. It was around eleven in the night and the stars shone bright above the ocean.

I was sitting shirtless, drinking a cool beer so that I could have enough fuel to deal with Nwosu's cranky ass. My collarbone tattoo was on full display and my shoulder was bandaged.

Luckily it was just a scratch but it still stung.

Tomas was standing, with a hand dragging down his face. Sleep deprivation was written all over his face as he took another sip of his third coffee that evening.

"You can say that again." Tomas said as he grumbled into the mug.

"How did it happen though?"

"Adira mentioned her finance background at the shack today, accidentally. I think they have been tailing us for a long damn time. They just were waiting for our cover to blow." I said as I looked into the video camera.

"Fuck. You had one job. So you know what this means?" Nwosu said as he rubbed his hand on his balding head. Anger seeped into my veins and I narrowed my eyes.

"It mean they are onto us. Nwosu, we need to relocate them as soon as possible. Which safe houses are ready to go?" Tomas asked, smoothly cutting the tension. I let out a sigh completely exhausted.

Luckily I don't have a concussion from hitting my head to the counter but there was a dull throb in my temple. I pressed the icepack ti the sore spot again, getting temporary relief.

"If they caught them in a matter of week in Nantucket, then what is the possibility of them finding them anywhere else in the States?" Tomas continued as he scratched his chin.

"Well we-" I began but Nwosu interrupted me like the colossal jackass he is.

"Shit you are right..." I rolled my eyes as he leaned back into his chair.

What a dramatic asshole.

"We are looking at international relocation Nwosu." I said as I crushed and threw the empty beer can into the trash can. "Move the witness into a better location which has good connection with the American embassy and is willing to co-operate to catch these buggers when we need back up." I said as I stretched my hands behind my head.

Tomas and Nwosu were in a long and tense silence. "Which countries will work with us?" Tomas asked.

"We have good relationship with Ireland, Canada and Australia." Nwosu said as he looked up.

"You can remove Canada from the list. Did you see how Trump threw a bitch fit after he found Trudeau and Boris talking behind his back in that conference?" I scoffed. I maybe in law enforcement but I hated the president.

I mean how would he, an owner of a multi-million company know the struggles of the poor. And he is greedy and racist as hell. I have seen how much Nwosu and Tomas had to struggle because of their colour. I'm telling you, one of these days, America is gonna fall into ruin because of this retard.

"Yeah.. you are right. We can even remove Australia because transport is time taking and the mob issues there aren't as grave as it is over here."

"So that leaves Ireland. We did contact them regarding the Great Irish Mob a couple of months back and apparently the HQ is over there in... Kenmare." Tomas said as he opened the other laptop to search for the exchange of messages between them.

My heart started beating fast.

No.. Not Kenmare please.. I started praying. I worked all my life to get out of that hell hole and if I have to go there for an assignment it will be total clownery.

"Kenmare? Haven't heard of that.." Nwosu said.

"It's a small town south to the county if Kerry. It has its peek tourist season and there is considerable nightlife there but, it's pretty quiet out there. It's an ideal place to have HQ. People are busy in their own lives and nobody will question anything." I said as I gave a dry chuckle.

And that's true. They might appear to be friendly and nice but, nobody gives a damn and they turn the other way when a fourteen year old would ask for help.

"Seems like we just got you a new holiday location, Keane. Kenmare it is." Nwosu said as he shut the case file. "I'll be sending you the details ASAP. Good night boys." With that he disconnected the call. I sighed, tension seeping into the muscles of my shoulder, making me stiff.

"How does it feel like to go back home, Keane?" Tomas asked with a grin.

"Can't wait." I said dryly, worry and panic slowly stirring in my stomach.

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

Tomas, Adira and me stepped out of Kerry airport. The sun was shining but the wind blowing was cold. Adira was shivering in the shorts and top she had worn. I had specifically told her that the summer over here is chilly and short but, will she ever listen?

"Hello Mr. Tomas. Welcome to Ireland. I'm Matthew." A Irish ambassador who was wearing the disguise of a taxi driver spoke as he shook my hand.

"Dia dhuit." I greeted him, my Irish accent becoming more pronounced.

"Irish?" Matthew asked as he gave me a curious eye. I just stiffly nodded, and stuffed my hands in the pocket and eyes him, challenging him to ask me anything more about my personal life.

He got the hint to shut up and turned towards Tomas. Adira just gave me a quizzical look because of my moodiness but I just ignored her. "I shall take you to the house. This way please."

We all piled into one of the yellow cabs with Tomas riding shotgun while Adira and me sat in the back. We were cozied up due to the luggages but I couldn't't help but notice the distance between us.

"So, debrief me." Tomas said, straight getting down to business.

"Well... Killian and wife aren't here but the mob is in control of a certain person who goes by the alias 'Killer'."

How original. I scoffed mentally at the cliche name.

"This 'killer' person is the right hand of Killian and this mob believes in family and hierarchy. Initially they were all over here but, Killian took maximum amount of the mob members to the States. 'The killer' is just a temporary head."

"Do you have any mugshots of him? Tomas asked as he scanned the manilla file.

"The guy is literally like a ghost. He is damn good at what he does and he covers up his tracks so well that there is any clues. He just kills and vanishes. He has no weaknesses whatsoever."

Tomas looked at me and we had a moment of understanding. This 'killer' dude is too good and would be too hard to take down.

"Let's talk about safety of the witness." I said as I leaned my elbows on my knees.

"She will be perfectly fine because the mob hasn't been very active as of now. I have selected a safe house and working place where the activities are minimal and our agents are present." Matthew spoke as he pulled on to the N22 road.

"Good. And how about backup in case things go to shit?" I asked as I side eyed Adira. She just huffed and crossed her hands, glaring out of the window. She knows, if she would have been a little more careful, things wouldn't have gone the way they did in Nantucket.

But there's no point bringing that up, is there?

"They will be ready the moment you give us the signal. Agents will be in disguise." He said dutifully.

"Good." Tomas said before they dipped into the boring conversation about paperwork and the different tourist attractions in Kenmare.

I just turned towards the window and looked out at the scenic beauty of the place. Adira was in awe and she was clicking photos but I just couldn't help but detest the place.

All beautiful things have something to hide.

I had wanted to get out of this place so badly but seeing the familiar bridge across the river and the Sheen valley, made it unbearable to watch. I just shut my eyes and tried to push it all out.

If only I could do the same with my past.

If only it could stay where it's supposed to be.

If only I didn't have to go back to the place which took my parents away from me.

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

We were going through the town and I noticed how much it had changed. The buildings had been repaired and repainted in vibrant colours and many more shops had opened up. I could see No. 35, a famous cafe open still and I couldn't help but smile.

My mom and dad used to take me there for pancakes on Sunday mornings. I would hold their hands and we would walk around and then stop by the waterfalls, where we would play tag and bask in the sun.

It was beautiful. My family was beautiful. And seeing the different places I had spent time with them gave me joy as well as it tormented me. It was a flux of emotions which I couldn't comprehend.

I mean, men are not emotionally evolved.

"Cassian... Are you okay?" Adira asked lowly as she saw me clench my jaw and she proceeded put a hand on my clenched fist.

"Yeah I'm fine."

Fine. That's all I am ever going to be. I can't break down. I can't show weakness.

"If you say so..." She said as she shrugged and gave me a last look before looking out of the window.

The car turned and started going down a familiar route. My eyes widened.

"Wait a minute... Where is the safe house?"

"Henry Street."

FUCK.

"Why does that mean anything to you?" Matthew asked as he looked into the rearview mirror, his blue eyes meeting mine.

"Uh, yeah.. I used to live there with my family before I shifted to the States."

"Cassian will we be meeting your parents?" Adira asked excitedly and I couldn't help but wince. Tomas gave me a sympathetic look and I sighed.

"No. They... are dead."

"Oh I'm so sorry." Pain flickered in her eyes and I gave a small smile.

"Me too."

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

I could see it from my room.

I could see it mocking me.

I could see it taunting me.

I could see it calling out to me.

The familiar red brick house which was once my home, stood there, looming at the corner of the street. The trees had grown and the weeds were all around the place. But the house was surprisingly well kept. When I left the place because the authorities had thrown me into an orphanage, I had locked up everything. The doors, the windows and the gate. I keep that key with me.

Think of it as a symbolism. This key opens the room in my heart, where all the happy and good memories are. Whenever things would get hard, I would hold the key and reminisce. I don't expect anyone to understand me or anyone to get what I'm saying and honestly, I don't care.

I stood there looking at my old house, clenching the key in my hand. As if it was supposed to give me strength.

I know I need to go there and clear out my family's belonging.

But it's terrifying.

"Cassian! Let's go and check out where I will be working. I also heard that there's a farmer's market." Adira spoke as she knocked on the door.

I let go of the curtain and turned around to grin at her. Her hair was chestnut colour now and she was wearing specs. She had also worn green coloured lenses so that we could sell the disguise a little bit more.

A distraction is what I need.

"Sure. Also we need to discuss your disguise, Anastasia Roy."

"Yes Cassian, I know. Let's go now!"

Throwing one last look at the ghost of my past, I picked up my leather jacket and walked out.

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

It was around 6pm and all the stores were slowly shutting down. Adira and me were walking down the streets with an ice cream and groceries in the other hand.

"God I always loved European ice creams." Adira moaned and I shook my head.

"Well you can't say that if you are a barista." I pointed out.

She momentarily got angry but then she just sighed. "Yeah.. I am sorry for ignoring your advice in Nantucket. I will follow the rules to the T. Also I can smoothly transition into a barista because I worked in a cafe when I was in college."

"I can't believe you worked in a cafe."

"I was bored so I just joined a cafe so that I could learn latte art and all. I got fired though when I threw cold coffee on Tiffany. God that BITCH." She waved her hand.

Such a drama queen.

"I hope you don't do that in yoir new job. Also, you will be working there, at George's cafe in the morning shift. I would prolly be in the opposite park during your shift so that I can keep an eye on you."

"I don't need babys-" Adira stopped herself before she shook her head, as if she was clearing her head. "Okay Cassian. I appreciate it."

What has come over her?

I wanted to ask her and know what was going on in her mind but we were interrupted.

A young boy came running up to us and greeted us. He handed a beautiful blue lily flower in our direction. I just chuckled and looked the other way, assuming that it was for Adira.

"Awww aren't you a sweetie. Thank y-" Adira was saying but the boy interrupted her.

"This flower is not for you. Its for him." My eyes shit towards him as he handed me the flower.

"Who gave it?" I asked my eyes narrowing, instantly not trusting this.

The boy pointed across the road. "Him."

My eyes followed the direction he was pointing in and my eyes met one of the most gorgeous eyes I had ever seen.

Green ones met hazel eyes and I was in a trance.

He was standing across the street wearing a full sleeve shirt, with a jacket thrown on top and black jeans. He had twinkling hazel eyes, which gleamed in the rays of the dying sun. A smile was playing on his lips and he had pronounced dimples. He had a sharp jawline and tousled long brown hai, which could not decide which direction they wanted to stay in.

Let me tell you, I'm straight but I have never seen such a handsome and beautiful man in my life before.

He had a tall and lean frame with both his hands in his pockets. When our eyes met he lifted a hand and gave me a small wave. I couldn't help but grin and wave him back, the joy in his eyes was contagious. With that he turned and strolled down the street, disappearing into the crowd of people.

"Cassian... Who is he?" Adira asked, breaking my reverie as she eyes him.

I looked down at the lily he gave me and shrugged.

"I don't know..."

But I am intrigued...

honestly I was so demotivated that I almost didn't post this chapter

the tags are not working as you have seen me whine about it lmao but meh

I hope you guys liked this chapter!!

like comment reblog and let me know what do you think?

and like please, don't let this flop otherwise I swear I will feel like the biggest clown hahahha

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split-n-splice · 4 years

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Oop, a longer chapter. Bear with me.

[Chapter Guide | FFn | Ao3]

40. Whose Side – 3

Her foul mood was expected, but her curt greeting still stung like a viper bite.

“I-I’m sorry I’m late,” sputtered Drakken, glancing at his bitter passenger. Making up excuses was a lost cause, but the feeble explanation tumbled out of his mouth before he could think to match her callous attitude. “I slept through my alarm, a-and I got distracted, and then you didn’t answer when I called so I figured I had best come check on you, but you weren’t home—”

“Drakken,” she interrupted tersely with a voice cold and sharp as ice.

He gulped. “Yes, Shego?”

“Shut up.”

He bit his cheek to silence an objection. The van idled a moment more as he studied her dark glare fixed dead ahead, her arms folded tight across herself and the faintest hint of green glimmering from between her fingers, visibly containing how upset she was at – at him? What had he done? Besides forget to pick her up from Buckley’s again? He wracked his brains quickly, but decided figuring her out was best saved for another time.

Attempting to appease her didn’t suit the image he was going for. He’d have to work on it. Nonetheless he couldn’t stop himself from piping up. “It’s not too late to pick up some Chow.”

Shego was silent.

Drakken turned the van around and said nothing of it when she dug out a pack of smokes from her pocket to light one up. He certainly kept his eyes off her every time she brought it to her lips to take a puff. Or he tried to, anyway.

By the time he’d navigated his way back to the Cow-n-Chow, she’d relaxed enough to kick her feet up on the dash and tune the radio. That came as some relief, but he knew better than to believe the danger had passed. Drakken was ready to order her usual for her when she spoke up, requesting salad instead. Erring on the side of caution, he ordered her usual anyway, which she tucked into and finished without a word before demanding another stop for a video rental.

He anticipated being presented with a dark and ominous film, but instead she returned to the van dully announcing she could use a laugh, and flashed the cover of a detective comedy. He had mixed feelings about the whimsical man in the picture, but ultimately decided it wasn’t his movie to watch and so the only opinion he spared was a grunt.

“Anything else?” could have been asked a little more nicely, but she could have answered a little more crossly too so he counted his blessings.

“Yeah. Do you have popcorn back home or should we pick some up?”

A sound of frustration snuck out of his mouth, but at least he could nod.

She’d get her popcorn and movie, and he – he had a backlog to catch up on. If there was any urgency to complete projects though, he quickly forgot about it when Shego’s fingers curled around his arm as he made to cross the tech lab to head downstairs. Weak against her pull, he followed her lead with nary a word in defiance.

He barely stifled his protest when he was shoved down onto the couch, his shoulders feeling strangely sunburned where she’d pushed him. “Shego, I can’t��,” was all that made it out of his mouth before her cold stare shut him up. He sat stiffly in place for a minute, contemplating ways to get out of a goodie-goodie comedy he already owned a copy of. He told her where the popcorn was when asked, but otherwise kept his lips zipped tight as the buttery aroma warmed the stale air.

Shego still wore the same stony glare as she wordlessly turned down the lights, popped in the tape, and threw herself down on the far end of the couch, guarding her bowl of popcorn she didn’t seem keen on sharing.

By the light of the previews, Drakken dared to watch her from the corner of his eye – and before they were over, he’d found the gall to unzip his lips. “Do I need to build a brain tap machine to figure out what has you so…so…,” pissed off would not be a safe choice of words, he decided as Shego’s glare turned to sear through him. “Because I can and I will.” How hard could it be? Like a lie detector, but more in depth, right?

“Stay. Out. Of my brain,” she ground out. Slumping further and drawing her knees up, she added in a small grumble, “Jackass.”

He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve her ire, but he knew a brain tap machine was off the table. For now.

Drakken crossed his arms and willed his gaze to stay on the television, but it strayed once more as scenes he’d seen before played out. She couldn’t be that angry at him for being so unfashionably late, could she? Puzzled, he stared until her jaded gaze darted to him, if only for a split second.

He hardened his own frown on the television, willing his arms to unfold, bracing himself to stand on the count of three – or ten – or one hundred. He made it to the count of sixty-five when he bit the bullet. His butt was lucky to have made it an inch from the cushion when a hand snapped out, nails digging into his shoulder. He could smell the trace of fabric smoldering beneath Shego’s palm, and felt the tremble before she retracted her grip and stuffed her hands in her armpits to hide the faint green glimmer emanating from her palms.

Swallowing and setting his jaw, Drakken stared down the moody young woman who did not appear to be enjoying her movie whatsoever. “I have better things to do with my time than—,” he began tersely, but of course was interrupted by his puzzling company.

“Lipsky, you are going to watch this normal movie with me, on a normal couch, on a normal television,” she said, her voice bearing a threat of consequence if he dared defy her. “And it’s going to be – I’m going to be—,” she was swallowing hard then as if to gulp down the frog in her throat, batting her lashes to blink away – oh for Pete’s sake, were her eyes misty?

This wasn’t a tearjerker movie, but he glanced to the television anyway as some silly, borderline obscene, gag played out.

“Yes?” he carefully urged, playing the odds she might shed a little light on the situation.

Shego all but blew up on him, flipping the bowl of popcorn balanced on her knees in the process. “NORMAL!” she shouted in frustration, and in the dim light, he caught a glimpse of the green embers fizzling and oozing from her palms as she clawed the air as if she wished to wring someone’s neck. “I want to feel normal! Just for a little while. So please. Forget about anything outside of this room for the next ninety minutes. Just shut up. Shut up and watch the fucking movie with me.” Given the daggers she shot at the television, it was a wonder she didn’t pelt it with plasma.

The startling outburst had Drakken pressed to the far corner of the couch, but at least she didn’t paw at any tears. She looked as though she’d rather throw punches before she let tears roll down her cheeks, though he was sure he saw the threat looming by the rapid flutter of her eyelids. He studied her as she curled into herself again.

He scoffed and gestured to his own blue skin. “Normal? Shego, normal is something people like us aren’t likely to be getting back,” he blurted out, much colder than intended. Even if true, once the words left his mouth, he braced to be struck with a punch, or maybe a glow-laced punch, or maybe hands around his throat, or—

Shego drew a shuddering breath and continued to glare at the television as though that would be enough to let out whatever pent-up frustration he was caught in the crossfire of. “It’s not just that,” he barely heard her grumble into her knees.

“Then what?” Drakken carped. She’d said shut up. He should have listened.

Thankfully a reprimand – verbal or physical – didn’t come, though he was so braced for one he was starting to cramp up. Shego was quiet for a long moment, until finally she exhaled slowly as though to calm herself. He swore he could see it, like breath on a chilly morning or a thin wisp of smoke after taking a drag. “It’s personal,” she said decisively.

In that case, whatever business she had with his television and couch tonight was none of his. Before second thoughts could weigh him down again, Drakken stood and played deaf to her displeased grunt behind him. He glanced to the door. He did have things to do. But he also had something he’d wanted to show her. He’d even tried to tell her so earlier, but she’d been determined to make him sit and keep her company.

“Do you mind if I—”

“Yes,” she snapped.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” he griped back, barely without whining, and pinched the bridge of his nose before trying again. “I think you’ll like it. I was really looking forward to showing it to you.”

It was the truth. He’d intended to show her the rare orchid sometime this evening, ever since she’d asked about it on the ride to Buckley’s Brew. And right now, she sure looked like she could use something to lift her spirits. Though there was also a risk, given the funk she was in, that she could destroy the specimen without regard to its value or the lengths he’d gone through to construct the miniature biosphere to grow the picky plant in, let alone the seeds he’d acquired in a high-stakes gamble. With a little work under the scope, the plant he’d genetically-modified himself months ago had been brought to bloom years ahead of schedule.

Shego’s misty-eyed glare burned into him for a long moment before she gave a stubborn sniff and reached for the remote to stop the movie with a loud crackle of white-noise filling the room. “Whatever,” she said coldly. “I’m going to get dressed for bed.”

It was barely six in the evening – but Drakken refrained from bringing that up as she shouldered past him. Her burnt mattress and linen had yet to be replaced. He desperately hoped that by tomorrow, his couch wouldn’t need to be replaced too. He frowned down to the marks she’d left on his coat, blue fabric singed black where shoulder pads ought to be, and discarded the victim of his volatile hot-tempered accomplice over the back of a barstool.

He slowly counted to three – only three – before leaving his living quarters and into the tech lab. Already, Shego was nowhere in sight, but as he passed down the hall toward his office, he heard the shower running. He tried not to slow or pause or lean toward the washroom door, but he didn’t make it past in time to miss a distinct sniffle inside. She couldn’t possibly be that upset he’d failed to pick her up from Buckley’s. Personal, she’d said. Then it was none of his business, he reminded himself, squaring his shoulders and stalking off for his office once more.

She wanted to be normal, she’d stressed. What was that supposed to mean? Drakken again wracked his brains. What was her idea of normal? Was she homesick? Did she regret passing up her opportunity to rejoin her brothers? Just a few nights ago, when he’d mistakenly brought his own personal woes to her, they’d sat together in front of her television and she’d drowsily reminisced about piling up on the sofa for family movie nights, failing to console him through his acceptance that he may never see his own family again – though he could barely relate to whole idea of family movie nights as an only child. Did she miss that? Not being alone? He knew she had four brothers, at least, and a father, and presumably a mother too – in other words, some aspect of her normal was a sizable family. He was only one person, and he was not crowding henchmen into his quarters to substitute for a family. Androids and henchmen had to be a sorry substitute for family anyway.

Drakken stopped at the bottom of the staircase, sighing wretchedly and rubbing at a crick in his neck.

It was quite possible he was off the mark, but if she wouldn’t tell him what was on her mind and he couldn’t devise any mind-tapping devices to get to the bottom of it himself, he was left to speculate. Unfortunately speculating was bound to give him a headache. Leaving Shego to sort herself out was possibly for the best, he decided, but he still turned for his desk to retrieve the orchid he’d left there.

He froze in his tracks when he lifted his eyes from the stone floor to see an uninvited figure sitting sidelong in his office chair, holding the glass pod containing the plant. Unplugged from what was essentially its life-support system, the delicate little biosphere was scarcely more than a glorified flowerpot, but it was still infuriating to see the intruder turning it over so carelessly.

The wave of alarm washing over him had Drakken scanning the room, frantically questioning where he’d had that blasted intruder alert button installed. That’s right – it was at the CCTV system desk across the office, in convenient reach of any henchman on security duty. Why didn’t he have a henchman stationed there anyway? He should know better than to let his guard down with a perceived threat in the area! He grit his teeth, inwardly berating himself.

“So,” cooed the young woman behind his desk before he could storm up to her. “Who’s this for?”

Frozen, Drakken couldn’t help a nervous gulp. There was no way she could know he’d brought it up from the basement for Shego. Then again, maybe she did. He thought out loud sometimes, and this stranger had the gift of invisibility to make spying a breeze. “Shego,” he growled through his teeth, though it wasn’t so much an answer as it was the irate wish for his accomplice to be beside him to explain the woman’s presence.

Miss Kimbley arched an eyebrow and smirked. “She doesn’t go for flowers,” she informed as if offering a helpful piece of information. “Oh, but try a fish dinner!” she recommended instead, smiling wider and chuckling, though Drakken failed to see what was so funny as there was certainly nothing comical about the territory she was suggesting. Even the henchcrew was strongly advised against cracking jokes of such nature.

Cheeks warming over, Drakken fixed a grimace on his face and hoped it was enough to mask his fluster. He sputtered something indignant and incoherent before he could stop himself, and he bit his tongue with a grunt and tried to form the words right before he spoke again. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?” he demanded, crossing the room to yank the spherical biosphere from the intruder’s hands. She was Shego’s acquaintance, but he was certain Shego wouldn’t have willingly invited her in.

The woman shied back just a little bit at the bite in his tone, but then she rose to her feet, pushing the biosphere aside to stand toe to toe. Drakken decided to set it down for safety’s sake, though the thought occurred too late to cradle it in his arms and make a mad dash upstairs for Shego. Instead he glanced across the room toward the CCTV desk, wildly seeking the button to sound the alarm, and lurched back from the fingers spreading over his chest.

“I have an offer for you, Mr…?” said Miss Kimbley, but he recognized a honeycoated tone when he heard one.

“Drakken,” he hissed. He batted the hand away, taking a swift step back toward the staircase – and most importantly the alarm button across the room. “Dr. Drakken.” Hadn’t he clarified that earlier? Alias or not, maybe he shouldn’t be giving his name out to a potential Global Justice spy. Even so, if she had something to offer, she had something to gain, and it was practically reflex to inquire, “What do you want?”

Despite another step back, the intruder was invading his space once again. “Better question,” she chimed, giving the bottom of his tie a tug. He snatched her hand this time, and tried not to consider how cold her fingers felt compared to Shego’s, which he could so often feel warming him even through his gloves. She didn’t let up, clearly not taking the hint nor offence to his scowl and raised lip. “What do you want, Doctor?”

Impulse urged him to snap at her that he wanted her out of his lair. The woman was trespassing, therefore posed a threat, and he was inclined to trust Shego’s judgment that he ought to keep his distance. Which was hard to do with his back against the wall. His mouth was dry. Where was that button? Better yet, where was Shego?

“Whatever she’s offering, I can do better,” said the confident pretty little thing before him in a voice that made his stomach give a sickened flip-flop. An odd shimmer like a mirage glazed over the woman and she was gone – to the naked eye, anyway. He knew better than to believe she had left, not when he still felt the invisible touch running down his stomach and—

If he hadn’t had a reason to panic before, he certainly did at the first tug of his belt.

“Hands off, missy!” snarled Drakken, leaping to the side and stumbling over his own feet. He reached for his waist – everything was in place – and just to be sure everything was in order, he tucked his shirt in a little neater.

The ghost of Shego’s past was visible again, down on her knees, a chafed look on her face for a split second before one of deep consideration settled in its place. Her gaze strayed from him as he regained his composure, her hazel eyes darting to his filing cabinet. One of the drawers had been pulled open. Had she been rifling through his files? Without a doubt, if she was here to spy.

“You need a thief, right?” she said, taking a stab at finding his sweet spot from another angle. “Assassin? Watchdog? I’m your gal.” She stood, gesturing to herself.

She most certainly was not his gal. He didn’t have a gal. And even if he did, even if Shego – Drakken stopped that thought in its tracks and gnashed his teeth, hoping his glare was as menacing as the ones he practiced in the mirror. But by the slow bat of the intruder’s fake eyelashes, it was not.

“I’ll have to get back to you on that,” he ground out, gesturing to the stairwell to signal it was time she took her leave. If she couldn’t take the hint, then he didn’t need someone on his crew who needed it spelled out for them.

Priscilla Kimbley glanced from the stairs to him, the calculating look still set in her furrowed brow. “Look, man, I need a change of pace,” she said pointedly, taking a step closer once again, but he squared his shoulders and balled his fists and she paused. Hopefully intimidated. Hopefully thinking twice about trying underhanded persuasion a second time. “Looks to me like Shego struck gold here. I saw some of your shit in the basement. Pretty wicked stuff.” Her wry smile was back. She couldn’t still be pushing for what he thought she was, could she? She didn’t look like the henchwoman type. She wouldn’t last a week in villainy.

Drakken glanced across the room to the button again. He could press it now, and Priscilla could be gone by the time the henchmen assembled, and if Shego was still in the shower – well, whatever the case, the intruder would be long gone before anyone could hope to catch her.

“Shego is more than I can handle, thank you,” he said stiffly, stepping toward the stairwell and nodding up it. He needed this woman out of his lair, before Shego could see her and he risked having another catfight on his hands. “Goodbye, please leave.” If only it was that easy. She understood the hint. No one was that stupid.

She still took her time sauntering over to him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she said flippantly. “She’s not even giving you one-hundred percent.”

True, he wasn’t taking advantage of his accomplice’s full potential, but she did what he asked of her and that was enough. He still couldn’t stop his brow from scrunching as the intruder passed him and took the first step up. He nearly reached out to snatch her by an arm. “What do you mean?” he all but demanded.

The young woman paused to glance back. “She’s on drugs,” she answered simply, as though it were obvious.

And maybe it was obvious to anyone who knew the troubled superhuman. He’d like to think he knew her well enough. He’d smelled evidence on her before, and she’d made a friendly offer the other night and had the paraphernalia and everything. “I am aware she smokes—”

Priscilla Kimbley laughed, the single bark echoing up the stairwell, and she clamped her mouth shut as if only realizing now how well sound traveled in the lair’s stony corridors. “Nah, not that kind,” she said, toning it down to little more than a giggle. She set her hands on her hips, beaming down at Drakken, and he hated having to tilt his head to look up at the woman standing several steps above him now as she explained. “This shit puts her out cold. And I do mean cold. Total chill pills. Those megalomaniacs pulling the strings of that little superhero team of hers use it to keep her under control. I can get you some, if you wanna mess with it.” She gave a nonchalant shrug, as if offering to give him some miracle drug to control someone as dangerous and unpredictable as Shego was no big deal.

“I-I know about that too,” he bluffed. But did he really? He’d had a suspicion she’d been taking something, but it could have been anything. Truthfully he hadn’t given it much thought, but he wracked his brains quickly now.

When she’d first arrived, she’d skulked through his lair half-asleep occasionally, sometimes grumbling about withdrawals late at night amidst her unique issues – issues which were just now proving to be not as benign as he’d thought, if her crispy mattress had anything to say about it. If such a drug did exist, why in the world would she be back on it? Was she relapsing? She couldn’t be. She’d been so excited to use her full power when he’d made her the enhancing gloves – why would she self-sabotage herself to turn down the heat? Where would she have even gotten such a drug?

Drakken’s mind didn’t finish reeling through the possibilities before he blurted, “She doesn’t take them anymore—”

The intruder scoffed and reached into a pocket, producing a little orange bottle. She rattled the contents. “And you believed her?” she jeered down at him.

Drakken made a reflexive grab for the bottle but the woman held it out of reach with a wicked snicker before surrendering it without further difficulty. He couldn’t believe his eyes. It had to be just a bottle of aspirin, but the label – bearing a bar code and dosage with the instructions Take with food before bed, prescribed to simply Shego – looked legitimate enough, even if it didn’t clarify what the drug was. He trusted his accomplice leagues more than this shifty intruder, and he trusted her not to weaken herself – not to mention, if she was taking it, then she would have to be in contact with the supplier, Global Justice, and there was no way—

“I’ll let you sleep on it,” said Priscilla, interrupting his doubtful train of thought. She smiled again as she backed away up the staircase. “Roofie her if you don’t believe me. Only way you’ll get to have a little fun with her.”

He had plenty of fun with Shego – Vegas and the stolen station wagon were still fairly fresh in his mind – but as the words sank in, he concluded that spray painting graffiti and pushing cars off cliffs wasn’t the kind of fun this woman was suggesting. He opened his mouth to object, to defend himself or Shego or them both, but the intruder had vanished in the blink of an eye.

Maybe Shego hadn’t been over-exaggerating when she’d said the woman was not a friend. Maybe she’d had every reason to attack her when she’d arrived on her doorstep.

Stupefied for a second too long, he was late in diving up the stairwell, reaching out to grasp at open air, hoping to catch the invisible lady in his lair, but his hand met only empty air. “I am not drugging my partner in crime,” he hissed out, knowing she must still be near enough to hear him, and strained to listen for the slightest breath or shuffle of retreating feet.

He heard nothing.

Still clutching the pill bottle in one hand, daring not stow it in a pocket lest the intruder merely steal it back – invisiblity had to grant an innate talent for pick-pocketing – Drakken climbed the staircase a few steps more, his free hand outstretched and feeling uselessly for the invisible intruder. When he decided it was a lost cause, he let his hand fall and he snorted his frustration. An invisible woman who didn’t want to be caught would be a challenge to catch without a full sweep of the lair with infrared goggles, and he simply didn’t have enough for every henchman, nor did he have his own handy.

“I am not drugging Shego,” he repeated to himself, though as he returned to his office, pills in hand, he had to wonder how often she drugged herself. He tried to guess how many pills were in the bottle – the label specified 30 – and wanted to believe that most, if not all, were still accounted for. Where had Shego even gotten the pills? Had she brought them from Go City? She couldn’t possibly still be in contact with that rotten Global Justice – that would make her a spy, wouldn’t it? He trusted her not to be a spy. He knew it in his gut! Her brothers, on the other hand…

He shook his head but it didn’t clear up the plague of second thoughts he had now about his partner.

Drakken dropped himself down in his desk chair and pushed up his glasses to rub his weary eyes until stars burst behind his eyelids. Friday night, Shego had behaved especially strangely. He didn’t want to consider the possibility it wasn’t just the alcohol to blame – but he’d been sober enough at the time she’d stolen his cheese to make out her cursing to herself about needing to eat with something she damned with enough profanity to make a sailor blush. Looking at the bottle of pills now, the instructions take with food served as a jigsaw piece he didn’t want. The puzzle was coming together and he didn’t like the picture it formed.

How had Priscilla Kimbley gotten hold of Shego’s medication anyway? Were they working together, conspiring against him? No, of course not. Shego clearly had a beef with the woman, and she reminded him at every opportunity.

He’d very much like to believe Miss Kimbley was pulling his leg, but evidence pointed to Shego’s use of the mysterious medication. He shook the bottle around again and counted carefully – recounting at least two more times for good measure. There were a few missing. So what? That was proof of nothing. That Kimbley woman could have easily stolen a few. And if Kimbley had stolen them from Shego, then she would be missing them.

As Drakken was battling to convince himself that his companion wasn’t taking some strange chill pill provided by Global Justice, soft footsteps descending the staircase made him jump.

It was only Shego, in her googly-eyed owl pajamas and soft green slippers – not the sight one would expect in a lair of all places, but regrettably a sight for sore eyes nonetheless. Her hair was still damp, and her voice was a little on the hoarse side when she croaked, “Hey,” in greeting.

Drakken didn’t realize how fast he could move until he’d stuffed the bottle in his pocket and come to stand beside her. “Are you ready for that movie now?” he blurted, though he wasn’t eager to watch it himself, if he was being honest. Somehow it felt like an appropriate change of subject.

She sniffed, nose stuffy, and gave a weak smile. “I’unno,” she said with an effort at dry wit, “are you ready to be cute and cuddly?”

His legs felt weak and his heart thrummed meekly against his ribs. He wasn’t cuddle material nor did he strive to be cute, yet the prospect she might think so gave him an itch to try it out anyway. “I-I’m—let’s not get ahead of yourselves,” he stammered with a nervous smile.

She reached out for his arm, fingers curling delicately into his sleeve. She didn’t inadvertently burn him when she touched him this time, though by the look of concentration skewing her face, she was trying hard not to. “You wanted to show me something?”

In that moment, he tried to forget just how nice she smelled fresh out of the shower, and tried to think of how lovely the orchid did instead. And then he sharply reprimanded himself – because giving the orchid a whiff when his nerves were high would only heighten them, and he didn’t need any mood enhancers, for good or for bad, at a time like this. Neither did Shego, for that matter, but he turned back for his desk and the biosphere anyway.

“Now, it’s not for keeps,” he warned, gesturing to his desk and the flower on it. “But it looks nice, no? Y-you probably shouldn’t sniff it. It has strong effects on the brain. Amplifies – uhm – maybe when you’re in a better mood.” The blossom was largely unstudied, but by what he had gathered, the potent flower could act as ecstasy or it could plunge a person into depression, and cause any number of wild mood swings depending on the circumstances.

He went on to explain the exotic pink blossom to her, the lengths he’d gone to cultivate it, and its potential – but she looked bored the entire time his mouth was moving. Maybe that Priscilla woman was right, he considered, disheartened as he set the biosphere aside. Shego really didn’t seem all that impressed by flowers, even flowers as difficult to grow as genetically-modified orchids in climate-controlled biospheres. He made a mental note to find some she did like – and corrected himself that it was only to prove Shego’s indifference wasn’t withstanding among all flowers. No one hated flowers that much, except maybe the odd villain or two who utterly despised healthy ecosystems.

Shego pulled at his sleeve. “Okay,” she said, sounding bored to death. “You like gardening. Great. Can we go back upstairs and play pretend now?” She seemed more stable now, at least.

Drakken couldn’t help a sigh. “Do I have to pretend to be cute and cuddly?” The idea still had him uncertain. Especially the idea of cuddling – a possibility seeming realer by the moment, and with her no less – well, it made his insides do a nervous jig. There were more productive ways to spend his time, and yet he was compelled to bend to her will.

She flashed an impish smile. “You don’t have to pretend.”

“Good.”

“Because you already are, flower boy.” She turned away then with a small laugh at his grunt of indignation.

Despite what should have been an offence to his villainous ego, he followed her back up the stairs. His smile on her back faded though, and he reached almost involuntarily for his pocket and the pills in it. Pills prescribed by Global Justice.

Keeping his eyes up, he studied the back of her head, eyes inadvertently drawn to something that stood out against the sheet of black. Maybe he just hadn’t walked close enough behind her to see them before. There wasn’t much to see there on the back of her head – except, of course, a grey hair or two he hadn’t noticed until now with her hair damp and sticking flat around her shoulders.

Following Shego back to his quarters, Drakken tried not to stare too hard. She seemed too young for grey hair, but he was mindful enough to keep the thought to himself. She wasn’t older than she said she was, was she? No, of course not. He’d first met her as an awkward teenager – well, technically she still was a teenager – but it was only four years ago or so that he’d first encountered her. She’d been in rough shape, but thinking back, she’d still been very much a kid then. He hadn’t been in the best shape himself either, and he’d been in even worse shape when he’d ditched her at that lonely rest stop in the middle of nowhere.

Something about that fateful day echoed at the far reaches of his mind, just out of his grasp. Something about Subject B.

Drakken mulled it over as he made a fresh batch of popcorn while Shego sheepishly swept up the mess she’d made earlier.

It wasn’t until she was sitting on his couch, awaiting his return with the bowl, did it finally resound clearly in his head and out of his mouth. “Subject B is liable to break down in a matter of years,” he muttered incredulously to himself, staring down at the grey strands standing boldly against her unnaturally iridescent raven locks.

The thought of cellular damage crossed his mind. If her body hadn’t adapted to her alien power, the plasmic fire would have destroyed her years ago as surely as it would have anyone else’s who came in contact. Thankfully the first round of researchers had clearly been wrong about her – try as she might, Subject B hadn’t destroyed herself during the metamorphosis – but that didn’t mean they were entirely wrong, either. Without a so-called chill pill to suppress the flame, was she still at risk of hurting herself? Had Global Justice been doing her a favor by regulating her alien glow in some way?

Shego glanced back at him innocently, tearing her eyes off her movie. “What was that?” he barely heard her ask.

“Nothing,” he answered quickly, sitting down awkwardly on the far end of the couch, the bowl of popcorn set on the one cushion between them.

He tried to face the movie and eat popcorn one puff at a time from the palm of his hand while his companion snacked by the handful. He didn’t make it long before his eyes slid across to her, the thoughts still wreaking havoc in his head.

She caught him staring. “What?”

“Nothing,” he blurted, gaze snapping away briefly. “Um. Actually.” He was sitting on the pill bottle in his back pocket. He shifted, but it didn’t make his rear feel any better. Unabashedly studying the woman in her pajamas now, the question “Are you on any special medication?” escaped his trap.

Shego quirked her brow at him, suspicion fleeting on her face, but she laughed awkwardly. She took a guess, “Like…what? Birth control?”

He had to dismiss that one the best he could, awkwardly scratching at his neck. “Ah, no. That probably couldn’t hurt, but no, I mean – what I’m asking is – I’m just wondering if you’re taking anything. That’s all.” He swallowed and waited.

She dropped the wry playful act, her glare hardening on him. “No,” she denied, though he could hear the lie laced in her tone alone. “What makes you think that?” She needed to work on her deception skills.

“Nothing. Nothing, just…” Drakken blurted, realizing he was just as bad. His own pulse thundered in his ears. If Shego had put Priscilla up to giving him the pills, she’d be expecting him to come clean, wouldn’t she? And if she hadn’t, she’d have to expect him to return the stolen item. And if they were stolen, and if she was on medication, then maybe she needed them. “Well, actually, you said something the other night. And I just thought, if they help…maybe you’d want these back. I believe these are yours.” Swallowing doubt and anxiety and anything else, Drakken fished out the bottle from his back pocket and held his hand outstretched, bottle in his palm for her to take.

Shego’s eyes locked on the bottle. She reached for it but withdrew her hand just as quickly, wringing her fingers. “No, thanks. I don’t need that shit,” she spat – only to change her mind in the next instant. Before he could argue it or retract the offer to return the medication, she snatched up the bottle and jumped to her feet.

“It might be for your own good, Shego,” he called, leaping up to follow her to the kitchen. Her hands were emitting green cinders as she fought with the child-proof lid. He smelled melting plastic. She was heaving for breath. She was angry. What was she so angry about? It was a damn good thing he hadn’t let her sniff the flower.

“Fuck off!” she shouted vehemently, chucking the bottle with full force in the general vicinity of his sink. The half-melted bottle shattered, little white pills scattering. Before the pills had even stopped bouncing, she scrambled forward to collect him, cursing to herself. “Whose side are you on anyway?” she snapped back at him, voice cracking, as he approached the kitchen island.

“Yours!” Drakken blurted in reflex. “I mean – I thought – I thought you were on mine, is what I mean. And if they help you, maybe you should—”

“No,” she spat. She was trembling, throwing every pill she found into the sink under the running tap. She slammed cabinet doors to find the switch for the garbage disposal. “No, no, no,” she repeated to herself, to every pill she disposed of. He heard her counting them under her breath.

Once the distraught superhuman was sure that every tiny pill had been thoroughly destroyed and washed down the drain, she hovered over his sink, shaking her head as she ran her glowing hands beneath the steaming stream of water while the garbage disposal snarled tirelessly.

Drakken was quiet for a long moment, standing cautiously on the other side of the kitchen island though he knew he wasn’t out of the danger zone. Once her tremors had subsided somewhat and the steam had stopped billowing, he crept forward, daring to stand beside her and shut off the faucet. When he reached for her shoulder, he was just about zapped by the energy radiating unseen from her body.

Despite the shimmer of unchecked green glow glistening over her skin, Shego turned sharply toward him, her face thudding into his chest and arms constricting around him, squeezing the breath out of him in a bear hug comparable to his mother’s. The only difference was Shego was not his mother, and her body burned like a furnace against him, namely her hands digging into his back. He winced. The plasma burns eating holes in his shirt would need lotion later.

Bearing it, Drakken squeezed his eyes shut, choosing not to look so closely at her grey hairs, evidence she might very well be breaking down in some way. She was certainly breaking down on an emotional level, anyway. Cute and cuddly, he reminded himself as he gingerly held her by the shoulders, desperately hoping to channel whatever cute and cuddly part of him she’d been hoping for tonight even if it wasn’t his normal.

He knew the third degree was coming when his companion went rigid and roughly shoved him back, an accusatory glare written across her face. Drakken didn’t wait for her to demand answers before opening his big mouth to spill the beans.

#Kim Possible #Drakgo #Drakken #Shego #Dr. Drakken #The Company You Keep fic

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fortune-fool02 · 4 years

Text

Their Happily Ever After

Imp Gyro Zeppeli x Princess female reader

Fairy Tale AU

This was inspired after watching Shrek 2 I need a Hero scene. This is kinda long. Please enjoy.

Hooves slammed against the ground rapidly, almost shaking the area around it as the horse galloped down the street; the steed’s rider encouraging the horse to gallop faster, his heart drumming against his chest, ready to burst from his rib cage.

But that meant little to Gyro, all that matter to him was getting to his wife, [Name], before she was stolen away from him forever. The mere thought of her with that bastard made his blood boil with rage. It was a trick right from the very beginning, since the second they got to this damn kingdom they were walking right into their trap and they were completely oblivious to it. By plucking at his heart strings, Fairy Godfather Valentine had been able to twist Gyro’s beliefs to how he wanted it.

And now Gyro was at risk of loosing the love of his life to that slippery bastard, Prince Diego Brando.

***

His emerald green eyes were wet with tears at the scene before him, his hands pounding against the window in a vain hope that [Name] would hear him and turn to see that the man next to her was not him but someone else entirely. But, even though he and Diego looked absolutely nothing alike, she was unaware of what Gyro had done. The affects of the potion he had taken had affect both himself and her, transforming them into the “perfect” fairy tale lovers but with her oblivious to it, she was just lost.

“[Name]!” Gyro shouted, hitting the window again but it was to no avail. She couldn’t hear him.

“[Name]!” Valentine also shouted, attempting to sound like he was trying but it was clear he knew they could not be heard. Just how he had planned. The blonde fairy turned to the heart-broken male, a sympathetic mask carved into his face like stone. “I don’t think she can hear us, lad.”

A blade struck through Gyro’s chest at those words, knowing them to be true. “Look, I know this must be painful for you but this is what’s for the best. For [Name].” Gyro tore his gaze away from the scene and looked at Valentine, the hope in his eyes dying before the man like a flame dying, reducing to nothing but glowing embers and crumbling away.

“But, look at me,” he motioned to himself. His appearance almost unrecognisable from the potion. Who was once an Italian creature of myth was now a human male, even he didn’t recognise himself when he first awoke as this. How could he expect [Name] to know? “Look at what I’ve done for her.”

Valentine gave a small head shake, that fake smile on his lips still, “It’s time you stopped living in a fairy tale, Gyro.” he said, “[Name]’s a princess and you’re an imp. That’s something no amount of magic will ever change.” Despite what Gyro wanted to believe, Valentine’s words were true. He turned back to the window, the gnawing feeling of defeat sinking into his muscles, weighing him down like a boulder had been dropped on him. Diego’s arms wrapped around [Name], pulling her into an embrace.

“But, I love her.” he muttered. Valentine’s hand fell upon his shoulder,

“If you truly do love her, you’ll let her go.”

And Gyro did. He left the castle without a word, storming past Johnny and making his way…. somewhere. Somewhere to forget the pain. As agonising as it was, everyone was right. Imps and princess don’t live happily ever after. Princesses got their prices and Imps… they were left to be Imps; thieving, mischievous creatures that often terrorised princesses. If this was what Gyro had to do in order for [Name] to be happy then he was willing to bare the pain.

Well, that would have been what happened if Gyro didn’t notice [Name]’s father ask for Valentine’s location in the back of the pub; where Diego was also waiting. Apparently, [Name] was suspicious about her “husband” and was almost trying to distant herself from Diego. This led to this little meeting. Gyro was willing to let [Name] be happy but when Valentine handed [Name]’s father a small vial, telling him that whoever drinks it will fall in love with the fist person they kissed, he knew he couldn’t stand by and let them do this to [Name].

Upon discovery of their unwanted eavesdroppers, Valentine had the guards go after them, shouting an raving about them being terrorists and traitors to the country.

And now, with time against them, Gyro and Johnny had to do everything they could to stop that kiss at the ball tonight. Or Gyro would lose [Name] for good.

***

[Name] watched from her window as her “husband” made his way down the red-carpet, smiling and posing for the cameras like some form of celebrity. Gyro never did that before. Gyro never did anything that this man was doing. Her [Eye colour] eyes fell down to the ring on her finger, remembering the day that Gyro had proposed to her, asking her to be his princess.

The imp who had asked her to marry him was not the man on that carpet. But… Fairy Godfather Valentine did say that the potion did change some things unintentionally but he had assured her that it was indeed Gyro.

[Name] knew her husband. She didn’t know that man.

A knock at the door caught her attention, her father peering in with a tray in his hands. “Ah, there you are. I thought you’d like a nice cup of tea before the dance.” he said, setting the tray down where two cups sat on. Sighing softly, she looked back outside.

“Father, I know my husband. I know he’s an Imp but I love him.” she said, motioning to “Gyro”, “And that’s not my husband.” Her father gave her a reassuring smile though it was somewhat forced, unsure of what to do.

“W-Well, maybe you’ll like this new Gyro?” [Name] gave a low sigh again, looking down at the ring on her finger with a lost look in her [Eye colour] eyes.

“But it was the old one that I fell in love with.” she spoke softly, a sense of longing in her voice as she wanted nothing more than to have her Gyro back. “I’d give anything to have him back.”

Though she didn’t see it, her father gave her an apologetic look. The guilt of his actions seeping into his bones. What has he done?

***

Valkyrie galloped through the castle gates, Slow Dancer by her side, as both riders carved their path through. Hot Pants and Mountain Tim also aiding them in their quest to rescue the princess from the jaws of the dinosaur. With the sudden crowd of guards appearing behind them, both Hot Pants and Mountain Tim stopped their horses and turned to face the crowd.

“H.P, Mountain Tim!” Gyro shouted upon noticing their friends’ stop. Hot Pants threw a glance over her shoulder.

“Go, your wife needs you!” They were going to hold of the guards and by Gyro time to get to [Name]? He smiled at them, nodding his head and continuing down the hall, hearing the battle begin. Don’t worry [Name], Gyro thought, I’m on my way.

***

Twirling her around and pulling her back into his chest, Diego smirked at the [Hair colour] woman in his arms. Everything was going to plan, by the end of tonight, [Name] was going to be his. He took her hand and spun her around, casting aside the rose in his lips and pulling her in close, inhaling her scent slightly. He could smell Gyro’s scent on her, that’s something he would have to fix later.

As the song began to reach its end, Diego dipped [Name] down, their lips hovering close together. Just one kiss and she was his. Slowly, his lips lowered down to hers. Just as their lips were about to connect, the doors slammed open followed by someone shouting. All eyes turned to the voice and Diego felt his eyes widen at the sight of Gyro and Johnny approaching him.

“Oi, jackass!” Gyro shouted, jumping off his horse and storming over to him. His eyes burning with a flame he has never seen in him before. “Get the Hell away from my wife!”

Confusion painted [Name]’s face at this, taking a step away from Diego and throwing glances between the two males. Before she could step too far away from Diego, Valentine suddenly called out.

“She’s taken the potion! Kiss her now!” Gyro’s eyes widened at that, his hand outstretched to throw his Steel Ball when Diego grabbed [Name]’s wrist and pulled her close, forcing his lips upon her.

“No!” He was too late. It was done. He had lost [Name].

Diego pulled away from her, his lips lifted into a soft smirk as she looked at him with such a sweet, adoring expression. The kind one would have when in love. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, throwing a glance at Gyro who had fallen to his knees at this. Diego had won.

Slowly, [Name]’s hands rose up to Diego’s face, gently cupping his cheeks before she suddenly shot her head forward, smacking him with enough force to knock him down for a few moments, throwing everyone off guard.

She turned and rushed over to Gyro, throwing her arms around him and holding him close. “Gyro, what’s happen-?” [Name] was cut off by Gyro pushing her aside just as Diego lunged at him, pinning him to the floor. Fangs bared and claws pushing through his gloves.

“You just couldn’t leave everything alone, could you?” the blonde snarled, digging his claws in deeper. Gyro narrowed his emerald green eyes at him,

“If you think I’d let you put your filthy lips against my wife’s then you’re a fuckin’ idiot!” He brought his foot up and slammed it in Diego’s stomach, forcing the man off of him and jumping to his feet.

His Steel Balls in his hands, ready for any attack as he looked over at Valentine who glared dagger at him. Anger radiated from the Fairy Godfather as he shot up into the air, charging at Gyro. Once he was close enough, he was shot down by Johnny, his form thrown off balance and colliding into the tables, his wand falling from his hand. At the clink of the wand, both Gyro and Diego looked at the magical weapon, locked eyes and charged for it.

Gyro had been able to knock it from Diego’s hands, throwing it somewhere away from them and hoping that someone caught it. Diego’s clawed hands grasped Gyro’s throat, pinning him down and wrapping his tail around the man, restraining him as Valentine approached. Wand in hand.

“This could have ended much easier, Gyro, if you just did as we told you.” the blonde man hissed, the wand twirling in his hand as he stood in front of the hatted man.

“Valentine!” All eyes turned to the voice and Valentine’s eyes widened. [Name] stood, hands shaking slightly, as she tightly grasped a wand. His wand. He looked at the one in his hand to see it was a dinner knife, an illusion. Discarding the useless item, he turned to the [Hair colour] woman.

“[Name], go! Get away from him!” Gyro shouted only to have Diego tighten his grip further, almost chocking the man. [Name] didn’t move. She stood there, eyes locked with Valentine’s.

“[Name], don’t do anything stupid.” he said, holding his hand out, “Give me the wand.” She shook her head, taking a step away from him. An annoyed sigh slipped his lips. “You know I am doing this for you. I’m trying to give you your happily ever after.”

There was a moment of silence as [Name] glared at him, her grip not faltering as she held the wand. “I already had my happily ever after, Valentine. You tried to take that from me.”

Before Valentine could react, a bolt of magic shot from the wand and struck him; the magic flowing through his body and destroying his cells, crumbling them away into nothing but ash. [Name] blinked, dropping the wand and falling to her knees, the weight of the situation crashing against her. Gyro felt Diego’s grip loosen, using that moment to escape the dinosaur’s grasp and run to his wife’s side, pulling her into an embrace.

“Gyro, please tell me that’s really you.” He smiled, lifting her head so she was looking at him,

“It’s me, baby. I promise.” That voice. That tone. That look in his eyes. That smile. It was all him. This was her husband. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, pulling him close in fear of losing him again. “I thought I lost you then.” he whispered, savouring the feeling of her in his arms.

“I love you, Gyro.” she said, burying her face into his chest.

“I love you too, [Name].”

#gyro #gyro zeppeli #jojo bizarre adventure #gyro x reader #gyro zeppeli x reader #jojo bizzare adventure x reader #jojo #jojo x reader #steel ball run x reader #steel ball run #gyro steel ball run #au #fairy tale au #female reader #reader insert

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