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supernovaae · 1 year ago

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One in Six (Toland x G/N! Reader)

-.'✰'.- [a/n]: finally a full drabble/oneshot. also content for my heinous diabolical king toland (he's coming home soon)

-.'✰'.- Summary: toland decides he wants to play russian roulette while the two of you make out in an empty meeting room.

-.'✰'.- Content Warnings; guns/gun usage (the gun is pointed at both of you/the trigger is pulled, but bullets are not fired), etc.

-.'✰'.- Additional Information: Minors DNI (just to be safe), gets a little suggestive at the end, autassassinophilia and erotophonophilia (i guess), russian roulette (kinda), i know absolutely nothing about describing revolvers, not proofread, grammatical errors, possibly ooc, reader is implied to be an Esper (their abilities are not used or specified).

You're on top of him, legs straddling his lap as your hands grab the lapels of his shirt, pulling him closer. His coat laid abandoned on the floor, having been carelessly thrown away a little while ago. One of his hands gently grasped your waist, the other was splayed on the space between your shoulder blades as he quickly and greedily stole kiss after kiss from your lips. Earlier, while you were collecting Miramon in the field, he'd sent you a message, saying he needed you to do something important for him. You weren't exactly busy – the only assignments you had to complete were some paperwork and your Miramon collection quota, which could finished any time within the week, so you obliged.

You can imagine your chagrin when he ushered you back inside the facility and led you down the halls, all while grinning and telling you what he really wanted. At that moment, you were completely prepared to chide him for lying to you and go back to work just to spite him, but somehow, you found yourself swayed by his silver tongue and honeyed words.

Now, you're both alone together in an empty conference room with the doors locked and blinds shut while you two make out on the lone chair at the end of the table.

His fingernails lightly graze your skin, the hand on your waist moving to your back, keeping you near as he leans closer, tipping your body slightly backward.

He pushes his lips onto yours once more, this time in a deeper, more passionate fashion, to which you wholeheartedly return the sentiment, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kiss him back in earnest.

Finally, you both pull away, and Toland's hands draw you even closer to his body as his lips gingerly press against the corner of your mouth before progressively traveling further and further down. One of his hands leaves your back as his lips land over and over again, gingerly peppering you with kisses on your cheek, across your jaw, on the shell of your ear, and down your neck, his tongue periodically swirling and flicking against the skin.

After pushing his lips to your neck once more, Toland punctuates the action with a, “Bang.” mumbled against your skin. A tinny ‘click’ resonates through the air before he plants another heady kiss to your lips.

Your eyelids flutter open, and you nearly choke on your own spit once you see Toland’s gleaming, silver revolver clutched in his hands, barrel held up to the side of his head. You go rigid, staring unblinkingly at the barrel of the gun. Was that clicking noise the sound of him pulling the trigger a few seconds ago?

Why did he... ? A second passes before Toland notices you've become unresponsive to his affectionate gestures and pulls away, his eyes analyzing your petrified expression. He traces your line of sight and follows it to the firearm in his hand, finally getting the hint.

"Ohhhh." He hums, smile returning. The gun lowers from his head as he turns back to you.

"This is nothing. We're just having a little fun," he lilts, heedlessly waving the firearm in small circles while you look on, horrified. He flicks the cylinder and watches it spin, acting completely indifferent to your very evident alarm. "We'll be fine."

It slows and settles into place with a - clack - . There's a glint in his eye, which compliments the crescent moon grin that's growing on his face, splitting his smile in half. "Trust me."

You would've scoffed if you weren't so scared. Trust him? That statement amounted to nothing but a bad joke, given his track record.

Your voice shakes as you lean back. "Is that loaded?" Instead of addressing your concerns in any rational or meaningful way, he gleefully smiles ear to ear. That expression gives it all away. You look on in disbelief. "You can't be serious. Are you crazy?"

He doesn't answer, ignoring your apprehension once again. This time though, he raises his revolver and nudges it's barrel against your temple, not quite pointing it at you. Yet. Your breath stills once you feel the cold metal touch your skin and you freeze in place once again. Toland leans closer to you as his free hand reaches up and cups the back of your head, his fingers splayed over your hair. "What?" An amused chuckle spilled from his mouth. "Are you scared?” He whispers against your lips, his breath warm. “I-” You attempt to verbalize your unease, but he doesn’t give you a chance, pushing your head forward and pressing your lips to his. Gossamer white smoke, a by-product of his Divine Power, gently wafted around the two of you, curling around both your forms as the two of you kissed once more. His tongue danced with yours in a kiss much more forceful and heavy than the ones before, like he was intentionally trying to silence your complaints. After a moment, his hand leaves your hair and moves down your body, tracing your skin with the tips of his fingers as the hand holding the gun moves slightly out of view. The kiss does it's job and distracts you, somewhat making you loosen back up a bit while his hand inches down your back before finally settling near your midriff, where his arm then curls around.

You nearly forgot all about the revolver, but then he pulled the hammer back, the little - click! - immediately breaking your immersion, making you jolt and look over at the gun that was now pointed directly at you. Finally, Toland pulled away from you, just for a moment, letting you breathe. The barrel barely touches your hair before he attempts to dive in again.

“Wait, wait.” You place your hands on his chest, trying to keep him at bay, just for a second or two. In response, he simply quirks an eyebrow. "Can you put that away first?" You gesture at the gun. "Please?" He clicks his tongue before exaggeratedly sighing. "Come on." His free arm comes away from its position your back in favor of moving so his hand can join the two of yours. "It'll be fine."

He nudges your hands out from between the two of you. "Don’t worry." A grin starts to form on his face again, his amusement reflecting greatly in his tone. His hand doesn't return to it's initial position. Instead, it inches upwards, across your chest, tracing your clavicle, grazing your shoulders, and brushing your arm... Cold, hard metal prods the side of your head. His fingers run downward now, moving down your side, your naval, your waist...

“Put a little faith in me,” he croons.

His hand finally comes to rest on your hip, fingers just barely tracing your waistband.

“You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”

[✰-notes-✰]: please lmk if there are any awkward mistakes or important content warnings that I missed!

#nova writes #toland dislyte #dislyte toland #toland dislyte x reader #dislyte toland x reader #toland x reader #gender neutral reader #dislyte x reader #dislyte

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addcests · 10 months ago

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a family is you, and you, and :: ch5 - ao3 mirror

pairing the addcest is there if you believe

words 5475

rating [T]

summary "Hey, Dominator, where's Psyker?" It's an innocent question, at first. And then it rings, rings, rings through Dominator's mind constantly, like an incessant nagging that he doesn't want to quite acknowledge presently. Not yet. So he doesn't. "He's out." It's not a complete lie, anyway. --- If you'd ask each Add what family meant, they'd have similarly different answers. A contradiction in and of itself—a testament to the very conception of their existence. Yet, there lies one thing wholly similar; a conviction all three share: they'd fight for their family. And now they must.

note woo boy that sure was a ride when i said things wouldn't happen ig i kind of lied sorry! LMAO but! at least i made up for this chapter with this whoping 5.4k words! anyway, the first scene was really fun to write... ! <3 i love giving dom hope also can't wait to snatch it from him! <333 and trouble in paradise... if it's not one thing with these adds it's another smh :/ but! all will be well! eventually, maybe, hopefully! thanks for reading <3

There were two truths when it came to the Diabolic Esper.

One: he does not sleep.

When the power of time control dangles along your fingertips, one sort of abates the need for sleep.

“Slipped my mind,” he'll too cheerfully, too dismissively answer Psyker or Mastermind as he slithers past their disapproving and worried looks.

It is pretty commonplace, after all, around the Add household to forego sleep in pursuit of one’s goals.

And yet, like the very laws of time he defies, Esper, who does not sleep, slept. Very deeply, at that.

—the other, second truth: Esper did not dream, because while others were blessed with lulling dreams, he was cursed to have nightmares in return. Perhaps it is the nature of his psyche, twisted and tormented as it was, or it is a side effect of something as unnatural as time traveling all these years, or maybe it is the few pockets of sleep he manages to nestle in once every blue moon. Maybe it is all of it or maybe it is none of those reasons at all.

And yet, regardless of the reasons, if any, Esper, who does not dream, dreams.

Reasons aside, all Esper knows is that once he opens his eyes he can see that he is currently standing in a vast field, surrounded by an explosion of breathtaking anemones.

Mother's flower.

It was such a gorgeous landscape. No matter which direction he chooses, there is nothing but a stretch of anemones, pure and white.

A beautiful innocence flooded with white and as gorgeous as far as the eye could see.

Esper bends at the knee, reaching to pluck a handful into his grasp. He holds them tenderly, with loving care and is immediately overwhelmed by its scent: a deep earth-like woodsy smell, tinged with a hint of something citrus-like. Inhaling and closing his eyes, even in this dream, he could never forget the times he would enter Mother's study and catch a hint of these flowers lingering on her clothes, or on her hair, or on her hands. From holding the flowers alone, the scent became stronger, almost overpowering all his other senses.

For Esper, it is a comfort and core memory, he feels as if he could just close his eyes…

Indeed, his eyes grow heavy, and soon, he drops to both knees, barely keeping upright. And yet, despite this sudden sap of strength, the flowers were a calming lull…

“Mother…”

A shard reflecting Grace drifts into view.

He begins to sag further still, placing a palm on the ground to keep himself upright, trembling and again struggling to breathe…

He didn't have time to waste here… ! He couldn't afford to sleep. He had to go. He had to go now. He had to get to mother now, right now! Nownownow—

More white shards appeared, all with Grace.

His heartbeat accelerates as his thoughts begin to race and race as he continues to struggle, and continues to panic, the shards of Grace swirling erratically around him now. No longer could he focus on the flowers that seemed like an anchor at first, keeping him afloat. What he once thought was his anchor grounding him, it was now dragging him down and he was sinking, sinking…

—and then it all happened so fast.

Everything that occurs next is within mere seconds, yet for one who bends time, all of it at once felt so ironically slow. Amidst the storm of his racing thoughts, a sharp cut of white noise sliced a line through his whirlwind of dread. There was nothing left but an eerie, silent emptiness in his mind for but a nano second, leaving him with no choice but to suddenly hyperfocus on his other senses and surroundings and arrive at the conclusion that he was not alone.

He was being watched all this time.

Though he demands his wretched body to move, he falls limp in place instead; and then, he could hear everything. He was quite keenly aware of the familiar sound of cracking, as if something was bending and breaking.

One final, ear shattering crack—then, from a near distance there was an explosive color of pulsing purple and pink hues, followed by the very space he was occupying fissuring until it cracked, cracked and shattered into fragments, exploding once more. The impact and blasts were so forceful, knocking him back so hard that his ears began to ring, rendering him all but dizzy.

When the ringing finally stops, Esper groans and tries to sit up and finds that he can't; a weight is crushing his chest, preventing him from doing so. Disoriented, he can do little other than fight to force his eyes open, realizing that he's also paralyzed beyond just being held down.

Due to this realization—the comforting aura into terrifying dread—he also confirms he was attacked with—

“—Paranoia,” drawls a mellow, flat voice, “and so, you're still alive…”

As someone well traveled, he's not surprised at all when he finally gathers his bearings and he is met with a face that’s his. But what does surprise him is that it's not a face of his that he recognizes. In that sense, he knows Psyker and Mastermind's face. There are also Psych and Arc's faces, when they were younger. But something already eliminated the fact that it could be either of them: the one, lone black sclera. And this face was much younger, nestled in a distinct cat hoodie, deep and dark purples and not the lightly tinged-purple white he was familiar with during his times as Time Tracer. But something even beyond his attire was quite… different; off, even. “You're not Time, and yet… what an interesting form.”

“And you're here,” he replies back, uninterested.

Esper hacks and coughs, cursing the lingering effects of Paranoia that leave him immobilized still and the foot pressing firm on his chest, pinning him in place. Unable to do much of anything else, a certain gleam catches his eye, from a shard orbiting near this person with his face. The shard is a pearlescent color, pure and white, much like the anemones he's currently crushing. It turns and catches the light, reflecting Grace's face once again.

So, this was this… Add's doing, he'd lulled and trapped him here, but how?

Finally, the offender lifts his foot from Esper’s chest and turns his back carelessly on him, arms outstretched, “This form, this is what you—what we always wanted, wasn't it, Esper?” He tilts his head back, glancing over his shoulder, “For Mother?”

A bright purple begins to shine underneath the other male.

These are their last words as Esper opens up and extends the space directly underneath them, binding him in place as he teleports a safe distance away immediately at the end of Void Field's cast, clenching at and massaging his chest. He takes the moment to steady and stabilize his breath once more.

This Add does little more than flinch under the restraints of the energy of space and then he laughs.

And laughs again, a horrid and annoyingly subdued little thing that only pisses him off.

“So meaningless…”

Esper stands defensive, watching as this shorter Add approaches him, step by unenthused step, long coat tails fluttering behind him in the void. His hand aches, closes and opens, then closes into a fist again as he feels his dynamo nearby. “Speak your purpose or else.”

“I am, yet you won't listen.”

Before Esper could probe himself anymore, he reacts with just enough speed to catch one of those ever-floating shards that his other self just flung at full force towards his face. The shard reflects Mother's serene expression, hand tucking back a strand of hair, frozen in time. Recognizing this, his hold on the shard turns tight-fisted, to the point that he is able to feel the glass dig past the protective barrier of his gloves. Esper is sure if he holds it any tighter, he’d draw blood. He probably does. His grip still tight, he throws a glare to his other self, silently demanding an explanation.

“That's what you wanted, right? Mother?” Again, he prods with the same question, voice indistinct, bearing no emotion that Esper could pick at. “But, ah, that's right, you can't have her.” Making himself comfortable, he kicks back on one of his Dynamo (one that Esper does not recognize), sitting with one leg dangling in the air. Leisurely, he gestures to one of his other fragmented shards as if they had all the time in the world. Droopy eyes regard him for a moment, like he's studying him, trying to figure which piece in the puzzle he'll unlock next, and then he resumes. “Then, maybe this one instead. You'll surely want this more?”

Esper, however, is too distracted to even begin to break down that hard calculating gaze. Again, another shard is sent his way, though it's nudged less aggressively towards Esper this time. When he catches this one, his eyes widen at the reflection as the name tumbles from his lips without his permission, “D-Dominator… ?” As if guilty, for some inexplicable reason, Esper's shocked gaze turns towards this other Add.

In this entire encounter thus far, not a single emotion ran across his other self's face. Until now. It was barely there, but Esper parses the flicker of this Add's lips tugged ever so slightly down as contempt.

“What do you want with Dominator—”

“I'm asking the questions here.” Barely there electricity sparked in agitation from his left eye as he stands once more, striding leisurely towards Esper. He paces until he's directly in front of Esper, about a foot apart and then looks down at Esper’s hands, holding both shards. “Your hands are full.”

Holding both Mother's and Dominator's shards indeed, he looks down to them too and then to him once more. “And?”

Again, this other him laughs. “‘And!’ he says…..” Though lacking its usual manic energy, that was definitely his laugh. This time, he laughs so hard, he throws his head back, hand covering his face, shoulders trembling and shaking his small form. “Of course, I was always so greedy.” Using both hands, he gestures for one shard nearby. This one is bigger. Slowly, it floats into both his hands and he spins it around to face Esper, not quite handing it over to him just yet.

This shard, unlike the other still image ones, is animated: it shows Mastermind brushing Esper's hair tenderly as he sleeps and Psyker, right by his side, hand on Mastermind's shoulder as he watches him sleep also.

As if subconsciously, he immediately moves towards it, expecting to take hold of it like he did the others. But he hardly even makes the complete gesture to reach out for it until it's snatched abruptly and precisely from his space.

“I said your hands are full.”

Eyes wide now, Esper still makes to grab for them both when this other Add floats back and away just as easily on his dynamo. No longer willing to entertain whatever his double wants, he then demands, “Give them to me.”

“Choose.”

Panic pricks at his skin, desperate to have them both back. He yells, “They're mine—!”

Ah, and that was clearly the wrong thing to say—this Add—this person wearing his face, chuckles low and short, clipped. And then he charges faster than he could blink. Panic sets in again for another reason: imminent danger. Esper realizes he has so little time to react. He makes to move, to dodge, to teleport back, but within the supposed safety of the time-rip of his portal, this Add is easily here as well. For the split second Esper has time to think, this answers all of his questions about this encounter. This other Add then quite literally rips him from his own portal, sending him flying, anemones disturbed from their roots, kicking up in the air around him. The two shards, Mother and Dominator, fall from his hands in this scuffle too. When he blinks open his eyes again, he finds himself straining them close and struggling to keep lidded eyes open as he feels a familiar pair of hands wrapped at his throat, pressing hard.

“If they're yours,” an equally familiar voice rasps, much unlike the voice from the smaller one; this one is full of energy, life, determination—crazed and obsessed, snarls back at him, “then give me back what's mine.”

This Add stops pressing long enough for Esper to gasp in a greedy breath of air and out of surprise at the sight before him, “You—from that dream… ! You’re not that child anymore. Who—”

Long, almost tendril like flowing hair (that he had mistaken for Mastermind at that time in the dream), two pair of matching dark depths staring down at him, a form that seems to struggle to manifest yet stubbornly decides to anyway—paradoxical in nature—a shape that towers over him (obviously no longer that child form), especially at this height advantage, and those shards that float by his side have turned from their sincere soft, innocent white but to his usual, signature demented, dark deep pinks.

“You may address me as Paradox,” he grins down at Esper, deranged, flashing him a smile full of threatening teeth. “And you, Esper,” he coos, and then taunts harshly, barking his words at him, “what did you expect?!” A deranged little laugh, colored with disbelief and admonishment escapes past his lips. “Did you expect me to coddle you? After all this time, you still can't pick right and yet,” he narrows his eyes as his grip around Esper’s throat tightens with each following enunciation, “you. Demand. So. Much!” A pair of black sclera narrows dangerously now, all prior amusement fleeing from his face as he glares deep and heavy and full of scorn. He’s so close, his breath tickles his younger self. It’s but a breath’s whisper, yet it is so loud with its dangerous undertone made plain, “I don't coddle failures. So, choose.”

Esper, without much choice, chooses to choke and gasp around the fingers pressing insistently to his throat.

“You want Mother, yet here you are in the future, fiddling where you don't belong. And what of your present? What of them? Are they not precious to you? Will you leave them behind?”

It was one thing to be lectured by someone wearing his face, it was another to have to die pathetically at his hands like this. With that in mind and his remaining energy, he finally manages to summon a couple of Dynamo to fly to his side and rush at Paradox, who was too absorbed in his ministrations and thus easily disengaged and knocked away. His other Dynamo flies to his side protectively; Esper, on one knee, wisely uses this time to regain air into his greedy lungs once more.

With Paradox thrown aside somewhere, and Esper no longer feeling on the verge of passing out from a lack of air, the shard with Mastermind and Psyker that Paradox dropped catches his gaze once more. He can barely make out their conversation, but it was faint. It sounds like they were talking about dinner. Well, Psyker was. But Mastermind was bargaining with him about dessert instead. That sounded so like them. In spite of being literally attacked by, whom he now has enough data and obvious logic to assume is, his future self and almost choked to death, Esper finds comfort in these two's consistent yet easy presence.

The shard that held their mother was inanimate till this point. That is, until he hears a voice coming from it.

”Edward, the present is precious for being the present.”

Still, he turns his gaze towards her, brows knitted with the pain of knowing that she was all alone in the end. He just wanted to save her—even if he knew better… ! He just wanted his mother…

The grief stabs at his heart and he clutches at his chest, as if to ease the pain of it all.

Likewise, the same from Dominator's shard. He, too, hears his voice.

”You know, you shouldn't even be here.”

He holds his hand out for Dominator, deep down wishing Dominator hadn't said that to him back then so many visits ago. He didn't want to leave Dominator alone either! He was in pain and lonely, and Esper was drawn to him… how could he leave him alone?

The grief of his actions and inactions pile on, as well as his failures, and he falls to his knees of his own volition, hands to his ears as if that would make everything just.

Stop.

”Do ya think… Esper would mind a chocolate and vanilla cake this time ‘round?”

”He'll love anything if it's made by you, Psyk.”

Paradox, retaining his true form, stands towering over Esper’s slouched stance, glaring as Esper grips at his hair in a crazed frustration. “This should not be hard. No matter what you want, there's only one answer. Anything else is meaningless! That is the most basic of basics. That is the goal.” He then says with as much disgust as he can muster, “That was our goal. Now, choose or I will make you choose.”

Time ticks slowly in this unnatural black backdrop, filled with the most beautiful flowers.

It goes unnoticed by Esper, burdened with his choices.

Paradox, seeing this, knows his next decision before Esper can even think.

As promised and much like before, Esper is not left with a choice really, as he finds the shard containing Mastermind and Psyker at his throat by Paradox's hands. Later, he will remember how he felt the shard dig at his throat, no mark left but a ghost of pain irritating the scar at his neck.

A whirl of anemone encircles them in a violent gust, accompanied by the same woodsy scent drowning out all and overwhelming all his senses as his eyelids, heavy, fall shut for the last time.

He hears one last warning:

“You should have never left them.”

And then—nothing.

===== → loading … loading … loading … :\\ destination … standby … … … =====

“... wha, Esper!? Quick, Mastermind… he’s awake!”

“... it’s been three days! How is he—is he… ?”

===== → loading … loading … loading … :// destination … unknown … … … =====

“I wonder,” Dominator murmurs to himself, toying with Esper's miniature dynamo replica as it sits safely on its designated desk, “how he fares…”

If Dominator is being honest with himself (and these days that is not often), he finds that his mind drifts to Esper lately. After all, it's been a month, maybe two? Who was he to keep track of time? Though he always knew he was prone to night terrors and the such, that expression Esper left with that day struck Dominator hard and would remain seared in his memories for days if not weeks.

A ding draws him from his fleeting fanciful thoughts and he blinks slowly. “Ah, Dynamo? Apocalypse?” He lifts his chin from his palm and turns his gaze upon the floating windows nearby, “Are we stable this time?”

A month or two, give or take, led to much success on his end, a lot of progress, and then frustration. His main goal was to see how far he could influence the reach of some of his Installs, particularly with the help of Force Field. There were promising results and so far, he's been able to maintain a much larger radius but at the cost of efficiency. As of the last experiment, the radius envelops the entire Add household, which has been his biggest success yet.

He walks over to the biggest display, some sort of feed showing the fluctuations of the Force Field. Casting such a wide reach strained Dominator but at least so far, from what Apocalypse was relaying, the potential was there to move into the next phase—

A sudden system warning blares through the lab, the shrill sound of it causing Dominator to flinch at the unsightly sound, a hand covering his ear. It then hits him what that warning was for exactly. Immediately, he whirls around to his Dynamo, then back to the screens as he asks, “Wait, the field!? It's being attacked?”

No sooner than the words left his mouth, Dominator feels a far off rumble in the far left wing of the household. There was some seconds before there was nothing, and then an even louder bang. “Dynamo, what is that!?” Growling to himself, his fingers flies quickly along his keyboard to navigate through the various cameras they had set up, but even soon that was rendered useless—this thing, whatever it was, blew out all of them. Was it physical? Or some sort of arcane magic? “Apocalypse, quickly, I—”

The loudest, earth shattering boom Dominator had heard yet, rattled the entire household, strong enough to knock him to his feet, as well as other items in his lab. Signature purple waves of energy and electricity, seemingly from his projects, or his own Dynamo gone haywire, slither and explode in the room. Hissing rather from the shock of it all than any pain, Dominator, finally losing his composure, frantically yells out, “Can I please get confirmation on what is happening? It has been far too long without an answer for this to be acceptable!” He steadies himself to his feet, gripping the edge of a countertop for support. Again, he tries to summon Apocalypse, who he had lost in the frenzy of this commotion. And he finally appears but not as he expects, “Holographic form? Tsk, any injuries? Scan and report—” Are you alright? goes unsaid. “Where is your location?” Already, on pop-up windows, he can see Apocalypse’s vitals. Health was fine. Alongside that, Apocalypse had used some energy in preparation to retaliate the attack but there was no visible damage or signs of a scuffle.

Apocalypse does not get to report anything more to Dominator, the connection drops, and instead the warning from earlier is flashing red now insistently on multiple windows, demanding his attention, overriding other screens. Was this a systematic or network attack? But, no… it was very much physical. Scans already showed signs this was not some random earthquake or natural occurring event, but a direct and deliberate attempt on the house—or perhaps, it was the Force Field?

Finally, he expands the warning screens and reads. The warnings were not just for the attack itself. In disbelief he mutters, “Impossible, it's completely… destroyed?”

Finally, some beats later, his cube partner flies into sight, fretting with meows over his creator.

Dominator pays him little heed. He is fine after all! Dusting himself off, he hops right back into the fray of chaos and begins scrolling between windows, though soon he could no longer avoid his meows any longer when it becomes insistent and even louder. “Oh, for the love of Elrios, what is it now, Apocalypse? If you need to be looked at, I shall put you in queue and—” He stops, whatever words he had dies on his lips as he looks over his shoulder to see Apocalypse circling frantically over both Psyker and Esper's mini dynamo displays on the orderly countertop some paces away. Despite nearly everything else toppling over, the replicas remained unharmed. In fact, they looked even better than before from a mere cursory glance. “Is that…” He stops, frozen, as if afraid to approach when he is hit again with the realization that, “—P-Psyker…?” He falls unceremoniously to his knees, eyes wide in disbelief as he watches Psyker's replica whirl to life, static energy and electricity rippling in small waves along its device, no longer dim.

Psyker's replica was online once more.

“B-But… how can that be?” His voice, rough from commandeering and shout-outs, now soft, barely a whisper, tinged with fear, sadness, longing… but most of all, something he was afraid to feel: hope.

Apocalypse requests the aid of two of Dominator's Dynamo to bring both replicas to the fallen Dominator.

Gently, he accepts them, staring at them as if a bare touch alone would shatter whatever miracle was happening here. He didn't need to do anything beyond observing them to tell they were online, but with both in each hand, he could feel the familiar signature of their energies, pulsing and radiating, and full of life… ! Looking at Esper's replica mini, his was much more vibrant than ever before too. Even more so than when Dominator scanned Esper and fed the replica his energy from the repairs a couple months ago. Could Esper finally be back… with Psyker?

As if sensing the possibilities whirling through his mind, Dynamo already ran calculations: “No portals via the Diabolic Esper have been recorded within the last… … …fifty three days, twelve hours, three minutes, and fourteen seconds and counting.” But what of the obvious energy blasts? The very ones that rattled the house to its core and dispersed here in the lab? Surely those were theirs… ! “Percentage of Diabolic Esper's energies: 64.21%. Percentage of Lunatic Psyker's energies: 75.89%.”

“How can that be? Not even 90%? It is either Esper and Psyker or it is not!”

“... recalculating. … … Pending results … complete: entities are not Diabolic Esper and Lunatic Psyker.”

Frustrated, he fists a handful of hair, growling to himself. This made zero sense at all. Did his lousy automations and network receive interference of some kind from those psionic blasts? His eyes screw shut, heart racing as he forces himself to calm down, to focus, to relax. To prioritize.

Exhale, start again.

Focused, he opens his eyes, a light that was not there in ages, now brightening his gaze. “One thing at a time, Dynamo.” Magenta hues fall to the warning screens popping up as the system continues to crash, unable to read or feed data about his Force Field that is seemingly in disarray. “Let's… repair this, no, we shall fix it. Sturdy and stabilize it, we will need to increase energy and output now if we are having random attacks. No more risks from this. Then, we shall take stock of everything else, check for faulty devices and other miscellaneous damages, and then…”

He opens his eyes again, a wary stare falling towards the replicas in his hand, whirling with energy and vibrancy unlike anything he's ever seen before.

“I suppose my mysterious benefactors that powered their replicas can wait, for now.”

===== → loading … loading … loading … :\\ destination … standby … … … =====

“Amazing, maybe you two should pair up more often on our excursions and dungeon dives after all. Who knows what you two could accomplish if you'd work together more.”

The two being one, Lunatic Psyker, vying for the chance of sport, having been restless for ages now because of two, Diabolic Esper finally rising from his coma like slumber, recovered as if nothing had happened.

Together the pair were testing out some custom made simulation-obstacle course that Mastermind blue printed and Psyker built. (Esper was working on some schematic of interactive rotations, or some such mechanism, but well… sleeping and traveling from home does put a quick halt to that progress.) Given that Mastermind refused to let Esper out of sight—i.e, house arrest, and that they all agreed to testing and observing Esper for the coming days—this was the next best choice for everyone.

“Hah, just admit you rather see the results than make the results yourself.”

“I've two perfect consenting subjects to do so for me, it is simply more efficient this way,” Mastermind shoots Psyker’s obvious bait down, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. He does have the nerve to smirk at him though, tacking on an afterthought, “Besides, admit you're enjoying yourself.”

“Well,” Psyker says in between sips of water, “Won't deny that. ‘s pretty exhilarating to have Esper’s portals boost my super sonic speed like that.”

“Of course,” Mastermind hums easily, attention split as he tinkers with a couple of nasod chips.

Psyker ungracefully plops himself beside the scientist, jostling him and his makeshift workstation. “And what's all this?”

“Psyker, stop moving! And where is Esper? So help me El if you tell me you lost him—”

Right on cue, a portal opens up, and at the same time, one of the nasod chips Mastermind holds lights up as soon as Esper hops from the portal, Mastermind makes to dodge him.

Well, he tries, anyway.

Esper lands perfectly in between the two, squishing his way demandingly into Mastermind's space as well. “Yes, what has you so occupied that you're ignoring vitals and our battle results?”

For a moment, Mastermind flushes brightly, ears red now that a pair of eyes are looking to him eagerly for answers. Nervously, he glances away, laughing mostly to himself to ease his nerves from the sudden attention. “Well, this? It's really nothing—”

“Doesn't look like nothing to us.” Esper tries to reach out for one of the nasod chips in Mastermind's hands.

“Yea, it lit up and everythin’ when Esper came over. Hmm, is it tracking his movements or somethin’?” Psyker inquires, grabbing Esper's mischievous, wandering hand, ignoring his whines and pouts.

Again, Mastermind does all he can to avoid their piercing gazes. Well, he supposes, if they don't find out now, they'll find out some other way, wouldn't they? Instead of explaining, Mastermind reaches across the inquisitive portal hopper, taking Psyker's hand into his hand.

Now it's Psyker's turn to blush. “W-Wha’! Hey!?”

“Oh, be quiet!” Mastermind barks back, fighting his own blush because of Psyker's blush. Calming down, he nods to Psyker's hand, “Make a fist, use some energy. You know, like I see you do sometimes without realizing it.”

“Did ya hafta grab my hand just for that… !?”

Esper snickers.

Mastermind is so red, but mercifully, the other two say nothing else.

As instructed, Psyker looks down at his hand, makes a fist, opens it, makes a fist, until small crackles of electricity and energy circuit around his nasod glove.

As soon as it does, the other nasod chip reacts to Psyker.

Before either can say anything, Mastermind digs into his jacket's pocket, and pulls out two perfectly replicated miniatures of Esper and Psyker's dynamo. “Each chip, linked specifically to you both, are suppose to go into this… and, well…” He trails off, because he doesn't want to really admit what this is for.

Fortunately, they don't know why but unfortunately, they rather prod at its existence.

“Mastermind, this is such an elementary little toy.” Esper flops his weight on Mastermind's shoulder, teasing, “Is this really more important than me?”

“What—No, o-of course not! It just—”

“Seriously, I feel like you made blueprints for somethin’ like this ages ago, when we were still just tracers,” Psyker adds on, his free hand gesturing at a short height as if indicating when they were that tall back then. “Why the interest in such a thing now?”

Even though he is clearly teasing, Mastermind inwardly flinches at Psyker's insight. He scoffs mentally, annoyed that the brawler was always analyzing him, always seeing right through him. Fortunately, or unfortunately, for him, Esper interrupts his inner thoughts by yanking him up from his seat, his project falling and Mastermind wailing to Psyker to catch it.

Thankfully, he does so.

“Well, if it's not more important than me,” Esper purrs, nuzzling at Mastermind who is desperately trying to avoid this suddenly affectionate time-manipulating cat’s snuggles, “come on, let's take a turn together.” Offhandedly, Esper comments loudly that he now understands why Psyker is always nagging Mastermind about staying in his lab and ignoring everything for his research. “No buts!”

Fondly, Psyker watches the two go off. Or, well, he watches Esper drag a whining Mastermind, pleading for the brawler to save him from Esper. He chuckles as they disappear off towards the start of the obstacle course.

Then, his attention drops down to Mastermind's little project, blinking at the nasod chip linked to Esper lighting up. They must have started the obstacle course, then. He watches it for a few more seconds, and shakes his head. Idly, he wonders if Esper had did that on purpose, tugging Mastermind away like that. That devious schemer is always up to something. Though as his eyes fall to the nasod chips blinking, he supposes that Mastermind is always up to something nowadays too.

He laments that Mastermind obviously can't trust him enough to open up.

When did their connection and trust become so terse and fragile?

Psyker, jumping from his thoughts, heaves a big sigh, and then puts on a smile, racing over to the section that they're at. “Oi! You two hurry up already!” He pumps his fist in the air. “Let's do a run with all of us together! It'll be fun! One who hits the least targets is on cleaning duty!”

#my fanfiction #diabolic esper #mastermind (elsword)#lunatic psyker (elsword)#dominator (elsword)#and someone else i can't tag bc of spoilers :'D #anyway i initially struggled really hard with the first scene but then i blacked out and came to something p darn okay if i say so myself #i hope u all like it...... (trembling)

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