#actually they just tossed out his severed head but i wouldn't go *quite* that far | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jeongjaebae · 4 years ago

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Maybe we'll just keep fallin'

⇢ Juyeon x reader, 3.4k, exes to lovers ⇢ A reunion at an amusement park reminds you of what it feels like to fall.

You've never hated Eric more than at this moment.

He gives you a big smile right when he sees you walking towards where the group is gathered near the entrance of the amusement park, and then runs towards you with his arms stretched out to squeeze the breath out of you.

"Hey," you greet with an attempt at a smile, hoping he doesn't notice the way your mood suddenly falls. "Long time no see."

"Y/N, I've missed you so much!" Eric's hug is even tighter than the last time you've seen him—a clear indication that he's been working out in college because those arms are even stronger as they lift you in a spin that takes you by surprise.

This amusement park trip would've been a perfect excursion on this perfect sunny day; a reunion of friends after a few years and a number of kilometers apart. And you had indeed been looking forward to it up until this point, having excitedly packed your bag and planned your outfit the night before.

However, no one had told you that he would be here too.

You knew it wasn't Eric's fault for inviting the both of you though, for he probably doesn't know about what happened. And when you join the rest of the group, it becomes quite obvious that none of them knew about it. It's as if they were all frozen in time, in the same spot as they stood all those years ago, back when your memories of this very amusement park had been overflowing with feelings for him.

It's not Eric's fault because Juyeon's Instagram remains untouched. Still filled with old pictures of the two of you long after what happened.

"It's nice to see all of you again," you say as you reach the others, looking at each of them one at a time. You wanted nothing more than to avoid looking at Juyeon the entire day, but it's something you couldn't get out of if you wanted to keep pretending everything was fine.

Juyeon was the first one you'd spotted from afar, having immediately recognized his all too familiar figure. But up close, he seems to have changed quite a bit. Like Eric, he definitely bulked up and is no longer super skinny, and then there's the way his skin glows and how his hair falls into place perfectly even with the wind blowing against it. And who wears such nice clothes to an amusement park? He's so stupidly perfect and unaffected that it pisses you off. The only thing that gives you a bit of satisfaction is seeing how he immediately stiffens after seeing you.

Maybe it would be easy to remember that he's no longer the boy you once loved when he seems so different now.

"Alright, let's go!" Eric shouts.

You knew that it was going to be a very long day.

***

"What's wrong? You don't like rollercoasters anymore?" Jacob asks. He raises an eyebrow at the way you eyed the ride all too warily.

You'd joined the line with the rest of them but there's a sense of dread in your steps that hadn't been there before. And while it wouldn't be your first time on this ride, the huge drop no longer seemed as appealing as it once did. Maybe you've developed a bit of a fear.

"I just hate the feeling of falling now," you say, then shrug when Hyunjae shoots you a strange look. "People change, I guess."

When your eyes flicker over to Juyeon intentionally, he's already staring at you.

Sometime while in line, the others all pair up with their seatmates, leaving you and Juyeon at the back together. Maybe it would've reminded you of the time they intentionally left you together when trying to set you up, but things are different now. It annoys you now.

You sigh. "Let's just get this over with."

As you climb into your seat with Juyeon following right behind you, suddenly you get an idea.

"Here, let me get this for you." You shoot him a smile before grabbing the safety bar and pushing it down on him as far as it would go, locking him into the seat with a click. It's much tighter than it needs to be and probably digs into his stomach if his grimace is any indication. Perfect. "Enjoy the ride!"

Then you walk out the other way. Leaving him without a seatmate on the rollercoaster.

A look of utter disbelief spreads on his face and you simply laugh before heading to the exit, where you would wait for his ugly photos to come out. Not that he could ever be ugly, but one could still hope.

As the rollercoaster takes off and he's still glancing at you looking betrayed, there's no time for guilt. Because he was going to go on the ride anyways, you tell yourself. What difference did it make whether it was with or without you? And besides, strapping him in tighter could've been to ensure his safety; it's almost funny how the things we do for the people we love actually end up hurting them the most.

Several minutes later, Juyeon comes back with his hair dishevelled and a frown on his face. Bothered, but still silent. You count that as a win because unfortunately for you, his photos turn out looking just fine. In fact, they turn out all too similar to the set you once carried around in your phone case—the same ride and the same expression, only the seat beside him hadn't been empty in that one.

He doesn't say anything as you take out your phone to quickly snap a photo of the preview on the screen, calling him ugly the entire time anyways.

The loud noises and flashy lights in every direction try to grab your attention as heading to the next ride has you walking through all the carnival games in the park. Prizes are dangling at every stall, the smell of colourful snacks and the cheerful voices of children filling the air. For a while, you don't mind it when Juyeon falls into step beside you at the back of the group.

Until his hand accidentally brushes yours. And his touch sends you reeling.

"You okay?" his eyes flash with concern. He hangs back to wait for you while the rest of the group continues on without notice.

"Yup," you slap on the most dazzling fake smile you could muster. "Never been better."

It was a close call; for a second you thought your resentment towards him faltered like your feet did.

They've stopped at a beanbag toss game where Hyunjae points out how much Sunwoo looks like the raccoon plushie hanging in the section of prizes, and Changmin is taking bets that Sangyeon's bad luck would make him lose every game he plays. Juyeon bets against it. You bet for it.

The man running the game gestures dramatically, beckoning your group over. "See something you like? Step right up! Only three tickets to win the biggest prizes in the entire park."

Normally you would've walked away. Everyone knows that carnival games are rigged so there was no point in wasting your tickets, but once again, an idea occurs. Three tickets to get a chance to hit your ex? Hell yeah, you were definitely in.

The man gives you a wink as you go to hand in your three measly tickets, with Juyeon following closely behind. You had a feeling he would participate too, though you don't know why.

As you settle into your spot at the counter, you realize that the booth is quite empty. None of your friends are there anymore, somehow having disappeared so suddenly without a trace—leaving you alone with Juyeon once again.

"Why are they always putting us together," you mutter under your breath.

"Because they don't know about—"

"Yeah, no shit." You roll your eyes at him. Why was he answering a rhetorical question anyways? "Whatever. Let's get on with the game already."

When the game starts, Juyeon is oblivious beside you as he concentrates on the distance to the target. Competitive as usual, you assume, though this time it wouldn't be for the purpose of winning you a giant plushie like he did before. And the old you might've tried to get a good score to impress him, but the new you isn't like that anymore.

You almost feel bad when you take a step away from the booth and gaze at the back of his head. There's a sense of hesitation because does he really deserve this? Getting your revenge when he's not even looking is a little too harsh isn't it? But you quickly wipe those thoughts away. One beanbag to the head isn't going to make up for all the times he promised not to break your heart yet ended up doing it anyways.

Juyeon whips around and gives you a hard stare after your beanbag successfully strikes the back of his head and then lands at his feet. Bullseye!

"Oh, did I hit you?" Your voice drips with a sarcastic sweetness. "Oops, sorry."

The rest of your beanbags are tossed messily without really caring where they land now that you've accomplished your goal, and his shots seem too distracted after getting hit.

He remains impassive as the two of you find your way back to the rest of your friends who appear just as suddenly as they disappeared.

"That was a nice shot." Hyunjae gives you a high-five. The way Juyeon glances at him sharply almost makes you burst out laughing. "Too bad you didn't win a prize."

You don't tell him that it might be even better than winning a prize. "You saw that? But where did you guys go?"

"Oh um, Eric kind of had an emergency. In the bathroom." Hyunjae gives you a wry smile then takes off before you could ask more.

You stick with Sunwoo for the rest of the day, clinging onto him so closely that he has no opportunity to leave you with your ex again. He occasionally gives you questioning glances and you feel slightly embarrassed; it wasn't your intention to make things awkward, but surely your friends should've all sensed something strange by now? Surely they couldn't still see you and Juyeon as a couple?

The last jab you took at him was on the spinning teacup ride, a final ride at the end of the day just as the sun was setting. The rest of your group had split themselves equally into two teacups, leaving no room for the two of you though you could see through the way they intentionally sprawled themselves across the seats to fill up the space.

So once again, you were left with Juyeon. But this time, you don't complain because you had another plan up your sleeve.

As soon as the ride starts along with the horrible carnival music, you're grabbing the wheel at the center and turning it as fast as you could. It makes the teacup spin and spin, round and round until the rest of the world is a blur of lights and colours around you. Somehow it makes the teacup feel all too small. It's as if you and Juyeon were the only ones existing as everything else blends together.

"Y/N, stop," he shouts at some point, but you pay no attention as your hands continue to move the steering wheel mechanically. "You're going to get dizzy!"

And he's right. Because eventually the teacup slows to a full stop, but the world continues to spin and prevents you from getting to your feet and walking out.

"Are you okay?" Juyeon reaches for you then pulls back at the last moment. "Why did you spin it so much?"

Just seeing the way he looks perfectly fine standing there makes you feel the contents of your stomach churn. His perfect face and his perfect hair and his perfectly indifferent expression. Had your plan backfired? At this point, could anything you do even affect him the way his presence affected you so much?

You attempt at getting to your feet again and it just barely works this time. "Ugh, why aren't—you dizzy—"

"You spun it that hard just to get me dizzy?" Juyeon's voice gives no hints to what he's thinking.

"Shut up."

His touch stings when he ends up wrapping an arm around you, holding you up as you walk out of the ride together. Usually you would've thrown him off and pushed him away, but in your state of trying not to die, you give in and let him guide you to a pavilion with some picnic benches.

"Sit here."

It's quieter here when you're out of the crowd. A little easier to breathe. You focus on the way the air tastes, cooler now that the sun has gone down but still lingering with the sweetness of cotton candy from a nearby vendor. The world slows down and finally stills under your feet, and the waves of nausea quickly recede.

"Why are you doing all this?" Juyeon blurts, and you can finally see something underneath those unreadable eyes of his. The whole day he's put up with your antics without ever saying anything, but now you could see the blaze the lies just beneath the surface.

It feels like a taste of victory.

"Doing what?"

"You know what."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say carefully.

He gives an exasperated sigh, pacing around in front of the bench you sat at. "Do you hate me that much?"

"I—"

Yes, you wanted to say. Because hating him has never left your mind for the past few years. Because you did want to resent him. To hurt him the way that he hurt you when he decided to cut off all ties with you so your long-distance relationship wouldn't hold you back during college. Maybe he'd thought it was the right thing to do but it was such a stupid reason and he was so stupid and—it all hurt. So yes, maybe you'd imagined getting your revenge someday when you met him again.

But doing all those things today didn't make you feel any better and seeing him like this is different from what you'd imagined.

Juyeon's steps finally stop, and he sits down on the bench beside you. "If you do, it's okay. I get it. I would hate me too."

A silence settles in between you and the crickets in the background are almost too loud. The last of the sun's fading glow surrender to a blanket of darkness that contrasts with the warm glow of the fairy lights in the small pavilion. Being here in any other context might be romantic. It reminds you all too much of what happened the first time.

"Why?" you ultimately ask despite already knowing the answer. "Why would you hate yourself?"

"For hurting you. For even thinking that we'd be better off apart because the past four years have only made me miserable with regret," he admits. "So yes, hurt me. Let out your pain." He pounds on his chest a couple of times and then stretches his arms out, waiting. "I can take it. Just don't hurt yourself."

"Juyeon..."

The amount of times you'd wished to hear those words over the years. He did call that one time, though your roommates had taken your phone and blocked him before you could get a chance to find out what he might've said. It was something that you'd wondered about during the times you'd drank a little too much, when you'd cried over nothing, when the feeling of falling had become falling into the depths of darkness instead of falling in love like it once was.

Maybe now, you're finally getting your answer.

Your fists are weak where they collide with his chest repeatedly, one after another, as if doing so would make his heart hurt as much as yours did. And he just takes it.

But then he's wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close until you give in. Until you completely melt against him. Until there's the warmth of his body against you and the tears that slip down your cheeks land on his shirt.

"Y/N, you have no idea how much I missed you," he whispers, breath coming out against your hair where he runs his hand through like he did before. "I'm sorry. For everything."

His scent enveloping you as he holds you, the dim glow of lights above you—it all reminds you of what happened all those years ago at this very place. It had been the same park and the same friends as today, but the exhilaration was from the way he grabbed your hand to pull your closer, not from being up high in that swing ride. The dizziness you'd felt was after he kissed you for the first time, and not from some spinning teacup ride. And when had the heart fluttering feeling of falling been from falling in love, and not simply from a rollercoaster ride?

But soon you do find yourself falling again.

It's not like the first time he kissed you here, when sparks fly and the world spins and your heart pounds so hard you thought it would burst. This time when his lips are on yours and he fits against you so perfectly, it's like coming home after being too far for too long. Everything feels so familiar yet new, like rereading your favourite book and rediscovering all of your favourite passages as you relearn each line and curve of his body. He may be different from what you remembered from all those years ago, but the way his gentle hands cup your cheeks, the brushing of his knees against yours, the way you can taste the salt of tears and faint sweetness of cotton candy on his lips. Everything is still so distinctly him, something that even the space and time between you couldn't ever change.

"Lee Juyeon," comes out in a whisper against his lips as you pull back to catch your breath, "you're so stupid."

"Only when it comes to you." He breaks into a smile, the first genuine smile that you've seen all day and it seems to light up the world. "I'll make it up to you, I promise. Even if it takes me the rest of my life."

"You're making this sound like a proposal."

Juyeon gives a choked laugh. "Um, not that I would be against it, but let's take this one step at a time first, yeah?"

And when you look at him, truly look at him, this time you can see the same boy you loved for all these years. You let those eyes draw you in and finally let yourself sink into the memories that you kept pushing away and burying. There's a tinge of pink on his cheeks and they're hot under your fingertips as you reach to pull him in again and—

"It's about time," a booming voice suddenly interrupts, making the two of you spring apart. Eric claps as he walks into the pavilion joined by the rest of the group, a mischievous smile on his face.

"It only took them all day," Sunwoo rolls his eyes. "I was dying over here when Y/N started following me around. Totally deserve an Oscar for my acting today."

"Hey, that's not true! I definitely noticed you giving me weird looks."

It's not surprising that your friends had known about the breakup after all, though you just hadn't expected them to have known even before this trip. The deja vu takes you back to the last time you were here, how your first kiss as a new couple was nearly interrupted by Eric's cheers and Sunwoo's expressions of disgust.

"Before you start freaking out—no, nobody told us," Eric says. "Nobody needed to because it was so obvious. We only pretended to not know in the hopes that you'd finally put each other out of your misery."

"And while it's good that you guys did, the highlight of this trip has got to be watching Y/N bully Juyeon all day," Hyunjae bellows and nods towards Juyeon. "I don't know what you did to deserve that, but you probably deserved it."

Soon there are sounds of laughter filling the pavilion and it makes your heart feel full in a way that you hadn't felt in a long time. As if there had been a weight you didn't even know you had on you, and now it's been lifted off your shoulders and you finally feel light enough to join in with their laughter.

As fireworks fill the night sky and Juyeon intertwines his fingers with yours on the walk back, it quickly becomes clear that the falling back together was as easy as it had been the first time.

#juyeon fic #the boyz fic #juyeon fluff #juyeon x reader #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #tbz x reader #tbz x you #juyeon x you #tbz fic #juyeon scenarios #just some more writing practice~#bc what is getting back together with ur ex #unrelatable idk her #my fic #title is from fallin' (adrenaline) by why don't we!!!#why tf is this so long it was supposed to be 2.4k #anyways i love this juyeon but like #don't let ur ex crawl back into ur life yall!!!

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deerestapologies · 4 years ago

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5 times you called him by a pet name + one time he called you by a pet name

(Diluc + Zhongli x GN!Reader)

Diluc

1. "Oh, hey hon." You greet mildly.

The candles have begun burning a bit low, the long shadows making his pout even more obvious.

"I apologize, I was held up for longer than anticipated."

He produces a small bouquet from his coat, a cluster of wildflowers, and approaches like he's about to give an offering instead of a gift. He kneels by your chair, face stoic as usual, but you can see the worry and shame in his eyes.

You twirl the stems to absorb their delicate scent, and then carefully drop them in your water glass. You cup his face in your hands, and press a kiss to his brow.

"It's okay." You kiss his brow again, "I am not mad." You kiss his nose. "I am hungry though."

You laugh lightly at his rush to sit across from you. An evening eating cold roast was worth being able to spend it with him.

2. "I understand your frustration, but perhaps we had best move on." You place a hand on his crossed arms.

"Their behavior was unacceptable, especially for those who would call themselves knights."

The stubborn clench of his jaw tells you just how angry he is. The idiots were lucky to have only gotten the verbal bludgeoning earlier instead of the literal one he wanted to dish out.

"Yes, but you've already made them apologize, and they do seem repentant," the fool knights in training nod frantically, "so why not leave this mess for Kaeya, darling?"

He sighs, but loosens his posture to wrap a protective arm around you. The hell the Knights were going to catch for this was still to come, but at least no one lost any limbs. Yet.

3. Tucked into your pile of pillows, book in hand, you waited as you do most nights. Diluc had a late meeting scheduled after dinner, but he promised it was truly to do with the winery and not of the vigilante variety.

So you bide your time, until you hear his heavy boots come up the stairs.

"I'm home." He calls softly.

"Welcome back." You say just as softly.

He goes through the motions of undressing, refreshing himself, and redressing without missing a beat, but his posture seems wilted. You mark your page, and turn over the blanket for him.

"How did it go?"

He heaves a deep sigh, and crawls over to you. Pulling you close, he lays his head on your chest but doesn't say another word.

"Oh, sweetness." You embrace him, one hand holding his face and the other in his hair. "It's okay. I've got you."

4. You lengthen your steps, but the increased pace doesn't seem to deter the boy following you. He isn't dangerous per se, but his persistence is damned annoying.

"But, if you'll just listen," he jogs back up to your side, "I just need your help for a little while!"

"I am neither a Knight nor an Adventurer," you cut him off with a sharp wave of your hand, "And you have nothing I want. Now leave me be."

He sputters, "M-master Diluc said-"

As if he's had his tongue plucked out, he suddenly stops talking.

You turn around only to find Diluc himself, a stifling hand on the kid's shoulder. His face is a stoic mask as always, but his energy is thunderous.

"I agreed to help you out of deference to your mother, but you," You see the boy wince as the hand tightens, "failed to listen to a word I said. Harassing my staff and my partner has only earned you banishment from all of my properties. Now go, before I report you to the Knights as well."

You both stand stock still as the boy sprints from the winery back to Mondstadt proper.

"Your going to report him anyways, right?" You mumble, after he is just a speck on the horizon.

"Of course," He finally relaxes his stance to look at you, "Though I doubt Jean will be happy about it."

Your chuckle, already imagining her face when the letter reaches her desk. Heaving a sigh, just grateful for the problem to have moved on, you grab Diluc's hand.

"Thank you," You pull him into a tight hug, "for protecting me as always, angel."

5. You gently rap on the door frame to his office. He looks up from his work just long enough to give you a soft smile.

"I was wondering," You lean against the frame, avoiding actually entering lest you get sucked in as well, "If my dear husband was going to come to bed tonight?"

The bright lamp on his desk means you see his blush even from across the room. He huffs an embarrassed laugh, but starts shuffling paperwork into orderly piles.

"I hadn't realized the time, my apologies."

You hum, "It is understandable. But I cannot rest if you are not in bed with me."

You watch as he tucks away his tools, pulls his gloves off, and undoes the tie in his hair, all with a much to pleased smirk on his face.

He pulls you into a delicate, lingering kiss with a hand on your neck. The warmth of his skin makes you shiver. You lean into him, letting him wrap you in his arms.

He chuckles, "Well, I would hate to neglect my husbandly duties."

1. The lingering warmth from your bath and the softness of the sheets has you dozing in minutes. You toss a hand onto Diluc's side of the bed, wanting to be present when he comes to bed as well but the ache of a long day is catching up to you.

After several moments you feel a calloused hand grasp your own. You are too tired to properly see, but feel the dip as he climbs into bed.

Still holding your hand in a delicate grip, he presses a kiss to your palm, and then your cheek.

"Sleep, my love, I am here."

Zhongli

1. Zhongli re-enters the house not even ten minutes after leaving. He is patting down his jacket and looking about the entryway in wonder, and you can't help but chuckle.

"Forget something?"

"Yes," he plants his hands on his hips, "I can't seem to find my wallet. I could have sworn I remembered it this time."

You get up from where you were leisurely awaiting his return, and snag the 'disappearing' wallet from where he left it on the table.

"Not quite, old man." You wave it, teasing.

"Ah, of course."

Tucking it into the pocket of his jacket, you tug him closer to plant a kiss on his flushed cheek.

"My apologies, it seems I was a bit distracted this morning."

He tucks a piece of hair away from your face, gaze so blatantly loving you can't help but crash your lips against his. Damn whatever appointment he may have, he shouldn't be so handsome in your direction.

2. It is not every day you wake up before him, so you try to make the most of it. You prepare his clothes for the day, just so you can pick out your favorite of his shirts. You start a light breakfast, and brew an energizing blend of tea for both of your sake.

You spend some time simply waiting at the table, content to sip your tea and watch the morning birds.

When the soft shuffle of feet brings Zhongli into the kitchen, you stand up. He is mostly dressed, minus his tie and shoes, jacket loose around his shoulders.

You steer him to the table, and press a kiss to his cheek when seated.

He hums contentedly, still a bit sleepy, "Good morning."

You pour him a cup of tea as well, and his smile grows a bit wider. He tilts his head up, "Thank you."

You meet him half way, pressing a firm kiss to his mouth, "Of course dearest. Do you have anything pressing today?"

A hand comes to rest on your hip, preventing you from moving back to your seat.

"No, nothing more important than this."

3. Squished between the mattress and the press of his body, you couldn't imagine being more content. The warmth, the scent, the feel of his breath ghosting across your skin.

You run a reverent hand through his hair, spread loose over his back. It seems impossible for you to be this happy, like you would only read about in unrealistic fantasies.

Amber eyes are already watching you, when you open yours. His gaze is soft, unbearably so, so you look at the ceiling.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

He answers it so easily, as if it is among the many universal truths that exist in his head.

"You must understand," You wet your nervous mouth, "I mean it. Truly, I love you."

You feel his head tilt in confusion, but power on, emotions spilling.

"You are my starlight. My life would be unimaginably dark without you. I am scared constantly by the sway you have over me, but I cannot stand the idea of living without you. I want be here with you, forever, no matter the cost."

You squeeze your eyes shut against the flood of tears that threaten to spill, waiting for his polite retreat. His body lifts off yours and you pull a shuddering breath in, unused to laying yourself bare in this way. He could end you now, destroy you by just walking away.

But you feel tremoring hands grasp your face, almost too tightly. He doesn't say a word, can't, but presses his forehead to yours.

4. "Zhongli?" You call into the empty hum of the parlor, hoping it will carry to his office. It's not far, but he gets absorbed in his work easily.

You lean out the door a bit, and try to project your voice more, "Hey, honey?"

The door to his office clicks open, and his head pokes out. "Do you need assistance?"

"Yes, please," you adjust the pile of books in your arms, "Would you mind grabbing this other pile? A client requested reference material from just about every era, and I don't think I have the wing span to carry all of it."

He presses a quick kiss to your head, and scoops up the remaining books with no problem.

"Of course, would you like me to relieve you of those as well?"

"Not a chance, show off, you're gonna have to deal with the doors."

As if to prove your point, he balances the stack in one hand to hold the front door open for you, smile only slightly smug.

5. Given how busy your lives were, and his propensity for letting time fly, you figured he would forget again. It would not be the first anniversary he forgot, and you imagine it wouldn't be the last.

It's not like you could hold it against him, especially not when he was so earnest and loving all year round.

So your surprise was genuine when he led you, dressed in his best, to a private booth at Liuli Pavilion.

The food was made by the head chef, as a show of gratitude for Zhongli's long patronage (you send a quiet thank you to Childe), and the service superb. The evening is relatively quiet, you converse as normal but with the additional soppiness that comes from acknowledging romance.

You are especially glad for the privacy when you cannot help but practically ravish the man over the table, his face being too handsome to bear just looking at.

Shortly after, he looks at you with burning eyes, and finally says, "I am quite full. Perhaps we should head home."

"That sounds perfect."

You continue to stare, sappy and sated, as he blindly pats at his pockets, equally unwilling to look away.

After several moments, it dawns on you, and then immediately on him.

You can't help it. You laugh. Hysterically, because no matter what Zhongli is Zhongli.

He's standing now, flustered like you've never seen, pacing the room as if his wallet would be anywhere but the table at home.

"This was not my intent." He huffs, "I had planned the evening meticulously."

"And it was lovely," You choke back another laugh, "But, sugar, you are not living this down for the rest of our lives!"

You are laughing as you pull out your own wallet, giggling uncontrollably as you hand over all the money on your person, and can barely walk you're so light headed when he leads you out the door.

He doesn't once let you go, from the pavilion's steps to your front door. Indulgent to the end, your man.

1. It is always a pleasant surprise when your errands overlap. Working nearly in conjunction makes it happen quite often, but still, it makes your day brighter.

You have just finishing bartering your lunch into existence when you spot Zhongli headed your way. Quickly, you slip the chef a few more mora to add another dish.

He is at your side in an instant, bringing your hand to his lips in that coquettish way he has.

"There you are," he lowers your hand but does not drop it, "I've been looking for you, treasure."

You twine your fingers together, relishing the warmth. You snug up to his side, taking the liberty of placing his hand on your hip just to see him blush.

"Have you now?"

"Always."

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin diluc #genshin zhongli #(the chef after zhongli +1: excuse me this is a wendys)#an informal apology

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years ago

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Cry Little Sister

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, verbal threats, gaslighting, both reader and Peter are high school students, kinda slight incestuous undertones (the characters aren't related, though).

Words: 2214.

Summary: Your adopted older brother is not as nice as he seems, but no one is willing to believe you.

P.S. And yep, I used one of my favourite citations from Grishaverse in the end of this story. Hope you enjoy!

__________

"Peter, sweetheart, I knew you'd make it!" Your mother had clasped her hands together while your father patted Peter's shoulder. "The best test results in the whole class! My goodness, we need to celebrate it!"

You smiled at them tiredly, seeing the faces of your parents practically glowing. True, Peter was a damn smart guy. You had never achieved such high results despite all those nights you spent studying, while he didn't care much about it at all, it seemed. You hadn't seen him with a book yet.

"I'm gonna bake an apple pie for you." A smile of your mother made you feel bitter, and you averted your eyes, missing an odd look your older adopted brother sent you.

Half a year ago he finally came to live with your family once your parents finished gathering all the papers and waited for almost a year to receive "the call". You remembered how you had jumped happily in the living room along with your mom, believing it was finally over. Well, maybe it was over for Peter, but for you it was only a beginning. You could hardly imagine the sweet skinny guy who you considered very shy and bashful would change so drastically.

It started very subtle. First, Peter was trying to be helpful, assisting you when you did the housework - he was actually way better at cooking and cleaning than you and easily got praised by your mom. You were truly thankful to him for his help, especially since it was easier to get to know him while working together. It was then when you first spotted the odd looks he was sending you when he thought you didn't see. There was something... uneasy lingering in his gaze. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but sometimes Peter made you shiver with the way he spoke or touched you discreetly. It was strange. Of course, the boy didn't do or tell you something that would make you worried, but you just couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. You blamed it on the fact you couldn't get accustomed to a new life with an adopted brother yet. Surely, it wasn't supposed to be easy?

But the more you spent time together, the stronger that feeling got. Despite Peter becoming a part of your family as easily as if he had always been your parents' son, you were wary of his sudden urges to touch you and always keep you in his sight. At first you thought he was just touch starved and needed human warmth. Maybe for Peter it was just easier to come to you rather than your parents since you were almost the same age as him. But then... one day you saw him going through your things and taking one of your lipsticks from your makeup bag. You suddenly remembered losing a lip gloss two weeks ago.

Trying to voice your concerns, you talked to your mom who was so insensitive she went to speak with Peter right away. Of course, he said it wasn't true and you had probably misunderstood him since he only wanted to borrow a pen. He even showed his table and wardrobe to demonstrate he didn't hide anything.

From that time Peter had changed. He didn't hide his unhealthy behavior from you anymore, and he was scaring you with the things he had done, keeping an eye on you when you were around and stalking you if you were not, never staying far away aside from the time he had to be in class.

Of course, he sensed that you were becoming resteless, less and less eager to spend time with him, blaming it on lots of homework or sudden meetings with friends. You weren't blind to his frightening affection - if you could call his feelings like that. Why was he doing it? Despite spending only several months living with you, your parents loved him dearly, paying him twice more attention than you. You had never protested against it, knowing a poor soul like him who didn't have his own family needed all the help he could get now. But this... this wasn't alright. This wasn't a feeling siblings should have for each other. Did Peter consider you one? Did you truly consider him your older brother? You weren't sure. Nevertheless, it still didn't feel right.

Carefully, you attempted to talk to your father about it, vagualy wording your concerns and giving him little details - sure, you didn't like how Peter was behaving, but he didn't deserve to be banished from your family and sent back. You still believed something could be done to set everything right. Maybe the boy just didn't realize things were not supposed to work this way in a family. However, your father laughed it all off. He said little girls like you were thinking too much of themselves lately, claiming the whole world was obsessed with them. Peter simply tried to be a good brother and look out for you.

You had never felt more humiliated in your entire life.

Dropping all attempts to bring Peter's unhealthy behaviour to your parents' attention, you decided there was just one thing to do - separate yourself from him completely.

No more doing the housework together, no more chats in the kitchen in the morning, no more having lunch together at school, no more cuddles in the evening. You kept yourself as busy as you could - in the morning you did jogging, at school you spent time with your friends, in the evening you were taking your books and doing your homework in the park, at your friend's place or anywhere convenient. Even though Peter tried following you, you had started to change places all of a sudden to keep him away from you.

This was when he had enough of you distancing yourself.

Suddenly, Peter fighted for affection of your parents with such ferocity as if you tried to strip him of their love. His gradea were suddenly way better than yours - he claimed he had finally felt safe in his new home and could spent his energy elsewhere. The way he behaved was even more sweet than before. On the other hand, strange things started happening to you: once your mother found your expensive satin blouse torn and blamed it on you and your carelessness; the other time the chicken you cooked was so salty it ended in a trash bin; your friend received threats coming from your phone number, though you had never ever sent anything like that to her.

It was easy to guess who was doing this to you, but Peter never admitted it out loud. Talking to your parents was worthless, too, as in their eyes the boy was a pure blessing. How could you blame him for things you did to catch their attention?

Shit. You knew something was wrong with Peter, but you could hardly imagine to what extent he could go to have his way. It was unbelievable a boy like him could manipulate people so easily, wrapping them around his finger. Why was he doing it? Everyone already loved him. Everyone but you.

"Y/N!" Your mother's sharp voice broke the silence, and you hurried downstares, finding your mom near the washing machine with a wet black sock in her hands. "Are you out of your mind?! Did you put your black socks in there when I said to bring your WHITE clothes?!"

"But I didn't!" You gawked at her, knowing perfectly you only brought her what she asked you to. "I swear I didn't!"

"Oh yes, of course, it's Peter who went through your dirty clothes to incriminate you, dear." She sneered at you. "You have to come up with a new excuse, this is getting old. Look what you've done, my white jeans are ruined!"

"Please, mom, I-"

"Go to your room. I don't want to see or hear you." She snapped, tossing the sock to the floor as you stared at her in horror. She had never been so irritated like in the past month when your "slip-ups" were happening more and more often.

Racing upstairs, you pressed your hand to your mouth, trying not to cry. Why was he still doing it to you? Why did Peter want everything to be like he wished? Why did your parents never believe you? It was you who was their true daugther, for God's sake!

Locking the door, you fell down on your bed, burying your head in your soft pillow. It started to become unbearable. Why was this all happening? Despite your growing hate towards Peter, you couldn't say that he was ugly and unpleasant. He was easy on the eyes and could be really nice to people around him, and it made Peter quite popular among the girls at school. Why on Earth didn't he set his eyes on anyone other than you? There were plenty of girls who'd be willing to date him and give him as much attention as he wanted.

You wiped away your angry tears with your pillow, biting on your lower lip. It was unfair, and you weren't going to give in to him just because Peter wanted to play with you like a spoiled child. You'd find a way to prove you weren't guilty of all those things he wanted to pin on you, you just needed to gather yourself and think properly.

Suddenly, you heard someone knocking on your window and rushed to it immediately: your room was on the third floor. Seeing Peter sitting on the bench of a tree, you gasped in shock. You opened the window right away, praying for him to stay still.

"Are you out of your mind?" You whispered in horror, holding out your hand to him. "What are you doing there?!"

He smiled at you like nothing was happening, taking your arm and crawling towards your window. In the next moment he was already inside your room, grinning like a kid and shutting the window behind himself. You furrowed your brows, your heart racing. Peter was insane!

"What if you slipped?" You asked him furiously. "Are you mad? Do you want to die?!"

"No, but you wouldn't let me in your room unless I came in the window." He admitted carelessly and smiled, reaching out to you and enveloping you in a hug. "I'm glad you don't want me to fall."

"You're out of your mind, brother." You grunted, trying to push him away, but his grip was only becoming stronger. "What are you doing? Let me go, please."

"But I want a hug from you. Is it so bad?"

You clenched your teeth, watching him angrily. "You just made my mom scream at me for that stupid sock. You think you deserve a hug?"

"I only did it because you're stubborn. It's your fault I had come to this, Y/N." His sickly sweet smile made you nauseated as you put your hands on his chest in attempt to keep him away. "Come on, why have you been acting so cold? I just want to be a part of your family."

"Are you serious?"

Your eyes could burn a hole in his face as you stared at him, getting more and more angry with his behaviour and trying to blame you for his own actions.

"This isn't like it should be in a family, Peter. We're siblings now. Siblings don't do it... l-like that." You felt your face growing hot as you became deeply embarrassed, knowing how your words could be interpreted.

"But we're not siblings, are we?" He tilted his head to the side, narrowing his dark eyes at you and smiling widely.

You growled in irritation, still unable to get rid of him holding you like a doll in his hands.

"If you don't want me to be your sister, what family are you talking about, then?"

"We'll, it's not the only family I can have with you, right?"

You stilled, unsure you understood what Peter meant as he chuckled with content, watching you getting more and more confused while he gently caressed your back. What other family he could possibly mean?

It took you a few seconds to realize he was talking about marriage between you two.

Your eyes popped out of its sockets. Was he fucking serious? That kind of family? No, he should have been out of his mind completely. He definitely had to see a psychiatrist or something!

"You're joking, aren't you?" You muttered, shocked. "You can't be serious!"

"But I am, sister." Peter's sweet smile was slowly turning sinister as he leaned closer to you, dropping a kiss to your temple as you shivered against him, wanting nothing but get away. "And you better stop with that silly attitude of yours if you don't want me to get real angry."

"And what are you going to do if I don't? What if I will tell everyone about this?"

He smirked, touching your forehead with his and closing his eyes for a second.

"I see you still don't understand." Peter whispered to you, watching you getting more and more nervous. “I will strip away all that you know, all that you love, until you have no one but me.”

___________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight

#peter parker #dark peter parker #peter parker x reader #dark peter parker x reader #spider-man #yandere #tom holland

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floating-mid-air · 4 years ago

Text

The Princess of All Saiyans

Masterlist

So first things first. I should probably mention that I killed Chi-Chi off before the start of the story. I completely forgot to include it in the notes last chapter. So sorry if there was any confusion there.

Ever since the last chapter, I've been kinda hooked on flashbacks. So there will be another one, this one featuring the man, the myth, the legend, the most ruthless of all the Saiyans King Vegeta. Also, my dumbass finally decided to create a Masterlist. I realized it's much easier than linking chapters individually.

Chapter 7

You've been on Planet Namek for approximately two hours, and the day has already been tremendously eventful. You and Vegeta have already had a run-in with Cui, who arrived shortly after you. That purple cretin went out the same way he lived as a spineless coward. Something was extremely satisfying about watching Vegeta drive that failure into the ground. Cui's demise was entirely his own fault. It's common knowledge that Saiyans grow stronger after a near-death experience. Underestimating your brother's growth was an act of pure stupidity.

After that minor inconvenience, the two of you toon into Dodoria's transmission, it sounds like those goons are slaughtering a village of Namekians, so they must store their Dragon Balls in separate settlements. Either that or they're executing them for leisure. Both are feasible possibilities. From what you've been able to gather, Frieza has four Dragon Balls in his possession, and he's currently after his fifth. Frieza even reveals some essential information on how these Namkeian villages operate. Before the signal cuts off entirely.

Vegeta attempts to find another channel, but they all come up as static. "Those Namekians must be craftier than they look. Something tells me Frieza's scouters are out of commission."

"Perhaps." He turns to you. "Or they figured out we were eavesdropping. Either way, keep your guard up."

The two of you fly around aimlessly. Though you still need to be careful. Frieza is somewhere on this god-forsaken planet, and a run-in with him and his lackeys at the moment would be unfavorable. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot something that catches your attention. " I spy with my little eye an unsightly pink blob."

You direct Vegeta's attention to Dodoria, who has his classic disoriented look on his face. "Good eye." He smirks at you before ambushing Dodoria, knocking him into the water. You appear beside your brother on the shoreline, observing the water intently.

Two pink hands grasp onto the terrain as he pulls his head up, gasping for air. You both laugh maniacally at the pink creature's stupidity. You swear, after every encounter you have with Dodoria, he somehow gets dumber. "Oh, it's you two." He sounds far from pleased as he pulls himself out of the lake. "What the hell do you want?"

"Mind your manners, Dodoria." You scold him. "No need to be crude."

He scowls at you. "Arrogant Saiyans." He mutters under his breath. "That was a dirty trick Vegeta. Although I wouldn't expect anything less from you monkeys." Dodoria straightens his posture in an attempt to appear more intimidating. Spoiler alert, it doesn't work. "You know I can't just let you get away with blindsiding me."

Vegeta chuckles, rolling his eyes at the monster. "Oh, really now? Just what do you plan on doing? You're all alone. There's no Zarbon or Frieza for you to cower behind. How unfortunate for you."

"I doubt we'll even have to lift a finger." You shrug. "This should be a piece of cake."

Dodoria chuckles, shifting his gaze between you and Vegeta. "You two really think you can take me? You're both as egotistical as that father of yours, and you know how that ended for him. You Saiyan freaks will never be half the warrior that I am." You clench your fists, your nails digging into your palm. How dare he even mention your father. "Listen, I know neither of you desires to fight me. And I don't particularly want to fight you either. So how about you just give me that scouter, and we can forget this ever happened. That's more than a fair deal. I think I'm actually being quite generous." His tone may be confident, but his body language gives him away. Who knew the pink menace was actually afraid of something.

"So your presumption was right." Vegeta turns to you. "Those Namekians must have destroyed their scouters. This puts us in an intriguing situation, doesn't it Y/N?" Vegeta removes his scouter, tossing it on the ground. "What are you waiting for, Dodoria? Take it."

He eyes you both skeptically, but he still takes the bait. Critical thinking has never been Dodoria's strong suit. "About time you brats showed me the respect I deserve." As he steps closer, Vegeta stomps on the scouter. The wretched thing, smashing into thousands of worthless pieces.

The pink monstrosity sneers. "No worries. I'll just take the girl's scouter." He speeds toward you, extending a hand in an attempt to rip the device off your face. Before he can even touch you, you grasp his arm, bending it behind his back.

"Why do they always think it's appropriate to get handsy with me?" A breathy sigh escapes your lips. "They'll never learn." You remove your scouter, holding it in the palm of your unoccupied hand. "Since you want it so bad." You snap your scouter in half, discarding the parts to the ground. "You ever think about laying your filthy hands on me again, you'll lose them." You toss the fool several feet away. The farther away he is, the better.

"Why would you--- it doesn't even matter." He stands back up, dusting himself off. "Now, you won't be able to find the Dragon Balls either."

You shake your head at him, a pleased look crossing your features. "Not exactly. You see, Earth was quite the adventure. We picked up a few new tricks. One that leaves those hunks of metal useless."

Dedoria furrows his brows at you, his entire face contorting. "You're lying."

"I'm afraid she isn't. This energy-sensing technique is quite simple. I doubt any of the members of the elite Frieza Force would be interested, though. It doesn't require much strength, and everyone knows you don't care for anything that doesn't involve flexing your muscles." Dodoria is more fat than muscle. It's an irrelevant technicality, one that would only piss off the blob more.

"I get it now." He seems to come to some sort of a realization. Only you have no idea what the hell he's referring to. "Those two runts I was chasing were earthlings." You stare at him in disbelief. Is it possible for them to be here? Raditz, he's the only possible explanation. But would he really be dumb enough to lead those weaklings to their deaths?

"W-What did you say?" Vegeta's mouth hangs agape.

"So I'm right. The looks on your faces tell me all I need to know. You're working together."

You combust into a fit of laughter, wiping tears from your eyes. This has to be the funniest thing you've heard all week. "Even if those pests were here. Never in a million years would we align ourselves with those soft-hearted fools."

"You must be mistaken. Even if those earthlings were here, we'd be able to sense them." Now that you think about it. Have you been able to sense them? You haven't been looking, but you have felt some strange energy. You just assumed it was some half-wit from the Frieza Force, but now you're not so sure.

"It doesn't really matter anyway." He rolls his eyes. "You two are no longer any use to me. So either get lost, or I'll have to finish you off myself."

"Why, how generous of you." The sarcasm practically drips from your voice. "I think he's afraid Vegeta."

"Well, can you blame him? His scouter probably told him everything he needed to know. He must have seen my battle with Cui." For every step Vegeta takes forward, Dodoria takes another backward. "He must have seen how much stronger I've become."

"That isn't possible." He scoffs. "Those numbers were inaccurate, and I'll prove it!" He shoots an uncontrollable blast of fire at you both, which you simply dodge by stepping out of the line of fire.

"Was that really the best you could do?" You mock. It was sloppy even for an attack from Dodoria.

He turns around, only to be met with the two of you behind him, floating in the air. Vegeta swiftly moves behind him, grabbing both of his arms, twisting them behind his back. You swear you even heard them snap. "Look how weak you are." Vegeta sneers. "I'm stronger than I've ever been. While you've been sitting on your ass all-day, becoming soft and lazy. I should just end your pitiful life here."

"Wait, Vegeta!" He cries. "I have something to tell you! Something you'll really want to know! It's about your homeworld. I know the truth about Planet Vegeta!" Does that pink blob actually believe he has a form of leverage? What a fool.

"What could you possibly know about Planet Vegeta? You better start talking!" You furrow your brows at your brother. He's behaving strangely. And why is he humoring Dodoria in the first place? Vegeta has to already know about what they did to your homeworld.

"I will, but first, you have to let me go." Vegeta releases Dodoria from his death grip, pushing him away.

"Now, spit it out!" You observe the pair from a safe distance. Vegeta's response is bizarre, and his body language seems to have no ulterior motives. Is it possible that Vegeta doesn't know? You grab your forehead, running a hand through your hair. If that's the case, Vegeta is going to fucking kill you.

"As you know, Planet Vegeta was destroyed, but it wasn't by a meteor. Lord Frieza had started to notice numerous Saiyan babies being born with extraordinary combat skills. You two were the most notable in power. He realized that you Saiyans could really be a problem. You had the potential of becoming a real bother to Lord Frieza's regime. So he decided to wipe out the only race that could ever impose him before they could even become an issue. He destroyed Planet Vegeta with every last Saiyan on it. Well, except for you two. Did you really think it was a coincidence that you were off-planet? So there it is, you two are finally in on our little joke."

You've always known what happened to your planet. But now you've learned the answer to an even more substantial question, why it occurred. Frieza was afraid. He decided to take the coward's way out. How pathetic.

You laugh, tilting your head backward. "That was your big ploy? I've known about that for years!" Before he can even react, you teleport behind him, impaling your hand through his chest, watching the purple goop ooze out of him. "How stupid did you think we were?" You twist your hand, tossing his lifeless body to the ground before obliterating anything left of him.

Vegeta stares at you in shock. "You knew?"

You raise a brow at him. "You didn't?" You always assumed that it was one of those things that you both knew but never spoke off. Turns out you were mistaken.

The two of you stand in silence. You have no idea what the protocol is for this. You don't know what you're supposed to say. Vegeta looks away, sighing. "It's irrelevant now. It was probably for the best that I was left in ignorance. Who knows what I would've done as a child. I'm just annoyed that you were able to figure it out before me."

You smile at him. Besting Vegeta is not something that comes easily. So you'll take what you can get. "You know, I don't think he was wrong about the earthlings."

"You think they're here?"

You nod. "You gotta remember. Raditz is with them now."

"Good point. When I get my hands on that pathetic excuse for a Saiyan, he'll regret ever betraying us. Let's go. We can't be out in the open for too long."

He hovers in the air, beginning to take off. "Vegeta." He turns back, meeting your gaze. "You know I would've told you, right?"

"I know---" He cuts himself off, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. "Do you sense that?" You nod, taking off in the direction of the two large power sources. Dodoria had mentioned that they were runts. So one of them has to be the half-breed and possibly the bald fellow. Your eyes scan over the terrain. They have to be around here somewhere. "They must be suppressing their power levels. Only if I still had my damn scouter. I'm not used to this technique just yet."

Bingo. You found them hiding between a few boulders. And your assumptions were right. There's only a slight difference. They seem to be accompanied by a Namkian child. A sadistic grin spreads across your face as their gazes land on you. Just the way you remember them, cowering in fear due to your presence. "You know. It was probably just three insignificant insects." You're not wrong. That's all they are to you. Pesky flies that invade your personal space and make your life slightly more irritating.

"You're right. We don't have time for this anyway. Let's get a move on." You both take off, leaving the earthling issue for another time.

It took you awhile, but you finally located a Namkeian village. Well, actually, you passed several, but this is the only one with a living population. "Looks like we found ourselves a Dragon Ball." Vegeta's lips twist into a sly grin, heading straight into the village. You follow his lead, now standing directly beside him. You've finally gained the attention of the inhabitants, who are now murmuring to each other. Who knew Namekians were such gossips. Their chatter dies down the second Vegeta clears his throat. "I wish to speak to your elder. I believe there is a Dragon Ball here, that we'll be graciously taking off your hands."

"I'm the village elder." An older Namkain steps up. These creatures do not age kindly. "I would ask you what your intentions are, but I can already feel that you are impure. I sense an unspeakable evil in both of you. Neither of you is worthy." What a self-righteous species. They're entirely different from that Namekian you encountered on Earth.

Vegeta shakes his head, chuckling to himself. Only if the Namekians cooperated, Vegeta has never taken the word no very well. "Then you die. Y/N, you do the honors." This could've ended smoothly, with a lot less bloodshed. Too bad for them.

"You got it, Vegeta." You hold up a finger gun, pointing it straight at the elder. "Bang!" A beam of blue light heads straight for the geezer before another Namkian jumps in front of him, absorbing the blast entirely. The body drops to the ground, and all hell breaks loose.

You begin the slaughter, ending the lives of several Namkeians. Until you freeze, as much as you've been itching for a fight, you're reminded of something far more crucial that you have to fulfill. Damn your morals. They're ruining all your fun. You take one last glance at your brother. These Namekians should keep him occupied for some time. He might not even notice that you ever left. As soon as he turns away from you, you take off, successfully staying off of Vegeta's radar.

You use your newly acquired energy-sensing technique to track down that Namekian child. Since those earthlings are suppressing their energy, they'll be much more difficult to find. This is assuming he's still with them. Those earthlings aren't like you. Neither of them would be able to stomach, leaving him for dead.

You pinpoint the energy source to a cave. What a strange place for them to reside in. You head into the cavern, only to find some form of futuristic architecture. How the hell did this get here? And what is Capsule Corp? You move toward the door, banging on it. "Knock, knock. Oh, little piglets, let me in! Before I knock the door down. Or worse." You can overhear faint whispering on the other side, mixed with a woman obnoxiously shrieking. "I can hear you panicking. Relax, I have no business with the half-breed, the Namekian child, or any earthlings in there. Now open the damn door."

The door slowly opens, revealing the bald man, whose name you believe to be Krillin. "What do you want, Y/N?"

"I need to speak to Raditz. It's urgent."

"Well, you can't---" Krillin gets pushed to the ground by none other than the infamous Hair Boy himself. This allows you to step inside the building. It must be some sort of luxury living quarters.

The two of you stand arm's length from each other, matching cold expressions on your faces. "You here to kill me?"

"No." The corners of your lips tug upwards. "Well, at least not yet."

"So why are you here?" His face twists in confusion. "You aren't one to just drop in and say hi."

You take a deep breath, glancing around the room. This would be difficult to say one-on-one, but being surrounded by people makes it ten times worse. "There's something--- I need to tell you."

An arrogant smirk appears on his lips. "What? Did you finally fall for my good looks and charm? Are you finally declaring that you've fallen hopelessly in love with me?"

Your face scrunches up in disgust. "Don't make me ill." That would never happen, even if he was the last male Saiayn in existence, which he pretty much is. "I'm here to tell you the truth about what occurred on Planet Vegeta."

"What are you talking about?" Raditz eyebrows knit together. "A meteor wiped out our people."

You sigh, glancing at the ceiling. "Come on, Raditz. You're a lot of things, but you aren't stupid. There was no meteor. Even if there was one, our people could fly."

"What are you trying to say?" he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to shield himself from the inevitable blow.

"Our people were exterminated by that imperialistic dictator." Your voice booms. You're not even attempting to conceal your anger.

Raditz clenches his fists, his hands violently shaking. All he can think about is his mother, how she deserved better. The majority of your people deserved what they got, but not Gine. She was different. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Raditz always knew there was no meteor. The story was too perfect, and it was easier to believe that it was a tragedy. "Why?" That was all he could manage to choke out. Did Raditz really want to know? Would he be able to handle the truth?

The others in the room remain silent, observing you anxiously. You're even more terrifying than they believed. You're not joking around or aloof this time. You're only expressing one thing, pure rage. So you do care about something. Whether you desire vengeance or truly cared for your people is unclear to the earthlings.

"Frieza was terrified. Our people were getting too strong for his liking. The Saiyan population was skyrocketing due to technological advancements. He was scared of what we could accomplish, terrified of the possibility that he could be out-ranked."

A Cheshire grin appears on Raditz's face. "We'll prove to him that he was right to fear us, right?"

"You bet your ass we will. We'll make Frieza regret leaving us alive." You take a deep breath, finally attempting to get your emotions in check, returning to your cold demeanor. "I just thought you should know. Before I killed him, Dodoria let the cat out of the bag to Vegeta."

"You killed that pink asshole? It was about time. How'd it feel?" The other stare at you two in bewilderment. Two seconds ago, you were swearing revenge, and now you're as casual as can be.

"It was extremely satisfying sending that pink blob straight to hell." You purse your lips together, cracking your neck. I should get back before Vegeta blows a fuse." You move to the doorway, stopping dead in your tracks. "Oh, ya one, last thing. Frieza's here."

"We know his men are here. We've already had the pleasure of encountering the Frieza Force."

"Raditz, I'm afraid you don't understand. It's not just his minions. He's here on Namek." Raditz chokes on air, his eyes popping out. You slam the door shut, hearing Raditz's reaction through the walls. The phrases we're so fucked, and we're all gonna die were your favorites of his elaborate babbling. You take off, heading back in the direction you came from.

As you near the location of the village, you quickly realize there is no point in returning. You can't sense any life, and that includes Vegeta. So this means he knows you ran off. You were due for one of his famous lectures anyway. Hopefully, he's not wasting his time searching for you. That would only make your predicament worse.

You search in every direction, finally detecting your brother's energy to the west. Vegeta's power level is diminishing at an alarming rate. Maybe he's run into Zarbon or worse, Frieza. You take off at light speed, heading straight for the battleground.

Once you arrive, you conceal yourself behind a hill, observing the battle intently. It appears that Vegeta is fighting Zarbon, but something is off about the narcissist. His chest seems broader than it usually is.

Zarbon turns around, your eyes widening at the ghastly sight. What the fuck happened to his face? He has to be the most hideous creature you've ever laid your eyes on, and there's a lot of competition for that category. This must be an alternate form of his, similar to your Great Ape form. It doesn't surprise you that you've never seen his transformation before. Even though it considerably increases his strength, his vanity has no limit.

The green-haired egomaniac slams your brother into the ground, creating a blazing explosion. He stares down into the water-filled crater, and Vegeta is nowhere to be found. Your brother has gotten especially good at playing dead as of recent.

Zarbon reverts back into his base form, flying off into the distance. You wait an appropriate amount of time before heading toward the teal mass of water. You scan the lake, searching for your brother. He surfaces back up seconds later, desperately gasping for air. You extend a hand to Vegeta, pulling him onto land.

He takes a few moments to collect himself before glaring daggers at you. "Where the--- hell did you run off to?" Despite being winded, he manages to find the breath to shout at you.

"I sensed some members of the Frieza Force. Thought I'd say hello." Believable lies are your specialty at this point.

"You can't---" He stops himself, his features softening at your expression. "Just never do that again. No more running off, especially without telling me. I'm serious this time. With Freiza here, I don't want you leaving my side again."

You can feel a familiar power level rapidly approaching, Zarbon's returning. "Change of plans. Go retrieve the Dragon Ball from that Namkian village. I tossed it in the water. I'll take care of the five that Frieza has."

"But, Vegeta." You giggle. "I'm not supposed to leave your side."

He glares at you. "Of course, now you decide to start listening to me. There is no reason for both of us to get captured. Now go!" You move to camouflage yourself again. Zarbon must need Vegeta for something. They most likely found the decimated village and want to question him about the location of the orb.

You watch Zarbon pick up your brother, who's pretending to be unconscious, and he flys away. You wait till you can no longer see Zarbon before speeding off to the Namekian village. Your plan is to retrieve the sphere and then take shelter somewhere. That is until you can sense Vegeta again.

You land in the ruins that were once the Namekian village. Damn Vegeta, did a lot of damage here. Your head snaps to the water. You swear you heard a splashing noise, and it couldn't have been a sea creature. If it was, the sound would've been louder. So what is it? Could it be one of Freiza's goons? If it is, they're probably weak. You'd be able to take them out with ease.

The creature emerges from the water with the four-star ball in his hands. He's a tiny little thing, way too small to be anyone currently in the Frieza Force. Something about the runt seems vaguely familiar. Wait a minute, that's Kakarot's brat. His hair's just shorter than it used to be. Half breeds must be able to change the length and style of their hair, fascinating.

You sneak behind him with a blank look on your face. "What do you think you're doing, brat?"

Gohan jumps, turning around. "Y/N?" He shrieks, dropping the orb, which you swiftly catch one-handed. He looks around, anxiously searching for something or possibly someone. "Where's Vegeta?" His voice trembles just at saying your brother's name alone. Vegeta must have left quite the impression.

"Vegeta got himself---" You can feel Zarbon's impending presence once again, and the look on the brat's face tells you he can sense it too. This energy-sensing technique is becoming quite tedious, but you suppose it's better than being blindsided. What could Zarbon possibly want now? He already took Vegeta. Maybe he came to search for the Dragon Ball himself? Shit, you can't stay out in the open like this. You grab Gohan in one arm. And the four-starred ball in the other, rushing into a nearby cave. As an extra precaution, you seal the entrance with a boulder. Zarbon may be vain, but he's also significantly brighter than Dodoria was. Though that isn't very hard to do.

You put a finger up to your lips, signaling for Gohan to keep quiet. The foot-steps outside grow louder. He must be standing right outside the cave by now. "Where are you, Vegeta?" He sounds deranged. So Vegeta did escape. Your best guess for Zarbon's erratic behavior is that Vegeta's prison break put Zarbon in hot water with Frieza. "Lord Frieza is going to have my head if I don't retrieve those Dragon Balls." Your insane brother actually did it. He stole the Dragon Balls from right under Frieza's nose. You're father's probably smiling up from hell as we speak.

You slide against the cave wall, dropping to the ground, leaning your head against the rock. You both might be here for a while. Zarbon is quite thorough with his searches. If he were to find you, it would put you in a tricky situation, especially with a Dragon Ball in your possession.

Gohan walks over to you, sitting down across from you. "Who is that?" Even though he's whispering, he's still being too loud for your liking."

"It's Zarbon. Now be quiet." You cover the orange ball in dirt and moss. If Zarbon does find you, the orb will be hidden in plain sight. Once finished with your little project, you shut your eyes. It's almost like you're alone. And not trapped in an enclosed space with your opposition's son.

"Y/N?" Your eyes snap open, immediately narrowing at the boy. You were about to reprimand him, but that was until you noticed the item in his hands. Your features soften as he extends the necklace to you.

You accept the necklace, grasping it tightly in your hands. "Thanks." A slight smile ghosts your lips before quickly vanishing.

"I was just returning what was yours." He looks at you, nervously twiddling his thumbs. "Hey Y/N? Where did you get that necklace from?" You hold up the jewelry, swinging the chain back and forth, getting lost in the memory.

Twenty-something years ago:

You're sitting down on your bed, with a book placed in your hands. Your gaze scans carefully over each word, occasionally flicking your wrist to flip the page. This is the newest piece of literature in your vast collection. You've only had this book for a few weeks. Vegeta gave it to you when he and Nappa returned from a mission off-planet. The book is all about these things called wish orbs. If you gather all seven, you can be granted all sorts of magical wishes. Vegeta says they're nothing more than a fairytale. That it's childish to believe in such an absurd concept, but you're convinced they exist. You've definitely seen stranger things occur, so it's in the realm of possibility for orbs to grant wishes.

You hadn't even noticed that your father had entered your room. Until he was standing directly in front of you. Panic overtakes your body, your heart beating out of your chest. You slide the book under your comforter, even though it was much too late to hide the evidence. Your reaction may seem a bit extreme, but it's for a good reason. Books aren't necessarily illegal on Planet Vegeta, but they are forbidden. Your father believes that literacy is a waste of time. He considers combat training to be more essential to the prosperity of the Saiyan race.

"Relax." His gruff voice invades your ears. "I already know about the various books you hide around the palace." The king is a very observant man, making it extremely challenging to keep things from him. His general policy regarding situations like this is, he won't say anything unless someone brings it to his attention. Then he would be forced to move his hand, having to find a proper form of punishment.

"Is---Is there something you need?" It's not like him to drop by unannounced. Your father is a very busy man, sometimes you won't even see him for months at a time.

"As you know, you're going on a crucial mission tomorrow. Are you going to behave for your brother?" You nod in agreement. "You are also not to leave his side, do you understand me?" Ever since the incident, you're not allowed off-planet without either your father or Vegeta. One of them has to watch you like a hawk at all times because of one stupid mistake. That will probably be held over your head for the rest of your mortal life.

"Yes, sir." You decide to give him verbal confirmation as well. This way, you can avoid any potential lectures.

"Now, let's get down to business. While I was out on my last excursion. I found this piece of junk with my things. I thought I'd check if you wanted it before I destroyed it." He holds up the necklace. The pendant immediately catches your eye. It's one of the pictures from your book, the four-star wish orb.

You nod, accepting the gift. You wrap the chain around your wrist, toying with the trinket. You've gotten pretty good at reading between the lines when it comes to your father. Saiyans aren't meant to express their emotions. You're raised to suppress them. Your father picks up on little things, like the fact that you're currently obsessed with wish orbs. You and Vegeta had to have gotten your conflicting behaviors from somewhere. And that somewhere was your father. The King of all Saiyans, the most ruthless of them all, deeply cared for his children.

He places his hands on your shoulders, causing you to look up at him. His eyes flicker with vulnerability as you stare at him. "Listen to me. Vegeta needs you just as much as you need him. You are capable of things that he isn't. And you are much stronger than you give yourself credit for. You are my sole daughter, the pinnacle of Saiyan pride. Never forget where you came from."

"A-Are you alright? You're acting weird."

"I'm fine, Y/N. Now get to sleep. You have to be up early." He leans down, kissing the top of your head before exiting the room. This only elevates your confusion. Your father has never done that before. Physical affection is not something Saiyan's participate in. At least they aren't supposed to.

Little did you know, this would be the last time you ever saw your father alive. Looking back on it, as an adult, his strange behavior makes sense. This was his way of saying goodbye. He must have had some inkling about Frieza's plans for your race.

You snap back into reality, shifting your gaze to Gohan. Typically when you spaced out, it would irritate your companions. Maybe it would even earn you a scolding from Vegeta. But the kid has just been sitting there, keenly anticipating your response.

"My father gave it to me." Your tone softens. Nostalgia sometimes does that to you. Gohan is the first person you've ever told the origin of your necklace. It wasn't necessarily a secret. You've just never felt the need to talk about it.

Some Final Notes:

"Wasn't he the king, though? Couldn't he have given you a diamond or gold necklace? Or something fit for royalty?"

"He could have. It was more about the sentiment behind the necklace." And with that, the silence returns. Being in this cave really reminds you of your pod. Scratch that it's worse. The brat is just too nice to the point where it's nauseating. For the half-breed's sake, you hope that Zarbon leaves soon. Because you're not sure how much more of this you'll be able to take.

Some Final Notes:

I know some of you might think King Vegeta was a bit out of character. However, I believe King Vegeta did care for his children to an extent. I know there’s some confusion in the fanbase about Tarble, whether he’s canon or not. But since the script for Yo! Son Goku and His Friends Return!!! was a concept created by Akira Toriyama. I personally believe Tarble is cannon. So King Vegeta banishing his son, rather than executing him, does show he had empathy for Tarble, even though he was viewed as a disgrace on his entire bloodline.

#goku #goku x reader #saiyan reader #vegeta #vegeta's sister #dbz x reader #dbz fanfiction #dragon ball x reader #dragon ball z #dragon ball fanfiction #son goku x reader

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batgurl1989 · 4 years ago

Text

A Wolf In Toussaint Chapter Three

Summary: After being summoned by the Duchess, you and Geralt head to the Palace of Beauclair with some trouble on the road.

Word Count: 2120

Warnings: spoilers for the Blood and Wine DLC

A/N: I know this is so soon after the last chapter, but I was too excited not to post it. Taglist is open, requests are open.

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

Taglist: @rmtndew @henrynerdfan @princesssterek @seanh-boredom @djinny-djin-djin @diegos-butt @cynic-spirit @daddys-littlewhitegirl

"Younin! Watch out!" Geralt growled a warning at you as you dodged a stream of caustic acid an Archespore shot at you. Where Igni hadn't scorched the ground, the large plant-like monsters' poison had. Geralt slashed at one of the large plants, trying to sever it's head.

You tried to stay to the edges of the battle zone, drawing on the smoldering embers for power as you kept fire shooting from one hand at the plants. You didn't have any silver weapons on you, which would have to be remedied as soon as possible. You knew Geralt was worried about you, and that was causing him to be distracted. It had only been a few days since you woke up, and this was the first time you had had to fight since the bandits on your way to Novigrad. You knew it was a risk to draw on the fire, as it was the hardest element to control, and the chaos was weakening you at an alarming rate. But right now, you didn't need to control where it went as long as you aimed wide of where Geralt was.

"It's multiplying!" You called out over the din of the fighting. Buds were springing from the ground. Though these weren't full blown monsters yet, the vibrations of the fire and the fighting were agitating them. One burst close to you, spitting acid in all directions. A droplet landed on your boot, sizzling as it ate through the leather. "Shit!"

Geralt was by your side in a flash, pulling your boot off before the acid could make it to your skin. His eyes met yours for the briefest of moments, concern and something else flashing in the golden depths. You nodded that you were alright, and he was gone again. He swung his heavy silver sword deftly into the monster, his energy seeming to have jolted back to full now that you had come close to being hurt.

Turning your attention to the buds, you carefully stepped further back, out of range of any shooting poison. With your boot off, the rocky ground bit into your sole, but you couldn't think about that now. As long as you avoided the acid pools, you could handle it. Eyeing up the buds that seemed ready to burst, you unleashed a stream of fire, using all your concentration to aim true. The blooming plants burst into fire, sizzling as they wilted to the ground, their poison remaining inside and lighting up with the petals.

Your head snapped around when you heard hissing and squealing. Geralt had slashed through the bud that served as the monster's head, ending the monster's life, and stopping it from creating more buds. He carefully wiped his blade off before returning it to it's sheath alongside his steel blade.

With laser-like focus, he stormed over to you, his hungry eyes raking over your body in such a way that your breath caught in your suddenly dry throat. The tip of your tongue darted out to wet your lips, his eyes tracking the motion like a starving animal. You heard a low rumble deep in his chest, and it set all your nerves on fire, ready for him.

When he reached you, he pulled you roughly into his arms, his mouth covering yours with such force your teeth clacked against his. A long low moan escaped you as you pressed against him, desperate to get closer. The adrenaline from the battle still coursed through both your veins, and it needed an outlet. His hands spanned your back, pressing you tightly against his armour, his fingers gripping the linen shirt you wore for the road. You clutched the grooves of his armour, standing on your toes to kiss him deeper, your tongue delving into his mouth to tangle with his own.

His hands travelled lower, gripping your arse before he lifted you off the ground. Instinctively you wrapped your leather bound legs around his waist, your arms going around his neck to steady yourself. With one arm banded under your legs, his free hand dove into your hair, pulling it free of the ponytail you had tossed it into. Your red hair caught in the breeze, fluttering around both your heads in a curtain of fire, blocking out the world.

You pulled away when breathing became a necessity, resting your forehead on his. His golden eyes searched yours, but you didn't know what he was looking for. You breathed deeply his scent, the adrenaline leaving your system, and your nerves calming. This man drove you wild and seemed to centre you. It was a complete whiplash effect, and had your head spinning, but you wouldn't give it up for anything.

"I suppose we should find the horses?" You whispered, not wanting to destroy the mood of your little world. Geralt chuckled softly, before kissing you all too briefly one last time. Slowly, he let you slide down his body until you were on solid ground again. As your foot hit the rocky ground, you remembered you only had one boot on. "I don't suppose you packed extra boots in my size?"

"Sorry, it was a vast oversight on my part." Geralt shook his head, going to retrieve your boot. He examined it quickly to make sure there was no acidic poison left on it, and to make sure the hole hadn't ruined the integrity of the boot. "You should be able to wear it until we get to the city. I promise to buy you a new pair."

"You don't have to do that. I can buy my own." You blushed as you sat on a nearby log to pull your boot back on. The hole wasn't any larger than the size of your pinky nail, and as long as it didn't rain, you would make it to the city. "Could we also stop by a blacksmith, and see about getting me a silver sword or at least a dagger?"

"Of course." Geralt nodded, offering you a hand to help you up once your boot was laced again. You took his rough hand, but didn't let go once you were vertical. He raised his eyebrows at you, but a small smile played at his lips, and his grip tightened around your fingers. "But first, horses."

It didn't take you long to find the horses. They had run off at the first sound of trouble, but these were Toussaint horses, and were used to being ridden into battle, so they hadn't gone far. They were munching grass as though bored, which you couldn't help but laugh at.

"Dandelion is bringing Roach and Marabelle when he comes down. He sent a letter while you were sleeping." Geralt explained once you were back on the road to the Palace of Beauclair.

"So the King let him go?" You were surprised that you hadn't been worried about it until now. Sure you had been busy being captured and then healing and regaining your strength, but your friend's well-being should have come to mind before now. You mentally kicked yourself for being so selfish. "Do we know yet what went wrong?"

"From what Yen could figure out from her sources, the King of Beggars is either working for someone who wants you and he was delivering you to him, or he was trying to get you away from the person who wants you." Geralt fought hard but ultimately failed to keep the edge off his tone. You weren't the only one jealous of an ex. "One day, you will have to tell me what he means to you."

"If that's what you really want." You had nothing to hide, and if Geralt needed to know for his own peace of mind, you wouldn't keep that from him.

"I'm not sure that it is." Geralt grumbled, adjusting the reins in his hands. "But it might be something that can give us a clue as to what just went down."

"Perhaps when we get back from the Palace, we will have time." You nodded. You knew how hard it was to ask about an ex, and if Geralt wasn't sure he was ready yet, you weren't going to push it. The King meant literally nothing to you other than as a friend, but you weren't sure Geralt would believe that without hearing the rest of it. "So is there anything I need to know about the Duchess?"

"Other than she likes things done her way and quickly, not really." Geralt shrugged. To him, the Duchess was no different than any other client, other than she had the army to back up her demands while farmers and villagers barely had the coin to get his services in the first place. "She can run a little hot and cold, but that depends on how grave the job is. If there is no job, she is actually quite pleasant to be around."

"Oh?" You raised your eyebrow at the Witcher, your voice dripping with unimpressed sarcasm. Knowing him and his past, there was only one conclusion that jumped out at you after what he said.

"Not like that, I swear." Geralt laughed deeply, warmly, in a way you rarely ever heard. Then his face grew serious. "Her sister, however..."

"You're joking! You have to be!" You blinked a few times, trying to wrap your head around the fact that he slept with the Duchess's sister. You were pretty sure she was dead, but didn't know if Geralt had a hand in that or not. "Are you joking?"

"I don't kiss and tell." Geralt winked at you but remained silent. Frowning you tried to think of a way to get him to talk, but knew that once he set his mind to it, there wasn't much you could do to change it.

"Fine. Keep your secrets." You mock pouted, turning back to the road ahead. The palace and the sprawling city across the river from it had come into view, and it took your breath away with its beauty.

"Like nothing up North, isn't it?" Geralt commented, watching you take in the fairytale-esque scene in front of you. The towering palace with its spires and arching bridges. Tall trees and rooftop gardens painted the scene with every shade of green. The lake shone like a fiery sapphire as the sunlight reflected on its smooth surface.

"Definitely not." You couldn't tear your eyes from it as you continued to ride towards it. You didn't remember making the decision to kick your horse into a gallop, but sound the wind was whipping through your loose hair, pulling it behind you as you raced toward the city. Geralt kept pace with you, smiling as the joy inside you bubbled into laughter at the freedom you felt in that moment.

At the city gates, you slowed your horses. Unlike in Novigrad, the guards at the gate were mostly there to keep the peace. No one was checking papers, or questioning anyone about whether they were magical or not. Everyone was free to roam in and out of the city as they wished. The atmosphere was completely different than what you were used to, and you felt almost giddy about it.

As you rode through town, your head was constantly swiveling to take in the sights and sounds of the lively city. Artists advertised their skills and their work outside brightly lit shops. Bakers were rushing to keep up with the demand for their pastries. Florists boasted about the colours of their most recent blooms, ready to steal the hearts of those who received them. Fresh fish was brought in from the river, the catch of the day being shouted to draw in more customers. There were few street walkers and even fewer homeless people. The cobble streets were wide and clean, nothing like what you were used to in Velen.

Geralt watched you with an amused look, indulging you when you wanted to stop to watch a street performer either sing or dance. He handed you coins to give to them when the performance was finished as you clapped loudly. Your heart sang out in happiness that he was showing you this part of his world and his life. You could see yourself easily settling in at Corvo Bianco, making wine, traveling to the city when you wanted to take in some art and culture. You found yourself wondering if Geralt would ever retire from the Path, and settle down here for good. But you shooed that dark cloud away before it could rain on the brightness of your day. You didn't know what the Duchess wanted, and that was as much darkness as you wanted right now.

#geralt x reader #geralt x ofc #geralt of rivia fanfic #geralt fanfic #witcher fanfic #witcher fanfiction #henry cavill fanfiction

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unicyclehippo · 5 years ago

Note

In the last Talks, Laura said she hadn't checked in about the Gentleman and his people trafficking deal, if he was still doing it. What if Beau figured out he was doing it still and confronted him so he wouldn't disappoint Jester?

the gentleman is entertaining at his table when the drifting waiter makes their way over with a new glass of wine and a brief, whispered word into his ear. the gentleman arches a brow at whatever is said, drags a thoughtful finger over his goatee.

[[MORE]]

‘gentlemen,’ he interrupts the conversation with the word, smiles winning around at his amassed guests. ‘if you’d excuse me for a moment?’

‘they might, aye, but what about the ladies?’ the dwarven lady—impressively muscled, impressively bearded—tosses a wink his way and smiles a toothy smile. ‘ah’m only kiddin’. we want ye to scarper—yer the only one we cannae take for all he’s worth.’

the gentleman laughs, quite genuinely. he stands, spreads his hands in a warm, welcoming fashion. ‘guests, i shall return shortly. until then—drink, dine...and gentlemen—do lose well.’

the sound of laughter follows him up the stone staircase that wraps around to the second storey of his den. it isn’t until he steps into his study that he allows his smile to fall away and the invisible form of his informant reveals themself, stepping up to his side.

‘through here? how did they—teleportation?’

‘doesn’t look like it. looks like they came through the tunnels.’

‘one of ours, then, to know the way in.’

‘not...exactly.’ under the gentleman’s stare, dunn continues. ‘a known entity, yes. but she’s a monk.’

‘of the reserve?’

‘yessir.’

jester’s friend, he thinks but doesn’t say. of all his close agents, dunn is the most level-headed, but the gentleman is not in the habit of pointing a knife at someone he doesn’t wish to be killed.

they make their way quickly through the tunnels to the gentleman’s quarters. his real quarters, not the false office he keeps by the bar. the door opens silently, hinges kept well oiled, and the gentleman’s gaze slips past the shelves of blood in their phials, past stacks of curious items, past several towers of gold and platinum, past the desk and chest of his most useful correspondence, to the familiar monk who stands in the centre of his trapped floor, unharmed.

‘thank you, dunn. i can take it from here.’

the hesitation is apparent to the gentleman and to the monk, who looks between them, no doubt looking for some kind of clue as to their relationship, dunn’s standing within his empire.

‘yessir,’ dunn says, and turns neatly on their heel.

the door closes behind, and babanon dusal—who wears the name so rarely it has begun to feel more like the mask than that of the gentleman—steps carefully from the entrance to his desk. he leans against it, folds his arms.

the monk doesn’t even follow his movement, not even when his stopping at the desk puts him out of her peripherals.

‘you had best have something very important to tell me,’ he warns silkily after a moment to let her sweat. ‘or else i may take this as some kind of...threat.’

‘you’re supposed to.’

‘beg your pardon?’

the monk��beauregard lionett, of the lionett family, kamordah, first child of thoreau lionett, the originator of the vineyard and brand—takes something from her pocket. a small phial. red inside. she throws it down to the floor, watches as it shatters with a crash and smear of red across the flagstones.

‘i said,’ she tells him, voice mild, ‘this is supposed to be a threat.’

‘fascinating way to go about it. trapped in there. destroying my belongings.’

‘the blood is jester’s,’ she corrects, and turns so very slowly that the trap doesn’t activate.

babanon feels a stirring of unease, glancing down at the red stain, the glass fragments.

‘i kinda have some father issues i’m working out at the moment,’ beau continues, mouth stretched in a grin that almost encourages him to laugh along. it doesn’t meet her eyes. those are flat and bitterly cold. ‘but i’m not quite done with that, so trust me when i say i’m fully invested in kicking your ass if it comes to that. he’s got ego too. i reckon it’d be cathartic.’

‘as terribly intrigued as i am to hear about your family drama, i’m far more interested in hearing how you found your way here.’

she shakes her head. ‘you think you’re all that. you’re nothing special. you’re the head at the top of a whole lotta worker bees and some are better at covering their tracks than others.’

‘for example?’

‘two in particular. a young human guy called suck my dick, and a half-elf lady called you piece of shit.’

‘ah. must be new hires.’

her eyes flash. a muscle that runs up the side of her cheek and temple jumps as she clenches her jaw tight; after a moment, a slow breath curls out from her mouth.

‘think of it as a threat, if you want. i think it’s a threat too. some of us would call it a warning, if they knew i was here.’

‘they don’t?’ it would be far easier to get rid of her if no one knew she was here.

beau must be able to read the thought on his face, or else her line of logic goes in much the same way as his own, because she says, ‘i wouldn’t try shit, if i were you. they might not know where i am but they’re expecting me back. and jester can get scry-happy when she’s worried so any minute now she’ll see where i am—and who i am with,’ she adds, and moves so very quickly that the trap that explodes behind her doesnt manage to catch her in the blast. she is at his throat—ignoring the prick of his poisoned blade at her gut—before he can blink, strong fingers pressed at some very sensitive points that have his own fingers useless, numb, around the hilt of his blade. ‘i don’t want her to see this, just as much as you don’t, because i don’t want her heart to break when she finds out you’re nothing like she thinks. one thing—one thing—she asked of you,’ she hisses. ‘don’t trade in people. something not even the lowest of the fuckin’ low would stoop to.’ she shakes him hard, throws him away from her as the numbing sensation wears off. ‘it hasn’t even been a year and you’ve broken that promise.’

‘the war has ended. profits are—‘

‘more important than your daughter?’

babanon remains stubbornly silent. he has worked to build this group up from dregs—and yet, despite all the work and the sacrifices, he cannot deny the connection. his own weakness.

‘what do you want? i presume since the traps did nothing, you have enough to have me arrested seven times over.’

beau fixes him with that cold stare. she makes a good partner to his daughter—he hadn’t missed the way she described her rebuke, all shards of blue ice.

‘i don’t give a fuck about you or your crime empire. i’m not here to arrest you.’

‘then why?’

‘i want the second phial. of jester’s blood.’

‘i don’t know what you—‘ a bladed item of some kind bites into the soft of his shoulder, thrown so fast the monk’s movement was nothing but a blur.

he throws his dagger and she steps out of its path, flings the other star of metal.

‘we each gave two phials,’ she says cajolingly, not the slightest bit winded or concerned by the rivulets of red that drip down each of his arms, down his hands, to drip drip drip upon the stone. she holds up a hand, wriggles two such phials toward him. ‘see? both of nott’s.’ these, too, she sends flying into the wall to crash. it won’t be long until the blood turns brown and dry and would be useless to anyone trying to use the samples. ‘but i found only one for jester. give me the second.’

babanon stares her down. considers his option. ‘what do i get?’

she favours him with a withering stare, one that makes it clear how very stupid she thinks he is being.

‘i won’t tell her what you’ve done. what you’ve agreed to. end the deal, denounce it. she never has to know.’

‘i—‘

‘they stole her,’ beau snarls. ‘kidnapped her. locked her up and killed her friend. slavers! how can you keep working with them?’

he bows his head very slightly. won’t meet her eyes as he lifts his hand to the silver chain around his neck, the small phial of red hanging from it.

‘end it. give me that blood. and fuckin’—‘ she hesitates and then presses on. ‘you need to actually earn her time—don’t just listen to her and send her off to have a drink. talk to her. be a dad for fuck’s sake.’

#cr tag #tagging my stories #prompt fill #very tired sorry i hope this is good

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ma-gic-gay · 4 years ago

Note

So this is a new one of these and the other one is probably over so yeah

It's a weird Christmas.

It marks a year since anyone last saw Sonny, a year since Julian's death, and a year full of drama, as one would expect.

Michael and Willow had had another child, a girl this time. Her name was Ophelia and Wiley loved being a big brother to her. The pair had also burned their annulment papers when they'd realized she was pregnant and finally admitted their feelings for each other. Watching them together had probably been the highlight of the year for their family.

Sam had started hooking up with Dante much to the chagrin of, well, everyone. It had started as a few random hookups but changed quickly into an actual relationship, testing several familial bonds.

Luckily, that disaster on wheels had been halted when Lulu had woken up from her coma. Lulu and Dante got back together and fell in love, again.

Sasha and Brando had formed a relationship as well, which was quite a surprise at first glance but made sense after a few weeks.

"Carly? You okay?" Jason asks. Surprisingly enough, she hadn't completely broke down yet, or ran away. The furthest she'd ran was the island and even then, it was only a few hours no one knew where she was, since he couldn't teleport and it took that long to get to the island.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking," she responds, faking a smile.

"Tell that to the tears in your eyes and obviously fake smile," he says to her. "What are you thinking about?"

"It's been a year since any of us have heard from Sonny. For all we know, he's dead. Hell, he probably is. I know I should give up and just agree to a funeral, but it feels wrong to do that without a body," Carly sighs, head in her hands in an effort to hide her tears. "It feels wrong for him to not be here. Last Christmas, we were convinced he'd be home by now and now it's like we've all resigned ourselves to him being dead."

"If it doesn't feel right to have a funeral, don't have one. I've known you for a long time, and your instincts are right a lot of the time. Just because Sonny's not confirmed dead doesn't mean he's not," Jason frowns, putting his arm around her and rubbing circles along her back.

Sonny's "death" meant he had to step up in more ways than one. This had marked the year of Jason running the mob, which he'd practically been doing before but was actually doing now. He'd also had to become sort of a surrogate husband to Carly to the point he practically lives there by now. The kids hadn't questioned it; they'd asked a few times if there was anything going on there but after getting a firm no there hadn't been anything else from them in forms of questioning their relationship status. It was what it was and that was the same friendship they'd always had.

There had been times even Danny had questioned why they were at that house so much, to the point he once asked Carly if they were together or not.

You know it's reaching an odd point when a twelve year old is asking if you're in love with your best friend.

Of course, they didn't take into consideration the fact the whole town thought they were together. Again. Everyone had assumed, based off of how much time they'd been spending together- surprisingly more than normal- and the fact that he'd all but moved into the house that they were together.

That was a fun one to realize when he'd gotten shot and everyone had assured her that her boyfriend would be fine.

It just wasn't happening, they were friends. Anything more could complicate it and complicated almost always meant that there would be fights they couldn't go to each other to uncomplicate.

"I know that, but I just don't want to live knowing that there's a chance he could be alive somewhere and he's been kidnapped or forgotten his name or something. It's like I'm stuck in this neverending circle where there's barely any hope but I can't pretend there's none either. Sometimes, I wish that the police would show up with a body and I would have to confirm that yes, he is dead, just so that I could get out of this loop," Carly sobs. "And then I feel terrible for wishing he was dead because I love him, you know, but then at the same time, I can't help but feel like I need closure."

"That's not a bad thing, to need closure. None of us get any closure when it comes to this, Carly. You're not a bad person for wanting some," he reminds her. "You've been grieving for a year a man you don't even know for sure is dead. It doesn't make you bad to want to have something definite."

"But wanting my husband dead? That's dark," she argues with him.

"You want to know if he's dead or alive, something to confirm what's happened to him. I hate to break it to you but you don't qualify as a terrible person," Jason chuckles. "You've never killed someone, never hurt a kid."

"I shot a dude in open court, I almost killed AJ. I've done a lot of questionable things in my life, Jason," Carly fights back.

She's not wrong, persay, but she's not right. "That stuff doesn't make you a bad person. Morally grey? Yes. Bad? No. You do what you think is best and you're impulsive. If something's not going your way, you'll tip the scales. It's just how you are. None of that makes you a bad person. Some people might not like it, but you've never killed someone or hurt a kid, so in my book you're a good person."

Carly's head comes out of her hands for a minute and he smiles, wiping away the tears. "Well you're not a bad person either. You'd never hurt a kid and you only kill in self defense or if the person's really bad and threatening someone you care about. It's not like you wake up and go kill someone for shits and giggles. You mourn the people you kill and feel bad about it. Only a purely horrible person wouldn't feel bad about their murders."

"Neither of us are bad people, let's just agree on that at least."

"Fine," she relents finally. That only took a year. "I miss Sonny. Especially this time of year. Last year, he read Donna and Avery the Grinch and he had the world's worst Grinch voice. I practically begged him to read another book because of how bad it was. But this year, I wish he would be able to read it to them."

"I miss him too," Jason admits. "It's been a hell of a year without him."

"That it has. So much has changed," she agrees with him, shifting her position on the couch so she's lying her head on his lap.

That's probably why the kids thought they were dating.

He plays with her hair as she laughs, remembering some obscure detail about his telling of the Grinch and decorating for Christmas.

Scratch that, this is definitely why everyone thinks they're together.

"Hey Mom, Jason," Joss greets them, coming in from the kitchen. "I'm going to Trina's. Donna's with Ophelia at the Quartermaine's and Avery's with Ava."

"Alright sweetie, have fun," Carly bids her daughter goodbye, sighing. "Why is she so adult now? I mean, I can remember when she was born and it feels like yesterday. Hell, Michael's birth feels like yesterday. And they're both so grown up."

"Time flies when you're having fun," he answers.

"Where'd you get that? A throw pillow or some advice of my mother's?"

"A card someone sent me back when I was in the hospital. Needless to say, that card got tossed in the trash as soon as you'd let me stand up to go to the trash."

"Who the hell sent that to you of all people?"

"No clue. It didn't have a name attached."

"Huh. Well, it's a terrible expression. Too throw pillow. The real answer would be that we're aging, sadly," Carly sighs again, equally as dramatic. "Granted, I still look like I'm 27, but somehow I've aged."

"Age is but a number."

"You sound like a Hallmark card."

"Rude."

"You do!"

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm aging as well. You're not in this whole getting old thing alone. Provided, of course, that you agree to age," he smirks.

"I don't have anything better to do, sadly, so I suppose I'll agree to getting older. But I refuse to have a gray hair."

"Then go to the salon when you notice one and dye your hair."

"I plan on it," the blonde smiles at him before changing the topic. "Do you think we're weird?"

"That came out of nowhere."

"Answer the question."

"No?"

"That sounded like a question."

"Carly, how am I supposed to answer this one? I don't know, maybe?" Jason says, though most of it comes out as a question.

"Well, I mean, think of it. Sonny's been presumed dead for a year. You've been in charge of the business and been there for all of us in more ways than I can count. Seriously, I think Donna sees you as a father," Carly chuckles. "And you've listened to me crying and losing it. Hell, you spent a month and a half at the island just so I wouldn't be alone."

"Hey, you're family. I was happy to do all of those things. Besides, you wouldn't leave my side when I got shot. Or for a very long month after that," he jokes.

"I know but you didn't have to do that. You didn't have to step up and parent the kids. You already had Danny and Scout and the breakup with Sam to deal with, that's a lot at once. Not to mention, taking over the business and grieving Sonny. And dealing with me. All at the same time," she smiles. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful, but you had no obligation to do any of that."

"Carly, do you think I'd be here right now if I didn't want to? You know me better than that. I love you and the kids and want to be there for all of you. So far, I've only gotten shot once and that was unrelated, so I'd consider this a pretty good experience."

The blonde scoffs at him and he chuckles. "Not funny. You could've died."

Rolling his eyes, he reminds her, "I didn't."

"Well you're not allowed to get shot for a long time."

"I'll take getting shot off of my to do list."

"Don't you dare joke about this!"

"Alright. Look at me. I'm not going to die anytime soon. I promise. It takes a lot more than a measly bullet to kill me, after all. Not even Russian madmen could do it," he says seriously.

"Good. Because if you do that to me again, I'll have no choice but to resign myself to a life in either prison or Ferncliff," she says half seriously, getting a laugh out of Jason.

It's not entirely unrealistic she'd end up in one of those positions, especially given that it's already happened. Repeatedly.

Maybe there's a sign she should stop doing dangerous things.

Almost as though she's being told to by something inside her, Carly connects her lips with his.

to be continued

why do i get myself into these things smh

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nowplayingblog-main · 6 years ago

Text

Guns Don’t Kill People

read on AO3

Written for @irondadbingo

Tony woke up to a bright light in his eyes, surrounded by darkness. He had heard about the light at the end of the tunnel just before you died, but he somehow felt that if he was dead, or even dying, that he shouldn't be in this much pain. Even if the last thing he remembered was his own missile blowing up in his face.

He turned his head, and the room he was in came into focus. Or maybe “room” was too kind of a term. The walls were rough, uneven, wet rock, and the furniture that made up the area was thrown together, rickety and dirty. In the center of the room was a steel beam that Tony hoped to God wasn't holding up the place. At the other end of the room there was a sketchy looking bunk bed, with a boy - maybe in his then years - laying lopsidedly on the top bunk, staring lazily at the ceiling, as though he we're on drugs.

Turning his attention away from the room, Tony felt around his face, feeling a tube coming out from his right nostril. In a moment that was probably not his best moment of judgment, Tony pulled on the tube, which caused a burning sensation in his nose, and triggered his gag reflex as the tube brushed past the back of his throat. He stopped, but that felt even worse. Tony continued to pull out what he now realized was a feeding tube until it was completely out - gagging the entire time.

He threw the offensive tube across the room, and sat up in his cot, trying to move away to walk around the room, get a better sense of his surroundings, but he was stopped by a tugging sensation in his chest, which sparked extreme, crippling pain that Tony hadn't been fully aware of. Tony looked down at the stained bandages underneath his shirt. From underneath those bandages there were cables that led to a car battery at the side of the cot he was once lying on. He wrapped his hand around the cords, ready to tug.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.” The boy on the bunk said tiredly, as though he were half asleep. Tony looked up and saw that the boy was staring at him, his pupils dilated. He looked as though he wasn't truly there.

He turned his attention back to his bandaged chest. The pain underneath them had become unbearable. He tore away the bandages to reveal a monstrosity - a hunk of metal in his chest, surrounded by red, irritated skin.

Tony fainted.

The next time Tony woke up, the kid was cooking something over a fire, which was shabbily built near the center of the room. The kid seemed less delirious than he had been earlier, but there were moments when his hands paused, or he would catch himself leaning too far to one side.

He sat up, and the tugging at his chest reminded of the presence of the metallic monstrosity in his chest.

Tony looked up at the kid. “What did you do to me?”

The kid met his eyes, and Tony could see his pupils were still slightly smaller than normal, especially for someone sitting in a dark, cave like room.

“I didn't do anything to you,” he had an American accent, which surprised Tony, and his words were slurred. “I'm not a doctor. But I did give them the idea. It's an electromagnet. You were hit with a lot of shrapnel, and it was going to pierce your heart. They got out as much as they could, and whatever was left in there is being stopped by that magnet.”

“I'm sorry, are you high right now?” Tony asked brashly.

The kid went cross-eyed for a moment, and leaned a little too far to the left, catching himself before he could actually fall over. He looked sheepishly back up at Tony. “It's not my choice.”

Before Tony could ask what he meant by that, there was a pounding at the door, strains of Arabic filtering through.

The kid stumbled to his feet, placing his hands behind his head, “Get up.”

Tony remained seated, eyes trained on the door.

“What are you, crazy? Get up! Do as I do!”

Tony stood up, placing his hands behind his head, mimicking the boy, just as the armed terrorists barged through the door.

There were seven or eight men, each armed with what Tony recognized as Stark Industries issued weapons. Then, another man walked through. Clearly the leader.

He walked up to the kid first, speaking in Arabic. Tony couldn't understand a word he was saying, but he spoke with a praising tone of voice, but in a somewhat condescending tone.

After a while, the man turned to Tony, continuing to speak in Arabic.

“He says welcome, Tony Stark, the greatest mass murderer in the history of America.” The kid translated, which stunned Tony for a moment. “He is honored.”

The terrorist leader cut him off continuing to speak in his foreign tongue.

“He says he wants you to build him a missile - the Jericho missile, which you were demonstrating earlier.”

The man pulled out a black and white printed picture of the Jericho.

“That one,” the kid supplied, somewhat needlessly.

Tony looked up at the man, eyeing the armed men behind him.

“I refuse”

The torture that followed would haunt Tony for the rest of his life.

The next day, Tony was being led outside. It was blindingly bright, but when his eyes focused, he saw several of his weapons, as well as assorted parts and pieces from what Tony guessed were cars and explosives.

The kid was there. He was being restrained my a much larger man, his arms pinned behind his back. He had guns trained at his head at all times. The poor kid seemed to be taking this all in stride, as though he was used to it.

The leader was speaking again, and Tony looked to the kid for a translation, feeling bad about the position they were in.

“He says, what do you think?”

Tony grimaced. “I think he has a lot of my weapons.”

The leader spoke again. The kid translated. “As you can see, they have everything you need to build the Jericho. You will write a list of materials, and get to work right away. When you're done they will set you free.”

Tony glanced around at the armed men around him. Some of them stood on top of the rocky peaks. One of them stood out among the rest, and Tony suspected he was the leader of all of them, even the guy he was talking to right now.

He held his hand out and shook it with his captor.

“No he won't.” Tony said, mostly to the kid.

“No. He won't.” The kid agreed.

That night, Tony was laying on the bottom of the rickety bunk bed. He thanked his lucky stars that the kid appeared to weigh no more than a feather - any heavier may have caused the whole thing to capsize.

The kid was more alert now than Tony had ever seen him. He was sitting upright on the bunk. And Tony could tell by his positioning that he was staring at the door.

“You got a name, kid?”

“Peter,” he said softly, his voice wavering, but it wasn't slurred.

Tony hummed in acknowledgement. “I'd introduce myself, but -”

“I know who you are.”

Tony nodded silently.

“It's scary isn't it?” Peter said. “How many weapons they have. How many parts.”

“Yeah,” Tony said softly, “they weren't supposed to be the ones who had them.”

“Have you ever heard the saying, 'guns don't kill people, people do’?”

“Yeah, what's your point, kid?”

“You make the guns,” Peter explained, “and once they're out there, you can give them to the people you want to have them, you can guard them, but somehow, some way, they're going to end up in the hands of the people you don't want to have them. And the guns don't know any better. They won't just stop working. They just do as they're told.” He took a breath.

“I don't quite understand what you're trying to tell me,” Tony said passively.

“That's okay. Maybe someday you will.”

There was pounding at the door.

“What's going on?” Tony demanded. Standing up and putting his hands behind his head. “They said they wouldn't come until tomorrow.”

“They're not coming for you,” the kid assured him, climbing off the top bunk.

The armed men crowded into the room, and grabbed Peter by his arms, pinning them behind his back, tying them too tightly with thick, dirty rope. Those who weren't busy tying the poor kid up had their guns aimed at his head.

“Woah, woah!” Tony exclaimed, “What's your deal, what are you doing to him?!”

A few of the gunman swiveled toward him when he spoke, turning their guns on him

“It's fine Mr. Stark,” Peter assured him. “They have you here to build weapons. I'm here for the same reason.”

Tony had no idea what that meant, but just as soon as the had entered, the terrorists left the cave, locking the door behind them. Tony was alone.

Tony had managed at get a couple of hours of sleep between his tossing and turning, the pain in his chest, and his worry about a teen-aged stranger keeping him awake.

When the sun had finally started to shine through the small, thin window near the ceiling, the door finally opened again. Tony stood up, placing his hands behind his head like the kid taught him, and once again armed men came into their room, Peter hanging limply from where they held him by his arms. They dumped him onto the ground, and promptly left.

The poor kid was covered with his own blood, which oozed sluggishly from small cuts littering his body. The back of his right hand was bruised, and displayed a puncture wound above his vein. His arms were covered in puncture wounds, really.

His breathing was ragged, and Tony knew that being thrown into his stomach wasn't doing him any favors. He slowly moved toward the kid, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you with me, Peter?” He asked gently.

The kid groaned, the sound trailing off into a whimper.

“I'm gonna move you to the bed, okay? It's probably not a good idea for you to stay on the floor like this.

“M'fine,” Peter insisted, his words slurred so severely it took Tony a money to realize he was speaking.

“No, you really aren't.”

“M'Okay...really...I've...done this....'fore” the kid turned his head weakly to one side, his eyelids only half open.

“C'mon kid,” Tony insisted, hoisting him from underneath his armpits. “Up you go.”

Peter whimpered and whined as Tony staggered over to the bed. It wasn't hard to carry him, the kid was pretty light, but Tony had an awkward hold on him due to his own gaping injury in his chest, and he had to stop every so often to go back and shift his car battery so that he wouldn't get disconnected.

Once the kid was on the bed, Tony could tell he was pretty out of it, not to mention exhausted.

“Why are they doing this to you, kid?” Tony tried to ask, “What do they want from you.”

Peter's reply was too slurred for Tony to discern. He lifted one of the kids eyelids and saw that his pupils were blown.

“They're keeping you on pretty heavy drugs, aren't they?” Tony removed his hand from the boys face, resolving to wait to ask him in the morning.

“From what I can tell they're trying to create some kind of super soldier serum,” Peter told him the next time Tony asked. He was sitting up in the bunk, since Tony wanted him to rest, even though Peter insisted this wasn't the first time this had happened. “They have some kind of notes from way back in the 40s or something -”

“Steve Rogers,” Tony realized. “Captain America.”

“Well, it didn't work at first,” the kid said. “They injected me with something, but it didn't do much - nothing bad, but nothing good either, at least for them. I kept feeling dizzy, and passing out. Then they got these new notes, a whole lot more modern. From what I can tell, they're coming from some company in America. They only started recently.

“They injected me with this new serum. It was crazy. Right after they injected it, it was like my senses we're going haywire. It was so bright, and loud, and everything I felt was so intense and uncomfortable. They thought it was a fluke at first, but when I woke up the next morning it was like everything evened out. It was still intense, but I'd adjusted. And I was stronger. Way stronger. I fought back, and I almost escaped. Now they keep me on the drugs to make sure I don't try anything. I also think my metabolism increased, because they started giving me less food, to keep my strength low.”

Tony listened to the kid as he cooked they're extremely low rations over the open fire. “so they want me to build them weapons, and they want you to become their weapon.”

“Sort of,” Peter shrugged, “I get the feeling I'm just their guinea pig. They're just using me to perfect their formula, before they give it to their more willing soldiers.”

“How did they get ahold of you?”

“I was visiting with my parents on a business trip. They're geneticists, and they were here doing research,” Peter's eyes glazed over, “They shot at the car, broke the windows. My father was killed in the driver's seat, and my mother was shot a moment later. I kept waiting. Waiting to die. When they broke into the car I thought they were going to kill me. But instead they just knocked me out and I woke back up here.”

Peter looked up at him with apologetic eyes. “They had your weapons, Mr. Stark.”

Tony focused on the kids dirty, worn down sneakers, sitting beside the bunk, not willing to meet the kids eyes. “I'm sorry.”

“It wasn't your fault.”

“I made the weapons,” Tony insisted.

“It's not like that,” Peter countered.

Tony decided to change the subject. “And what are they gonna do to you when they're done?”

Peter looked him in the eye. “Kill me, I would think.”

Tony met his gaze. “I won't let that happen.”

“Why?” The kid asked. “You hardly know me. Besides, you've got your own life at stake.”

“I don't have to know you,” Tony said. “You're a kid. You have so much more to live for than just this. You deserve a chance to live.”

“Mr. Stark, with all due respect, I don't have any reason to stay alive, my parents are dead. There's nothing left for me. Do you even have a plan to get out of here?”

Tony looked up, eyeballing one of the camera he had noticed we're stationed around the room.

“We'll see.”

Later that day, the cave was crowded with people carrying things inside. Tony was barking orders, Peter standing close by translating as fast as he could.

Soon the workspace was set up to. Tony's liking, well lit and equipped with everything he needed. There once open and large room was suddenly full of Stark Industries weapons and mechanics.

Once everyone had filed out of the cave, Tony began to work, sketching out blueprints for his big project - as well as a smaller one, one he would need to start working on as soon as possible. Glancing over, he caught Peter staring at the Stark Industries logo on one of the missiles. He looked like he wasn't really there.

“Kid,” Tony called, causing Peter to jump, snapping out of his reverie “Come make yourself useful.”

Peter cautiously came over toward him. Tony picked up a long tube - a missile. The kid stopped walking.

“Relax, they took out the explosives before they gave them to me. They're crazy, but not stupid. Now watch.”

Tony very meticulously and carefully broke apart the missile extracting what he needed. Until finally he pulled out a small piece metal with his tweezers.

“Okay, we don't need this,” Tony threw scrap pieces over his shoulder.

“What's that?” The kid asked.

“Palladium,” Tony said. “About .15 grams of it. I need at least 1.6, so why don't you start breaking down the other eleven.”

The kid was actually a very good helper. When he wasn't drugged up to his eyeballs he had remarkably steady hands, and he clearly knew how to break stuff apart the right way.

“I used to do this all the time, back at home,” Peter had explained. “I would get old broken computers from the thrift store, break them down and rewire them. I made some pretty cool stuff, or at least I liked to think so.”

Tony had waited for moment when Peter was more aware to have him heat up the palladium in the crucible and pour it into the sand mold Tony had constructed. Tony couldn't do it himself, since he had to hold onto his car battery.

“Careful,” he warned. “We only got one shot at this.”

“If you stop psyching me out,” the kid countered, “I might be more steady.”

Despite their banter, Peter had successfully poured it into the mold, and the next morning Tony pulled out a freshly made ring of palladium. By that point the poor kid had returned from one of his torture sessions and was the equivalent of a vegetable lying on their bunk.

Tony got to work, installing all the pieces, soldering and wiring, until his finished product whirred to life, glowing a faint blue in front of him.

Peter materialized over his shoulder, and it was at that point Tony noticed how much time had gone by.

“What's that?” The kid spoke in an awed whisper.

“It's a miniature ARC reactor. I've got a bigger one at home, powering my workshop.” Tony explained. “This one will keep the shrapnel out of my heart.”

“What does it generate?”

“If my math is correct - and it always is - about three gigajoules per second. Enough to power my heart for 50 lifetimes.” Tony turned and made eye contact with Peter. “Or something big for 15 minutes.”

The kid looked at him with wary eyes. “What are you planning?”

Tony stood up, leading the kid over to his blueprints, flattening them out to show him his other project - his much bigger project.

“Woah,” the kid breathed.

Tony wasn't sure how much time had passed before he was almost completely done with his project. He had about a week of work left to do, when once again there was a pounding on the door.

He and the kid exchanged nervous glances. It wasn't anywhere near time for Peter to be taken away again. They stood, hands behind their heads.

Man flooded the room, all armed with guns - no surprise. What was different this time was that the old leader, the one Tony had grown used to seeing, wasn’t there. Instead, another man took charge, a man Tony remembered from his one trip to the outside world since being imprisoned here.

“Relax,” The man said.

Tony and Peter tentatively let their hands fall to their sides. The man circled them, and began examining Tony’s blueprints. Tony’s heart leapt in fear. He doubted than man would be able to piece together what he was making, but still, it set him on edge.

“The bow and arrow was once the pinnacle of weapons technology. It allowed the great Genghis Khan to rule from the Pacific to the Ukraine,” The man gave up trying to make sense of the blueprints. “Today, whoever has the latest Stark weapons rules these lands. Soon it will be my turn...”

The man turned to Peter, and started having a conversation with him, no longer talking in English, so Tony couldn’t follow along. Suddenly, Peter was forced to his knees, and his head was shoved down onto an anvil. Tony’s heart raced, unsure what to do. He didn’t want to let the kid get hurt, but he knew trying to help him might make things worse. The man picked up a set of Tony’s tongs, using them to remove a hot coal from the fire, and started maneuvering it towards the kids head, still shouting at Peter in a foreign tongue.

“What do you want, a delivery date?” Tony asked stepping forward to try and help the kid against his better judgment. The armed men quickly trained their guns on him, shouting words of warning, on Tony stopped, raising his hands in surrender. He looked around, trying to think of something that might help them. He looked to the man who was still holding the hot coal with his tongs, too close to the kid’s face for comfort.

“I need him,” Tony insisted. “He’s a good assistant.”

The air was still and tense. The room became so silent that Tony could hear Peter trying to take deep, calming breaths. Finally the man dropped the burning coal, signaling to his men to let Peter go.

“You have until tomorrow,” He warned, “to build my missile.”

Then they left.

Thankfully, the kid wasn’t dragged away for experiments again, which let them work more efficiently on the suit throughout the night. What would have taken a week was now being done in one night.

“What did they want?” Tony asked while hammering at the metal chest plate to give it shape.

“They’re onto you,” Peter warned, working on the wires and electrical work. “They kept asking what you were really building. I told them that you were working very hard on the Jericho, but it was very complex.”

“We need to get this done before sunrise,” Tony decided. “Otherwise they’ll come too soon and we won’t have a chance.”

By the time the light behind their small window had begun to turn orange like the morning, Peter was helping Tony into his suit, and they waited for the data from a small, old computer to load so that they could power it up.

“Say it again,” Peter prompted.

“41 steps straight ahead, 16 steps from the door, fork right, 33 steps, turn right,” Tony rattled off.

Peter took a shaky breath and nodded.

“Hey,” Tony said, trying to sound as calm as possible, “It’s gonna be fine.”

Peter nodded again. “Say it again.”

Tony knew it at this point, but he repeated it so that Peter could feel better.

“Almost at 100%,” Peter reported.

“Okay, remember than plan, kid. Stick to the plan. Remember your checkpoints, and make sure everything is clear before you follow me, okay?” Tony looked Peter dead in the eye, and the kid gave him another shaky nod. “It’ll be fine, It’ll -”

There was banging at the door. Peter gave a shaky gasp looking fearfully at the door. There was shouting.

“Say something to them,” Tony prompted.

“They’re speaking Hungarian,” Peter said. “I don’t know how to speak Hungarian.”

“Speak Hungarian,” Tony pressed, “Just say something in Hungarian.”

The kid’s eyes were wide with terror, and he loudly called out a couple of wavering words. It didn’t appear to work however, because the door was opened.

There was a loud ban, and both Peter and Tony felt the wave of the explosion that had been a trap that they had set on the door. It was supposed to be how they got out of here, but it was too soon.

“Okay, times up kid, we gotta go.” Tony moved to disconnect his suit.

“No!” Peter shouted, “You need more time -”

“Kid, we don’t got time, we need to make our move, now!”

“You stay here and wait for it to power up,” Peter said. “I can buy you a couple of minutes.”

Then, the kid ran to one of the bodies of the men who had been at the door, picking up one of their guns, then he ran out the door.

“Kid!” Tony yelled. “Kid! Stick to the plan! Stop!”

After several agonizing minutes of waiting, the loading bar on the computer reached 100%. The lights flickered, before the eventually powered off. Tony disconnected himself from the cables, and maneuvered the suit out of the cave, through the hole where the door had once stood.

Tony found the kid near the mouth of the cave, laying over a pile of sandbags, bleeding and panting. Tony had successfully picked off everyone inside the cave, and seeing that it was safe, he knelt by the kid and raised the helmet.

“Kid, c’mon, we have a plan and we’re gonna stick to it.”

The poor kid moaned in pain, whimpering when Tony rolled him over. He was bleeding profusely from his stomach. Tony could tell he had been shot. Peter let out agonized shot as Tony pulled one of the kid’s hands over the wound.

“Keep pressure on that, okay? I’m gonna deal with those guys out there, then I’m gonna come back, and we’re gonna get out of here okay?”

Peter whimpered. “- hurts, it hurts. Mr. Stark. Please. I don’t wanna die.”

“Shh,” Tony soothed. “You’ll be fine. Just put pressure on that wound and I’ll be back in a few minutes to get you, okay? You’re gonna be fine.”

Peter nodded, pressing down on the wound, he yelled from the pain.

“Shh,” Tony soothed. “I’ll be right back, okay kid?”

He closed the mask and made his way outside.

Just as Tony had killed all of his captors, the suit lost power. He shed the heavy metal and took of the protective extra layers he had worn underneath of it so he wouldn’t get dehydrated too quickly.

He raced back to the kid, much more mobile now that he didn’t have the suit on. Remarkably, Peter had managed to sit up, and the wound underneath his hand was somewhat healed.

“The experiments,” Peter explained. “They didn’t drug me last night, so I’m stronger now, and I can heal quicker.”

“Yeah, but it still isn’t good that there’s still a bullet in there,” Tony said. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

When Rhodey found them with the air force helicopters while they braved the desert, Tony had never been more relieved.

#fanfiction #iron man #spiderman #peter parker #tony stark #irondad #spiderson #irondadbingo

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costperclickadverts-blog · 8 years ago

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