#another one was the shrimps they were about to cook and it was still alive

[eru-iru]

makoto seeing a bug flying near him and he uses ryoji as a shield then tells him to make it go away as far from him as possible he doesn't want to see it or touch it thank you

[clericofshadows]

the revenge of a king

Description: Regis Shepard gets word from an Alliance ally of his about an issue at Liara T'Soni's apartment, that quickly turns into an opportunity to take down the Broker that originally wanted his body... and the asari that gave him to Cerberus in the first place.

AO3 LINK

Paring: Regis Shepard/Kaidan Alenko/Zaeed Massani Part of my Regis Shepard - Lament of Kings series

Word Count: ~20K

Note: This fic is not very Liara friendly, and as such, be aware of that, thank you :)

Regis settled down at his desk with a yawn, rubbing his face and beard.  They were docked on Illium, handling some affairs.  He helped Miranda get her sister to safety, and he could tell that took a load off her shoulders.  He ran a few errands on Illium, getting some information about the galaxy, but pointedly avoiding that fucking office and blocked requests to talk.

T'Soni must know that he knows.  He hopes that she does.

She had no right.  None.

Even if she did indirectly bring you, Zaeed, and Kaidan back together…

He let out a sigh as the doors to his cabin opened, and he smelled the aroma of fresh pasta that immediately made his mouth water.  Shit, he forgot how hungry he was, knee deep in dealing with all the bureaucracy that comes with every single Illium trip.

“The asari know their way around pasta,” Zaeed said as a greeting, placing one takeout box by Regis’s terminal and sitting down on the couch with his own.  “Came as a recommendation from an old friend.  Told her I’ll hunt her down if she wastes my goddamn credits.”

“Well, it smells amazing,” Regis said, thankful for the distraction from his thoughts, hating that she was taking up all his space right now.  “Chicken parm for me?”

“Of course.  Well, their equivalent for it.  Shrimp scampi for myself, but with some asari shellfish replacement.  We’ll see how good it is,” he replied.  “And don’t worry, I got the higher caloric option.  All the fucking fuel you need right there.”

He’s so sweet when he wants to be.  

“Did you get that so I wouldn’t steal your food?”

“Obviously, you selfish asshole,” he chuckled.  “Knew you wouldn’t touch it even with your goddamn biotics if it had seafood on it.”

Regis rolled his eyes and opened the box, getting out the utensils and taking a bite, pointedly ignoring his comment even though he was right.  Zaeed will take his lack of answer as agreement, as always.  The chicken was beautifully fried, the sauce had a lot of flavor, and the pasta was perfectly cooked.  “You better tell your friend that she chose well,” Regis said in between bites.  “Holy shit.”

Zaeed hummed in agreement.  “Whatever this asari shrimp is, it’s incredible.  You’re missing out, babe.”

“No, I’m not.” Regis took another bite.  “God, this tastes damn near like my mother’s recipe.”

Regis still has yet to call her.  Both her and Adrian for that matter.  

He’s afraid.  Afraid of their reaction, of their acceptance of what has been done, of what he has to do to get out of this fucking ship alive.  A part of him knows that they won’t judge–hell, his mother learned her lesson after Torfan–but he can’t shake the fear of losing what little family he has.

“Didn’t know your mother liked to cook,” Zaeed said, his voice piqued with interest.  

Did he meet her at some point? Since he and Kaidan got together in those two years made him wonder.

Knowing Kaidan, he probably did introduce them, if only so she wouldn’t have to find out elsewhere somehow.  No, that’s why he would’ve done it.  If he was being completely honest with himself, Kaidan did it to absolve the guilt of moving on… letting Hannah decide for him what she thought.

Regis got up with his food and joined him on the couch, shutting down his terminal.  “Originally, it was Atlas’s recipe, but he was one of those that wasn’t really specific with instructions, you know?” Zaeed nodded along.  “So Mother took it upon herself to try and recreate it to her and Adrian’s memories of it, and finally nailed it when I was… probably ten or so.”

“You should call her,” he said pointedly, gesturing with his fork speared with shellfish.  “And give her your review.”

Regis didn’t know much of anything about Zaeed’s family, if he even still had a living one.  So it was telling that he, once again, was goading Regis to get off his ass and do something.

“Kicking me in the ass to contact my family again, huh,” Regis said, leaning against him.  “You’re right, as always.”

“It’s a learned skill.  You should look into it.”

Regis glowered at him but accepted his kiss on his cheek anyway.  “Maybe later.  I’m just… not in a good headspace to talk to her right now.”

“Because of her?” Zaeed asked, emphasizing the pronoun.

Regis only nodded, burying himself back into his dinner.  “I’m trying so hard to not let her invade every fucking part of my life, but she… she fucking violated me for her own selfish wants.  And a part of me keeps saying I can’t be mad because of what she gave me.  And us.”

Zaeed wrapped an arm around him.  This wasn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation since he learned about her involvement in his resurrection, and it sure as hell won’t be the last.  “I’ll say this every time.  You have the goddamn right to feel how you do.”

“I know.”

About to dig back into his food, his omnitool pinged with a message from his private server.  He let out a small sound of surprise when he noticed it was from Hackett. 

SH: Clarkson has something for you.  Alenko has patched her into your server.  It sounds like something that we all might want to look into, even if I know you would rather get the hell away from Illium.

Regis raised an eyebrow and pushed away the to-go box with a sigh.  “Looks like we’re not finished with this place yet.”

“Wren’s the… N7 that Hackett uses as his main agent, right?”

Regis nodded, standing up from his terminal.  “Old friend of mine.  She’s a Fury and one hell of a great infiltrator despite her biotics.  She’s been looking into T’Soni, according to Kaidan when we met up.”

“Think this could be the chance to get your fucking revenge?” He asked, his tone light.  Zorya still lingered in his mind.  Zaeed’s impulsiveness, Regis’s moral code… they were good now and arguably better from it.

Revenge didn’t sound so sweet anymore.

Regis shrugged.  “I’m hoping that we can find a way to ensure she can never work in Alliance space ever again at the bare minimum.”  He brought his terminal over to the coffee table and loaded up Wren’s message.

WC: Call me as soon as you can.  I understand that you have a lot going on, but this could be big.

They shared a look.  

RS: I’m free.  Zaeed’s with me.

A moment later, a vid call request came through.  Regis accepted it and Wren appeared on the screen, her violet hair pulled into a messy bun.  She hadn’t changed much since he last saw her, although the scar under her eye was new.  To his surprise, though, she was in Destroyer gear.  Heavier than what she normally went for. “I still can’t believe I’m able to talk to you again,” she said, her face breaking out into a watery smile.  “God, I missed you and your asshole self.”

Regis smiled back.  “Despite everything, I can’t help but be a little glad to be back.  Wren, not sure if you’ve formally met Zaeed, our boyfriend.”

She nodded and waved.  “Only in passing through vid calls like this with Kaidan.  I’m glad to hear that you three have gotten together.  Nice seeing a bit of good in this fucked situation.  Hackett and Kaidan are trying their damndest to get you back as cleanly as possible, but if we can get something directly from her… that may give you what you need to help clear your name without much trouble.”

“Considering how eager she was to try and be in my good graces,” Regis began, side-eyeing Zaeed who scoffed.  “I might be able to get a statement.”

“Good, because I think you’ll want to hear what happened.  T’Soni was nearly the victim of an assassination. She even stuck around in her apartment for a bit and fled,” Wren continued. “Traced her to Baria Frontiers over in the Dracon Trade Center.  I'm tempted to go there myself, or send Nomad after her.  Feels like this is Shadow Broker related. She’s been trying to find leads on him for a while now.”

Seth Nomad.  A Paladin class.  Quiet, stoic guy with an incredible mind for on the fly hacking and intelligence.  His drones were damn near revolutionary.  Regis trusted him with this kind of mission.

Interesting. It appears her sordid past has finally caught up with her.  Angering the Shadow Broker has consequences.  Regis was only partially sorry it failed, if only because she deserved more consequences for her actions than that. “Whatever you think is best, Wren. As always, I trust your judgment.”

“Appreciated.  Then I’ll send Seth after her, and I’ll meet up with you in Illium.”

Regis nodded.  “Obviously, I’ll be bringing Zaeed with me.�� Need me to bring anyone else to take point with me?”

Wren shrugged.  “I’ll let you decide that.  What do you usually do out in the field now?”

“Myself and two others, maybe three.  Rest on hold for backup.  The types of missions I’ve been doing haven’t required a lot of firepower.”  Except maybe Horizon so far, but he wasn’t about to take just anyone there, not when he knew Kaidan was there.

“To echo what you said to me, I trust your judgment.  Meet me at the taxi stand ASAP.  I’ll send you some more details about T’Soni’s apartment and let Hackett know we’re on the case and to reopen her  case file.  Being an associate on the Normandy gave her some basic citizenship in Alliance space, so we're looking to ban her from the cluster if at all possible.”

An intriguing loophole to use.  He didn't see any problems with that interpretation, looking forward to seeing if they could get that result.  Petty, but she had the capability to put an Alliance soldier officially to rest, and she knowingly gave his body for experimentation for something that could've failed. 

Or turned him into something worse. 

“Thanks,” Regis said.  “Zaeed and I will get suited up as soon as possible.  I’ll be bringing our resident Justicar as well.”  At her nod, he continued, “Don’t want to do anything to offend you.”

“The only thing you could do to offend me is to let her go after all this bullshit.  Here’s to hoping we see something to give to the brass.”  Wren ended the call.

Regis shoved some more of his food in his mouth before tossing the container in the trash to be dealt with later.  He motioned for Zaeed to go on ahead as he activated his personal terminal to send a call to the observation deck Samara kept to herself in.

“Samara?” He asked, waiting for a response.

“Yes, Shepard?”  Good, she was in her room.

“I have a personal request.  Can you get suited up and ready to join me and Zaeed?”

“Of course, I will be right there.  May I have a few more details?”

“It involves Liara T’Soni and her apartment here on Ilium.  She was the one that brought my body to Cerberus, and has been hunting down the Shadow Broker to stop his attempts on her life,” Regis explained.

She was silent for a few moments.  “Thank you.  I will get ready to join you both at the airlock.”

Regis acknowledged her and ended the call.

– –

Regis rejoined Zaeed and Samara at the airlock, nodding at both of them.  Zaeed had opted for his Ajax gear–and Regis couldn’t help but eye him appreciatively–while Samara wore her ornate plate armor.  Moreau eyed them from his spot at the helm.

“Moreau, we’ll be heading back down to Ilium.  It’s a personal mission for me, but it involves T’Soni,” he said, watching as he raised an eyebrow.

“You mean that asari we picked up back on the SR-1?  Thought you wanted nothing to do with her,” he replied, narrowing his eyes.  “What’s going on?”

“Cerberus wasn’t the only reason why I’m back.  It was her.”

Moreau blinked and swore a moment later.  “You’re shitting me.  She is the reason why Cerberus got their hands on you?  Are we talking about the same person?  Last I remember she was just a nerdy archaeologist in over her head.”

“I thought so too,” Regis said quietly, but enough for them to hear. “I’m working with an Alliance contact of mine.  If I can get her to confess, it will do a lot to help clear my name.”

A pained expression flashed on his face for a moment, and Regis felt himself soften.  “Yeah, you have my full support on that.  Shit, Shepard, I had no idea.”

“Neither did I, but my uncle, Vikram, was able to get some information they later gave to Kaidan not long after Alchera…” Regis trailed off, waving away Moreau’s wince at the mention of the planet.  “Alliance has been keeping an eye on her ever since, but it wasn’t until that little Omega shoreleave that I was able to connect the dots for them.”

He nodded.  “You need anything, you just let me know.”

“I will, thanks.”  

Zaeed reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly.  Regis kept his grip on his hand until they left the docking bay, Samara’s presence behind them a comfort.

“What an injustice,” she murmured as they weaved through the shopping terminals.  “Did she do it for herself or for the galaxy?”

“I’m not sure if I want to know that answer,” Regis admitted.  “A gift and a fucking curse all the same.”

“You remember… everything, then,” she guessed, and Regis stopped in his tracks to readjust his scarf, feeling the soft fabric and remembering the scarf he wore when he died.

“I do.”

She nodded and they continued on.

Soon enough, they were at the main taxi stand, and Wren had her arms crossed, sitting down at one of the benches, still clothed in her heavy-duty Destroyer gear.  Not his favorite set from his N7 days, opting for his custom Sentinel gear that he later requisitioned for Kaidan and Ashley on the SR-1, but he liked the extra protection and shield generation it gave.

She brightened when she saw them, standing up.  She nodded at Samara.  “I’m Major Wren Clarkson, N7 Fury and a liaison from the Alliance concerning our case on Liara T’Soni.  And an old friend of this guy.” She inclined her head towards him.  

She’s been promoted.  Good.

Samara nodded.  “Justicar Samara.  Pleasure to meet you, Clarkson.”

“Pleasure's all mine.  I see Regis has gathered himself a decent crew, despite it all.”

“That he has,” Zaeed said with a nod.

“And good to see you, Zaeed.  I have the coordinates ready.  Police are already on the scene, but we should be able to get in,” she said, waving her omnitool.  “I heard you obtained your Spectre status back.”

“Anderson granted it back to me,” Regis said.  “But the new Council refused to meet with me.”

“Fucking cowards,” Zaeed muttered.  “You’re the reason why they are even in their positions.”

Regis thought the same, but he didn’t voice it aloud.  He doesn’t regret his decision.

Sovereign was the main target.

“Well, if you’re willing to leverage it, we should be able to get in.  Let’s go.  Nomad’s already on his way to grab T’Soni.”

– –

The apartment complex was typical asari architecture, but it appeared to be expensive to Regis’s amateur eye.  Anything but nondescript.  He noticed police skycars parked around the area, and many asari and turians in basic armor were moving and running around. High security.

They didn’t seem to spare him much of a glance once they reached the entrance.  An asari walked over.  “What is your purpose for being here?”

“Spectre Regis Shepard.  My team and I are investigating the T’Soni apartment,” he announced, activating his omnitool to transfer his credentials.

“I’ll send word to the officers in charge.”  They waved their omnitool.  “Have a good day, Spectre. You aren’t the only one here.  Must be important.”

He hasn’t dealt with other Spectres since Nihilus.  Curious.

“May I ask who?”

“Spectre Tela Vasir.  She's already inside.”

Regis didn’t recognize the name, only noticing that it was asari.  He nodded in acknowledgment and entered the elevator.

It was a quick trip up to the floor that held T’Soni’s apartment, and soon enough, they followed the commotion to a blocked off entrance.  The asari officer at the door waved them in without a second glance.  The apartment was modern, open, with plenty of space.  Too much space for one person, he thought, but maybe her new career in information gave her enough perks to afford such a place in Illium. Officers were scattered around the building, scanning and examining the area.

An asari in blue and silver armor approached, walking down the stairs, her face covered in purple markings.  A Spectre logo sat proudly on the shoulder of her armor.  “It seems like you’ve heard what happened, Commander Shepard. Someone tried to kill your friend.”

It took a lot of will-power to not object to that descriptor, but Regis wasn’t about to reveal too much too soon, just in case.  

She dismissed the officers, waiting for them all to walk out of the apartment before introducing herself.  “Tela Vasir.  Special Tactics and Recon.  But you probably already knew that by now.”

Regis nodded.  “Only by talking to the officers downstairs.  Regis Shepard,” he offered belatedly.  “But you also probably know that by now.”

“That I do.” She smirked.  “One of our most famous operatives.  I feel like I should get my chestplate signed by you.”  

Regis merely raised an eyebrow at that.  “Depending on how you define ‘famous.’”

“A human having the balls to damn the Council… the Council that even granted you our role in the first place.  I don’t know whether to be impressed or spit on your name.” 

Regis couldn’t get a read on Vasir, scanning her face for any tells.  Her voice was carefully neutral, almost a bit playful.  He needed to talk to his squad and get their view on the situation later.  

“I did what I thought was right, same as any other Spectre.”

“I respect that, Shepard.  What brings you here?  Business with your friend?” She asked.

How much to reveal… 

Wren stepped forward to stand beside him.  “Not so much.  Alliance has been looking into her and her role in putting our best operative in the hands of Cerberus.  I’ve been tracking her for some time now.”

“And you are?” Vasir sounded curious.

“Major Wren Clarkson.”  She motioned to her chest plate.  “N7 designation.  This is most likely Shadow Broker related.”

Regis glanced over at her, wondering her motive.  He also noticed an earpiece in her ear.  Must be how she’s keeping in contact with Nomad, recognizing the sleek Alliance model from anywhere.  

“A dangerous enemy to have.  What do you need from me?”

“An overview, if you don’t mind,” Regis said, motioning around the apartment.  “What happened?”

Vasir went into detail, talking about how someone took a shot at T’Soni, pointing at the series of bullet holes in the window.  She stuck around for a few moments after the attack before leaving.  Vasir noticed it must’ve been important.   She had no idea where T’Soni ended up, which was a point in Regis’s favor, keeping that information to himself as she continued on.  No blood, so no signs of any clear struggle.  There was a kinetic barrier in place to keep her safe from the sniper.  

“Clever girl,” she praised.  “Paranoid, but clever.”

Regis didn’t comment on that either, which was an answer in itself by the curious look she gave him.  Instead, he asked, “Did the police investigation turn up anything useful?”

“Just the mess and the bullet holes.  I gave them a gold star for finding the bullet holes.  Think she would’ve left anything for you?”

“She didn’t know I was coming,” Regis said.  “I came here because of Clarkson.  But, I can take a look around and see if there’s anything only I would notice.”

“Go ahead.  The floor is yours.” She stepped aside and nodded at him and his squad.  Wren decided to go her own path, walking away from them and looking at the bullet holes.  

Regis turned the corner to check out a desk tucked up against a wall lined with bookshelves.  Out of the corner of his eye he noticed her doctorate.  Vasir followed his gaze.

“University of Serrice, back on Thessia,” she translated for him. Regis could read it just fine, but he didn’t make it known aloud. 

Vikram, ever the studious matriarch when they wanted to be, made a point to teach him asari the moment they could.  Visits with his uncle were often laced with asari standard, getting immersed in their language when he was in his preteens to his teens.  He continued studying the language when he went to university, but it's not something he has to use often out in the field.   “She’s getting good use out of all that education,” she continued snidely.

Perhaps he and Vasir have more common ground than he expected.  

He rounded the corner and a glass case caught his attention, housing something beat up, charred and damaged, out of place in the admittedly elegant home.  He approached it, and immediately felt sick, his gaze first landing on a piece of scorched, frayed cloth, a scrap of black and red fabric that mirrored the one around his neck.  Something that always gave him comfort, a way to connect to his father through a tradition, a way to show his love by giving it to those he considers friends, family… lovers.

And here it was, imprisoned and stolen from him, alongside the armor that he took his last breath in.

Dark energy coursed through him, a flash of violet biotics that surrounded his hand into a bastardization of a Warp that was aimed straight for the display case, chaotic energy shooting forward and raw with power.

The sound of glass shattering filled the air, the once pristine display case reduced to nothing more than a pile of shards. He reached out for the battered torso of his armor, taking it apart, piece by piece, ignoring Samara's and Zaeed's noises of concern, ignoring Vasir’s shocked protest.  

Where is it, where are his dog tags, where is his father's goddamn ring?

He ripped away the scarf, pulling apart the seams of the armor, throwing away long since compromised plating and reinforced fibers, destroying his once beloved armor without a second thought.

How did she get this?  Did she tear it off his corpse when she felt she had the right to deliver his body to Cerberus?  He knows this is the one he died in, the grey armor he commissioned for himself, Kaidan, and later Ashley during the Normandy mission.

He remembered Kaidan touching his scarf with a gentle hand before they went their separate ways on the quickly decaying ship.  He remembered wishing it could give him warmth and comfort as he faded away in the vast emptiness of space that became his grave. 

There was nothing inside it, nothing more than a gruesome reminder of how he died and who brought him back

They can't be lost, can they?  If she was able to get this off of him, they had to be out there somewhere?

Did she take them too, thinking she had some sick claim?

"Regis!" Zaeed said, breaking Regis out of his thoughts.  Regis realized he was kneeling on the ground, clutching the remnants of his scarf in his hands, torn by his grip. 

Samara knelt down beside him, a calm and steady presence.  Regis looked around and saw Zaeed holding Vasir back with his arm, shaking his head.  Her face was neutral, but something burned behind her eyes.  

"I died in this armor," he said, his voice cracking at the end. 

Samara closed her eyes.  “What a terrible thing to keep.  To display in her own home.  Macabre.”

Wren rejoined them.  “Fucking hell,” she cursed, kneeling down next to them.  “God, I remember the day you requisitioned this set.”

“You… died in that armor?” Vasir stated, echoing his earlier words.  “How the hell did she get it?”

“You tell me, Vasir,” Regis spat, dropping the remnants of his scarf on the ground.  “Take whatever you need, Wren, for your dossier.  I need some fucking air.”

There wasn’t exactly a private place to go, so he walked over to the balcony next to the bullet holes.  Zaeed joined him, leaning against the barrier.  

Regis moved closer, the shoulders of their armor touching.  “Zaeed, I am going to be the worst goddamn hypocrite right now.”

He shrugged.  “Don’t feel like you have to apologize for fucking Zorya again.  None of us expected to see that.  What a fucking–” he shook his head.  “Don’t even have the goddamn words to say how angry I am on your behalf.”

“She has to have my dog tags.  My ring.  God, she tore that off of my corpse!  Cerberus didn’t have the full armor…” Regis swallowed down bile.  “I felt violated before, but this?” He let out a shuddering breath.  “This is unforgivable.”  

His fingers itched for a cigarette.  Not just one Astra to feel the sharp nip of red sand, but a whole goddamn pack.   He hasn’t smoked a whole pack since the days after Torfan.

The urge to ask Zaeed for his lighter kept growing every second.

“Do whatever you feel is right,” Zaeed said.  “But don’t let it destroy you.  She is not going to take away who you are.” He finished that statement with a hard look.  If Regis wasn't about to compromise his morals for one of the men he loved, he shouldn’t do it for himself either.  And then he will be mad about Zorya again.

Regis only nodded, his hand going back up to his own scarf.  Wren joined them next, her omnitool open.  A moment later, his omnitool pinged.

WC: Nomad found T’Soni.  Showed her a picture of us from N training.  She let down her guard and was able to meet with a contact.  I sent word that we were working with a Spectre and gave him her name. Turns out, she tried to kill T’Soni.  And her contact?  Has the location of the Shadow Broker.  She’s hellbent on getting revenge for some reason, but wouldn’t say until you meet up with her.

Wren shut off her omnitool and walked back over to where Vasir and Samara were by the stairs.

She was waiting for his move.  

What was Vasir’s motive for hunting down T’Soni?  Regis cursed himself for not knowing more about his Spectre “colleagues.”  There had to be something.

Regis glanced over at Zaeed who inclined his head towards Vasir.  He leaned in close and brushed a kiss against his cheek, whispering into his ear.  “Your move.  Think she could be an ally?”

“I want to think so.”

They rejoined the group by the stairs.  Vasir looked back at his old armor.  “I wondered what that was.  Now I know.  Dare I say that I was wrong with assuming that you were friends.”

“It’s a fair observation to make.  Wrong, but fair.  I’m only here to get information that could help me and my name,” Regis said.  “What brought you here?”

“Illium is my territory.  T’Soni made a name for herself, not that it was a good one,” she replied.  Vague but Regis couldn’t sense a lie.  Wren stayed neutral as well.  “You didn’t seem all that worried when you saw the carnage here.”

“Can’t say that I care very much for her well-being right now.  Besides, I would let the Shadow Broker deal with her, but I want my life back.” Regis said, staring her down.  “So I’ll ask one more question.”

“And that is?”

“I applaud you for your efforts here.  What made you stay behind after trying to take her down?”

Vasir tilted her head to the side, her face staying neutral.  “What the hell are you talking about, Shepard?”

“When I say that Wren has been looking into T’Soni, she has been tracking her every move.  Wondering why she’s dealing with Broker agents and Cerberus… making sure she can never return to the Alliance…” Regis gestured around.  “Wren told me two things.  Where T’Soni was, and what happened to her apartment.  I chose the apartment.  Our friend in the Ns chose her location.  And he found out something interesting from her and from a contact.”

He stepped closer, standing in front of Vasir.  “I told myself when I heard about what happened that I was only partially sorry that this shit failed.  That still remains true with what I learned just now.”

“And you’re going to trust whatever she says despite what you’ve learned from her apartment?  About the hand she played…” Vasir trailed off, seemingly at war with herself.  She let out a sigh a moment later, tensing up.  “Fine.  None of you are raising your weapons against me.  What game are you playing?” Her face twisted, morphing into anger. 

Wren spoke up.  “We’re not.  Why?  Why try to kill her?  What are you looking for?”

“You’re speaking to the Butcher of Torfan, a Justicar, and a former Blue Suns,” Regis said, not rising to the bait.  “I don’t think any of us have any moral ground to stand on, so neither do you.  Be honest.  I’m simply curious.”

She let out a surprised snort.  “You surprised me, Shepard.  I was wrong about many assumptions.  Fine.  You said it yourself.  She had dealings with Broker agents.  One such agent is now back in his clutches ever since she wronged the Broker.  He wants revenge.  She also wants revenge.”

“And he hired you?” Zaeed asked, sounding unimpressed.  “A goddamn Spectre.”

Before Vasir could reply, Samara filled in the blanks.  “You use his information for the Council, but it comes at a cost.”

“What’s a few lives for the good of the galaxy?  You would know, Shepard.  How did it feel losing the Ascension?”

Like resigning humanity to a different fate in the eyes of the galaxy.  

“Is this that ‘spitting on my name’ you were talking about earlier?  I own my shit, Vasir.  I’m the goddamn poster boy for Cerberus right now.  We are the same.”

Vasir stepped back away from him.  He’s made his point.  She made hers.  “And here I expected a friend hellbent on revenge to save his darling asari.  Instead, I got something better.”

“You know, Vasir, I think we have a similar goal in the end,” Regis said, rejoining his squad.

“Do we?” She asked, her markings rising up in surprise.  

“Stop hunting down T’Soni, and I’ll make sure you can keep doing what you’re doing, as I have my own plans for her,” Regis said, crossing his arms.  “I may end up having to work with her, but she will be the Alliance’s concern.”

“What do you have on her?” She asked, narrowing her eyes.  

“Nothing that helps you right now,” Wren said.  “Else I see you as another way to get what we want.  She wants the Shadow Broker.  Shadow Broker wants her.  We’ll meet up with her, see what plans she has.  If all she wants is that agent you mentioned, we can work a deal, perhaps?”

“Meet up with her.  I’ll stay here and later go dark.  Won’t be the first time it takes me a while to radio back in.”

“Do I have your word?” Regis asked.

“That I won’t follow you?” She chuckled.  “I didn’t know she had Alliance watching her.  I won’t be able to fool you.” She turned to Wren.  “Why aren’t you a Spectre, Major?”

“I have too much fun working with my favorite people,” Wren shrugged. She would make a good Spectre, but he doesn’t see her trying to pursue that path.  Vaguely, he knew that she was on the shortlist because of the Blitz and Elysium, but she’s never been one for ship command.  “How loyal are you to the Shadow Broker?”

“Why?  There’s not a goddess-damned thing any of you will be able to do to him.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Wren said.  “None of us care for him.  If it gets us closer to what we want with T’Soni.  Tough shit.  He’s just another obstacle.”

“You’ll take down an entire shadow organization just to get back at one person.” She scoffed.  “I guess I should've expected that of you.”  She faced them all down. “Put someone better in his place, if you're planning on going that far.  I won't be happy if we lose this resource.”

“Neither will I,” Regis admitted, watching as she tilted her head to the side in surprise. “I can't guarantee anything.  I have one goal in mind, and that’s to make sure T’Soni faces consequences for what she did.”

“I’ll accept that.  It won’t look good for either of us if a Spectre turns up dead.  But don’t count on my future help if you dismantle one of the few resources in the galaxy that can do some good.”

“What made you change your mind so readily about the Broker?” Samara asked.  “Loyal to a fault?”

She smirked.  “I see the writing on the wall, Justicar.  Shepard is a determined man.  He is looking for something and he’ll do anything to get it back.  I’d rather not get in his way.  I know his methods.”

“And I do as well,” Samara glanced over at him.  “Yet while this mission has forced his hand, he has kept his own word to me and has not strayed against a moral code with actions that I would find reprehensible.”

“Noble and moral to a fault, like all Spectres,” Vasir said, nodding at her and Regis.  She waved her omnitool, and Regis received a data transfer request.  “Here are my contact details.  Keep me out of the fallout.  I’m curious to see what next galaxy shattering act you’ll do next.”

He accepted her request, confirming the details.  “Next time, I hope we meet under better circumstances.”

“As do I, Shepard.  I don’t know whether to wish you luck or not.”

“With Shepard?  Luck is always appreciated,” Zaeed chuckled.  “I’ve done a couple of dealings with the Broker myself.  I wouldn’t mind seeing a different one in charge.”

Regis wasn’t surprised to hear about that, considering he himself had also dealt with the Broker on the SR-1, not seeing any reason to get on his bad side.  Turns out it didn’t matter in the end and he still tried to sell Regis to the Collectors.

T’Soni saved you from that fate.  She is the reason why you’re here.

He let out a sigh and tried to clear his head.  Her intent was why he was so mad, her selfishness, and her acting like she did nothing wrong.  She could’ve made things far worse for the galaxy if The Illusive Man didn’t want him as he was.

He may be fine with Miranda now, but he won’t forget the mention of the control chip so easily.  And a part of him can’t wait to throw that in T’Soni’s face.  

Zaeed glanced over at him as Vasir replied, “Then I’ll wish you luck.  Be careful out there.”  She walked out of the apartment with barely a glance behind her.

The moment she was out of sight, Regis sat down on the bottom of the stairs, heed in his hands.  His squad joined him: Zaeed said beside him, Samara behind him, and Wren on the step below him.

“Are you alright?” Wren asked.  “And be honest.  I don’t want any of this ‘I’m fine’ bullshit when you clearly aren’t.”

“I can’t reconcile any of this shit in my head.  I don’t know how to feel about any of this.  She gave me life, but…” he swallowed, trying to find the words but nothing came out.

“But she did it for herself first,” Samara guessed.  “She didn’t tell your family or your love about what she did.  She’s the reason why you’re leading his mission, but she’s also why you got a second chance.  I see why you’re so conflicted.  Good came out of her selfishness, even if you may not see it that way.”

“The thing is, I do,” Regis said.  “Because I may have died and remembered every goddamn second of it, I also–” he reached for Zaeed’s hand, who squeezed it tightly, “I also got something I’ve always wanted out of it.  But that doesn’t mean she can’t face consequences for her selfishness and recklessness that could’ve made things far worse for me.  For us.  For the fucking galaxy.”  He stood up, letting go of Zaeed’s hand.  “Let's not delay the inevitable any longer.  Where does Nomad want to meet up?”

“More like where T’Soni wants to meet up,” Wren said with a wry grin.  “Her office.  Nomad has the details on the Shadow Broker’s location.  He wasn’t too keen on letting her have it.”

Sounded like Nomad.  Quite protective of secrets.  

Quite protective of his fellow Alliance.  

“Then I guess we head back over to the main port,” Regis said with a sigh, steeling himself for that conversation. “At least we'll be close to the Normandy if we need her resources.”

– –

They barely opened the door to her office when Nomad waved them in.  He looked different, the two years changing him more than others.  He lost his long braids for a close shaven look, now sporting a beard that rivaled Regis's. It suited him well.  “Good to see you, Shepard.”

“Same to you, Nomad.  Wish it was under better circumstances.” Regis shook his hand. 

“Don't we all?  She's at her desk and not very happy, just letting you know.”

“And are you the source of that?” Wren asked playfully.

“Maybe.” A smile tugged at his lips before he stepped aside.  “She’s waiting.”

Regis walked up the stairs with Zaeed and Wren flanking him on both sides, Nomad and Samara a half-step behind him.  When he entered her office properly, she shot up from her desk and headed towards him.  Already clothed in armor, a more asari styled set than the Gladiator gear she chose for herself, if necessary, back on the SR-1.  It never was.  “Shepard!  What is going on?  Did you deal with Vasir?”

He stepped back, trying to put distance between himself and her.  “Vasir has been dealt with.  Though, I have to ask: What the hell were you thinking ever getting involved with the fucking Shadow Broker?”

“It was the only way I could–”

“Trust me, I know what you did,” Regis interrupted, unable to keep the venom out of his voice.  She flinched.  “T’Loak was kind enough to tell me, no strings attached.  You need to be better at stealth.  Lots of footage of you consorting with Cerberus.”

“Is that how the Alliance got involved in this?”  She pointed a finger at Nomad.  “Have you been watching me?”

He snorted.  “No.  The honor of that role goes to Wren Clarkson.  Word of advice, T’Soni.  You’ve made yourself a target of the Alliance, and by stealing away what could be considered Alliance property in some loopholes and interpretations of the law… you have burned any bridge you may have made while on Shepard’s old ship.”

“Just goes to show how careless you’ve been,” Wren said.  “Shepard has many friends and allies.  After his death, one such friend got their hands on that damning footage.  We’ve been watching you on and off for two years.”

T’Soni opened her mouth, her face twisting in anger, but Regis stepped forward, holding up a hand.  “The only reason why I'm helping you take down the Shadow Broker is because he damn near sold my body to the Collectors and I wouldn't mind seeing someone else in charge.  Consider yourself lucky that I'm not going after you for being a goddamn hypocrite and selling my body to a terrorist organization. Pot, kettle, T'Soni."

He’s not going after her yet.  And everyone in the room save for her knew it.

“But it worked out for you in the end!  I saved your life.  I couldn’t let you–”

“You couldn’t let me die?” Regis finished for her.  His family did.  Kaidan did.  The Alliance did.  Zaeed did.  But she couldn’t.  

She didn’t object.  He shook his head, stepping back.  “Whatever.  No use arguing about it now.”  The image of his armor in the glass case burned in his mind.  “Good job on preserving my armor though.  Was it hard to remove from my body?”

She flinched again, stepping back this time.  He felt a small amount of satisfaction at her reaction, but she didn't offer up any protests or arguments. 

Nomad inhaled sharply from behind him.

Wren stepped forward, cutting through the tension in the air.  “I think we’ve spent enough time on this.  The Shadow Broker awaits.  But what is about him–other than his dealings with the Collectors–makes you so damn determined to take him down, T’Soni?”  She asked, sincere, crossing her arms.

“I don’t have to answer to you,” she replied, balling her hands into fists.  

“But will you answer to me?  I am offering my help, but I can go, do this on my own, and forget all this and leave you here,” Regis said, narrowing his eyes.  

She seemed to be at war with herself, looking at Regis, his fellow N7s, and his squad.  “Fine.  He has taken my friend–that friend, mind you is part of the reason why you’re here.  Combine that with his desire to get rid of me for taking away his precious cargo, I have plenty of reasons why I want to take him down.  And your N7 refuses to part with the information that could lead us directly to him.”

He chose to ignore her pointed comment about him and turned to Nomad.  “Ready to part with it now, Nomad?”

“For you, sure,” he said, throwing a smirk over at T’Soni.  “Location data at your service, my friend.”  He passed over the disk, and Regis pocketed it in a pouch of his armor with a nod.  

“I see no reason to delay any longer,” Regis said.  “We’re taking the Normandy.  Nomad, Wren?”

“I’ll join you,” Wren said.  “Nomad?”

“I have my own transport.  I’ll stay behind,” he replied.  “Think you’ll have enough firepower without me.”

He waited for T’Soni’s response.  She looked between all of them before nodding.  “It would give us the best chance to fly in undetected, assuming the stealth systems are the same.”

He nodded.  “Unfortunately, I’d argue it’s better.”  He opened his omnitool with a flick of his wrist and hailed Moreau.  “Moreau, prepare the Normandy for takeoff.  I’ll wire you the coordinates.  We need to go in as quiet as possible for this trip.”

He answered almost immediately. “On it, Shepard.”

“Wren, T’Soni. I'm wiring you temporary access to the Normandy. Don't abuse it,” he said with a pointed look at Wren, who merely smiled in response. He gave her some of the highest authority he could, while T’Soni got the same guest access he gave her back on the SR-1. 

He pushed the requests through, appending another message to Wren’s request asking her to join him in his cabin the moment they can.  

“What is your plan, Shepard?” Samara asked, speaking up after standing silently for so long.

“To take down the goddamn Broker, what else?” Zaeed said, turning to the Justicar.  She narrowed her eyes slightly, betraying a hint of annoyance before nodding.  “How big of a squad are you taking?”

“That will be seen,” Regis said.  “Let’s get back to the ship.  T’Soni, are you ready?”

She nodded.  “I am.  I’ve already made my preparations.”  She grabbed a pistol and a SMG from her desk. “I’ve never been on the battlefield with you, Shepard.”

“You’ll be following my orders,” Regis reminded.  “I kept you grounded on the SR-1 for a reason.  Seems like now you have the training to keep yourself alive.  Don’t give me any reason to bench you.”

He kept wanting her to lash out at him, to react, to be angry at him.  She never did, only nodding and following behind him.  Wren took up the back, only stopping to say something to Nomad he didn’t catch before rejoining them.

They must’ve been a hell of a sight walking through Illium, but Regis didn’t care.

He was one step closer to hopefully getting rid of T’Soni and her influence on his life.

– – 

As they entered the Normandy, Regis stopped in front of the cockpit, knowingly keeping Moreau in earshot.  “Welcome aboard.  T’Soni, you’ve met our pilot, Jeff Moreau.  Moreau, I don’t think you’ve met Major Wren Clarkson.”

He nodded at T’Soni but didn’t offer a greeting, which was telling.  His gaze landed on Wren’s chestplate.  “Alliance on board a Cerberus ship?  Scandalous!”

“Could say the same thing to you,” she laughed, looking around.  “Hell of a frigate.”

“I appreciate your compliments, Major,” EDI’s hologram appeared.  To her credit, Wren barely flinched, her eyes lighting up in interest.

“Regis, you didn’t tell me there was an AI on board!” she said, turning to him with a grin.  “They got you good with that.”

Regis rolled his eyes.  “Because I knew you would get like this.  Were you able to input the location data, EDI?”

“Yes.  Hagalaz, Sowilo system in the Hourglass Nebula, known for its violent storm cells.  A curious destination.”

“I agree.” Regis paused for a beat.  “It’s the location of the Shadow Broker’s base, so stealth will be required.”

“Wait a minute, we’re going where?  Why?” Moreau asked, spinning around in his chair.

Before Regis could reply, Zaeed spoke up.  “T’Soni picked a bone with him when she stole Shepard’s body out from under him.”

“Right…” he narrowed his eyes, his gaze landing on T’Soni before turning back around.  “Why can’t we have an easy, low stakes mission for once?  Let’s take down the galaxy’s biggest information broker that no one knows anything about, that’s going to be easy!”

“This is what you signed up for, Moreau,” Regis said, walking towards the CIC.  He motioned to get Chambers’ attention.  “Chambers, show T’Soni where the medbay, armory, and cargo are and confirm that she has level 1 access for me.”

Surprised at his attention on her, she jumped to it, first motioning for T’Soni to follow her to the armory.  Maybe Taylor can distract her as well.

Before she was completely dragged away, she said, “We need more time to plan, what about your other guest?”

“My other guest is far more equipped for this mission due to her years of experience as an Alliance infiltrator and N7.  I don’t have that same background for you.  We have plenty of time to regroup before the mission, but you also need to be aware of the ship’s necessities in case we have a problem.”

“Besides, he’s long since leaked the SR-2’s plans to the Alliance,” Wren shrugged.  “Which they stole from us, so it’s only fair.”

Regis keyed in his personal cabin code into the elevator and walked inside, motioning for his squad to follow.  It was a bit of a cramped fit all in their gear, but it was the most private place to talk and regroup before they do an official rundown.

There wasn’t a lot of seating in his cabin, so he and Zaeed sat next to each other on the edge of the bed, while Wren and Samara sat on the couch.

Regis took another deep breath.  In and out.  “We’re heading in straight to a large mobile ship,” Regis began.  “It uses the storm as cover, so once we land on the outside, we have to move quick.”

“Or else we get fried,” Zaeed said, pulling out his omnitool to look up facts about the planet.  “Helluva cover.”

“It does ensure a particular amount of safety,” Samara agreed.  “However, after we get inside, what is the plan?  You are serious about dealing with the Broker?”

“To an extent,” Regis admitted.  “I would like to make a deal if I can, but I doubt that will even be possible.  I may have made a deal with Vasir and I understand what the network can do, but I’m willing to go as far as to destroy it if it comes to it.”

“Maybe not,” Wren mused.  “We kill the bastard and ensure that you are no longer a target.  We put someone else in his place, and we throw the book down on T’Soni.”

“And who exactly do you suggest for that?” Regis asked, raising an eyebrow.  “I’m hoping I can distract T’Soni with her friend the Broker has held hostage, but it’s not like any of us can just take the helm.” He looked back over at Wren, a small smile forming on her face.  “I see,” he said, crossing his arms.  “You want to turn this into an Alliance asset.”

“Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking of something similar,” she said.  “At the very least, I can keep it alive until something happens.”

“I would say that is foolish,” Samara began, causing the attention to fall onto her.  She did not waver.  “Going up against a powerful, corrupt institution with the expectation you can change it for the better.  But then again, is that not why you still helm this ship, Shepard?”

Regis clenched his jaw, knowing she had a point.  Wren spoke up once more, “Worst case scenario, we blow the whole thing up and deal with the fallout from Vasir.  I wonder if she’ll appreciate being free from the reigns herself, or maybe we will give ourselves another enemy.”

“Considering the whole point is to deal with T’Soni,” Zaeed said, crossing his arms.  “The Broker is just another goddamn obstacle.  Though, with the right Alliance in charge… we’ll be more prepared for the Reapers.”

Regis could agree with that.  “We’ll proceed with the assumption that we will be shutting down the network or putting it into severe disarray.  But, if there’s a chance we can take it for ourselves, I say we do it.”

“I can concede to that,” Samara nodded.  “Even if I do find parts of this plan foolish.  I understand your reasoning, Shepard.  You have my support.”

“Does Hackett know what you are planning, Wren?” Regis asked.

“Partially,” she admitted.  “Plausible deniability at the moment, you see.”

Figures.  This felt like something Wren would come up with on her own, and Regis would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t thought about taking the network for himself.

His fingers itched to message Kaidan.  Hell, even his mother, who he had yet to call.

This was yet another suicide mission they were preparing for, not knowing the full breadth of what they were getting themselves into.

And it didn’t help that his greatest betrayer was aboard this ship.

Regis finally nodded at her statement, standing up from the bed.  “You just like giving him more shit to deal with.”

“He’s made a point to ensure no one in the Alliance is going after you,” Wren said.  “This could be yet another way to clear your name.”

“Taking over a whole network just to make my life easier?” Regis barked out a laugh when she didn't immediately interject.  “Fucking insane.  Fine, I’ll start to approach this mission as if we are taking over the network.  Selfish as all hell, but at this point, I want to use everything I can to burn this fucking organization to the ground.”

Regis waited for Samara to object or comment, but she did not, only nodding and rising from her position on the couch.  “When I signed up for this mission, I didn’t expect another mission that could be coined as a ‘suicide’ mission.  You continue to surprise, Shepard.  You will still have my support on this, as I would also like to see T’Soni be put to justice for what she did.  I doubt the asari leadership would be happy to hear about her dealings either.  My word has weight in some circles.”

“Thank you.  I appreciate having your guidance,” Regis said.  HIs omnitool pinged with a message.

EDI: Chambers wanted me to inform you that T’Soni is getting impatient.  

He looked up at the covered viewscreen in his cabin and let out a sigh.

“Got your message, EDI.  Please inform her that this is my ship, and she is merely a guest at my discretion.  We will be down momentarily,” he replied aloud, preferring to speak to her in person.

Her ability to respond immediately to text messages bothered him some, even though it was benign.  Plus, he enjoyed talking to her verbally, hoping that she felt the same.

“Understood, Shepard.  May I inquire as to why you brought her on board despite your clear antagonism towards her?”

EDI sounded curious, her robotic voice tinged with something more underneath her usual inflection. 

Regis decided to indulge her curiosity.  “She’s a means to an end, and this way I can keep an eye on her until I ensure she’s no longer involved in my affairs.”

“Understood, Shepard.  I'll ensure she stays out of our systems in case she decides to try anything.  Judging by her new background on Illium, I believe she could be a potential security risk.  Your message has been relayed.”

“Much appreciated, EDI.”  She didn’t comment on Wren’s obvious security risk.  She must have picked on Regis’s feelings towards the both of them and came to a conclusion accordingly.

He’s stealing EDI off this ship the moment he gets a chance after his tenure with Cerberus ends.

“I'll go ahead and head down to deal with T’Soni,” Wren said, standing up from the couch.  

Samara stood up as well. “I'll go with you, Clarkson.  You said you were a Fury, yes?  I'd like to talk more about your techniques before we reach our destination.”

“I would love to,” she replied.  Once Samara turned her back, Wren looked absolutely excited at the idea, giving Regis a grin. 

Regis merely smiled in response, reaching out for Zaeed's hand to squeeze. After the ladies left his cabin, Zaeed cupped his face, pulling him in for a kiss.  Regis closed his eyes, letting out a sigh and parting his lips, allowing this indulgent gesture, allowing him to stop being Commander Shepard for one goddamn minute and be Regis, Zaeed's and Kaidan's lover. 

“You've been asked this plenty lately, but are you okay?” Zaeed murmured into his ear, pressing a kiss on the sensitive spot underneath his ear. 

Regis shivered, letting out a quiet chuckle. “I won't be okay until I'm off this fucking ship for good.”

Zaeed snorted, having heard this plenty of times before. “Tell me how you really feel.  Want to call him?”

“I do, but I’ll make him worry more.”

“He’s already worried, what’s a little more?  He’s probably already somewhat aware of what Wren’s plans are.”

“Other than her dossier?” Regis snorted, knowing that she kept her cards close most of the time, though he wondered how close they got during the two-year gap.  “I doubt it.”

Zaeed gave him a look and held out his omnitool.  “Remember that goddamn promise we made?”

Regis winced.  Of course he does.  They promised to keep him updated.  

“Call him,” he said, pointedly.  “I’m going to bother T’Soni.” He squeezed his shoulder as he stood up, and Regis didn’t protest as he walked out of his cabin.

With a breath, he opened his omnitool and scrolled to their server connection, opening up a private link and sending it through, getting up to link to his vid screen at his side desk.  Glancing at the time and doing a quick conversion… it would be afternoon on Arcturus.  

A moment passed, and the link opened, Kaidan’s face appearing on the screen with a smile.  It quickly disappeared as he took in Regis’s appearance.  “What’s gotten you all geared up and ready to go?  What’s wrong?  Don’t tell me it’s already time…”

Regis shook his head.  “Not yet.  Still have a few things to work through.”

Recruiting Tali, as much as he wants to keep her out of Cerberus. Dealing with more final personal requests from the various ground crew. Anything to ensure they are as ready as possible.

“Then what has gotten you so on edge?”

“Hackett messaged me.  Wren’s surveillance got us something good.  T’Soni’s been hunting the Shadow Broker ever since she stole my body out from under him,” he began.

Kaidan leaned back in the chair he was sitting in, rubbing his temples.  “Utter insanity.  Although… I can’t help but be thankful you didn’t end up in his clutches.”

Regis had conceded to that point long ago.  “Honestly, this whole situation isn’t something I like thinking about, but in some ways, she did me a favor.  A fucking terrible one.   But get this.  We went to her apartment, and you want to know what was displayed in her home?” Already, venom and disgust had made themselves known.

“With the way you sound, I don’t think I want to know.” His eyebrows were furrowed.  Leaning in closer to the vidscreen, he clasped his hands together, holding them tightly, preparing for bad news.

“My goddamn armor and scarf.  The chestplate,” he spat, feeling the dark energy crackle underneath his skin, spurred on by his anger.  

Kaidan shook his head, turning away.  “I read every bit of that report you sent me.  All of those hundreds of pages, pouring through every detail of their meticulous recount of everything they did to bring you back.”  Regis couldn’t help but close his eyes at that, thinking of his sleepless nights spent pouring over those words.

Those terrifying words.

“And I noticed their initial report on the state of your body.  Some armor intact.  No chestplate.” He almost sounded clinical.  “Focusing on all the oddities.  Hell, I called Vikram, and we both were stuck on that one goddamn point.”

Regis remembered the call they had with Kaidan not long after he initially found out T’Soni gave him away to Cerberus.  Post-orgasmic bliss with Zaeed turned sour because they knew they had to update him on what they learned, about what a former member of the SR-1 did to him.

Kaidan was stuck on the chestplate then.  

He swallowed visibly, almost looking a little pale.  Concerned, Regis almost stopped and interrupted him, but he had to hear what Kaidan was going to say.  Even if it was hard on him, on both of them.

“I know you want your ring back and your dog tags back.  So, all points to her.  If she’s the one that kept them… Ruin her, Regis, not just for yourself and your career, but for what she stole from you and us."  His voice was carefully still, carefully low, but his eyes burned blue.

“You can count on that.” Regis clenched his fist.  “Wren has plans that might work out well for the Alliance.”

“I wasn’t worried.  That tattoo on the front of your neck is proof enough.  What was that quote you found about Labolas when figuring out how to say ‘Fuck you’ to regs after Torfan…” 

The demon on his neck.

Regis touched his neck, tracing down with his gloved hand.  “I’m paraphrasing, but: A merciless butcher… once it has sunk its teeth into an enemy, it will not let go until their last breath.”

A rueful smile appeared on his face.  “And that’s how I know you will get your due.  Good luck, and please be careful… and whatever Wren is planning, I don’t want to hear about it until it succeeds.  I love you, and give Zaeed all my love.”

“I love you, too.  We will be safe.” Regis kissed his fingertips and brought them to the vidscreen, resting them against Kaidan’s face.

He mirrored his gesture and ended the call with a grim smile.

Regis let out another breath, and he steeled himself for the upcoming mission.

– –

Regis delayed going down to cargo as long as he could.  He knew he was being avoidant.  He knew he was delaying the inevitable.  

But he did not want to deal with her any longer.  No more justifications or platitudes.  Nothing can justify what she chose to do. 

Even if…

Regis shook his head to rid the thought. Doesn't matter what good came out of it now. There's plenty of far worse ways her terrible decision could've gone. 

Miranda and admitting the control chip possibility to him continued to linger in the back of his mind, even as he grew to like her.   He can't deny the allure of such a choice.  He's proven to be a menace in more ways than one. 

They had to have known his views on Cerberus before they chose to carve and sculpt him again.  Yet they wanted him whole and intact…

Briefly, a thought occurred that T’Soni could have also been behind that.  Considering she was the one who hauled him over to the enemy, she may have had reservations of her own to keep them in line. 

Nothing that can be gained without talking to her, and he wanted to do as little of that as possible.  

He stopped by Miranda’s office to update her on the situation, being vague on the Alliance details, but she could read between the lines.  

“Wren is just looking out for me,” he offered at the tailend of their conversation.

She didn’t seem impressed, merely raising an eyebrow and brushing away the stray hairs from her bun away from her face.  “I’ll keep looking the other way.  I owe you that much.  Still, I’m surprised you offered the ship for this.”

“I need to keep an eye on her, and we all know the Normandy is the best choice for this kind of mission.”

“That she is.  Can’t say I won’t miss the Shadow Broker in his current state.”

“You and me both.  I’ll keep you on standby in case we need more backup alongside Samara?”

She nodded, not at all surprised at his preferred team at this point.  “Who are you taking down there other than Zaeed?”

She knows him a little too well at this point.

It should concern him, even more so knowing how much intel they had on him in order to recreate him… but she’s admittedly become a reluctant friend.

He hopes she’ll follow him into the Alliance.

“I was thinking Samara, but I might need to pare down the ground team to reduce potential interference from the Broker.  As of now, you and her will be on direct standby, and Wren, Zaeed, T’Soni will be going down with me.”

“Even her?”

Regis met her questioning tone with a hard look.  “Especially her.”

“Maybe I do want to know what you have planned,” she murmured.  Regis only smiled.  She seemed to take it as an answer, nodding, tapping her fingers on her desk rhythmically.  “Fair enough.  I’m sure I’ll figure out the details later.  Be careful out there.  Sounds like you are taking on another suicide mission in the midst of our own.”

“At least you can acknowledge it as such,” he chuckled.  

“I would be a fool not to.” She went back to her screen, and Regis took his leave from her office. 

He was tempted to make a few more stops. Say hello to Chakwas and give her a heads up about the situation, even if Chambers did take T'Soni there already.  Check on the Normandy’s weapons and triple check Vakarian’s work on them to make sure they will have no issues if the Normandy needs to fight her way out.  Pack a few extra energy bars and supplements in case he crashes out on the field, even if he knows that Zaeed always keeps extra supplies on him since Kaidan isn’t here to do the same…

He needs to stop stalling and face the numbers.

Why did he agree to bring her on board?

Closure. The potential to get his due. 

He has to remember that.  

He stopped by the armory to grab his Widow, Eagle, and Mattock, checking each gun over and locking them to his suit.  

He hesitated, looking over the heavy weapons, and decided to not bring any.  The extra weight wasn't necessary, and Zaeed usually kept his grenade launcher on him anyway. 

“Deciding if you need to prepare for the worst?” Taylor asked, breaking the silence. 

“Something like that,” Regis said, closing the cabinet that housed his personal arsenal. “Wasting time, mostly.”

“Everyone else has already stopped by.  Was beginning to wonder about you. Need anything?” He crossed his arms. 

Even after all this time on the SR-2, Regis still wasn’t sure of his opinion on Taylor.  Already soured due to him leaving the Alliance for Cerberus of all things, it was hard for him to change his opinion on him.  It only took Miranda telling him the truth about everything involved in his resurrection to slowly warm up to her.

In time, Regis figures he too might come to an understanding with him.  But for now, things are still distant.

“Be on standby in case we have a problem on board the Shadow Broker’s base. Other than that–” Regis keyed in his passcode to his cabinet, locking it up. “No. I appreciate it, though.”

“Will do. Good luck out there.  Seems like you’ll need it.”

“I won’t argue with that, Taylor.  Thanks for the extra maintenance on my Widow.  Damn good calibrations on the scope.”

Normally, he trusts Zaeed with it, but weapon maintenance felt like a good olive branch to have with Taylor. Not a bad man. Former Alliance... but that fact also soured part of his opinion on him.

He does trust him on the battlefield, which is more he can say about some of his other recruitments.

“Might even send you the details on how I did it.  Just let me know.”

Weapon maintenance tended to be an easy way to get an in with Regis, he has to admit.  Mostly.  It helped with Zaeed back in the day… he started to respect them a hell of a lot more when Regis and Kaidan both were working on their borrowed guns and making notes on the mods Zaeed had made to them.  2180, a far simpler time.

“I'll hold you to that,” Regis replied good-naturedly, pointing at him before walking out and back towards the elevator. 

“We will be reaching the ship shortly, Shepard.” EDI announced as he entered the elevator to finally head down to cargo.  

“Thank you,” he replied, steeling himself for what’s to come.

He’s survived Torfan, he’s survived death for fuck’s sake. 

Thanks to her.

He can handle what’s ahead.

– –

Everyone was ready in the bay by the time Regis joined them.  Zaeed was off to the side, sharpening a blade.  Wren was glaring daggers at T’Soni the moment she stood up to greet Regis.  Samara was meditating in the bay, at the ready.  He appreciated her volunteering to stay behind after hearing the plan, realizing that a smaller squad has its benefits.

This was going to go swimmingly.

He cleared his throat.  “We don’t know much about the Shadow Broker save for a few key points on his operations.  This mission is high risk with little reward if we don’t take care.  Zaeed, on point with me.”  He nodded, sheathing the forged blade.

Regis looked over at Wren.  “I want you to flank.  Scout ahead once we’re on the ship. Depending on the situation, we may end up sticking close.”

“Of course.” She acknowledged. "Likely best to stay together."

“And T’Soni?” He met her gaze.  “You’re sticking with Zaeed and me.”

She nodded, surprisingly offering up no comment.  He’ll have to talk to Zaeed and Wren later to find out exactly what went down here while he was wasting time.

Or perhaps EDI will know.

In a few moments, they boarded the shuttle, waiting for the word from Moreau to depart to the ship.  

“You are ready to get out of here. Good luck, you crazies. I wouldn't be caught dead flying in this kind of storm,” Moreau announced.  Their pilot–Samson, he knew the last name, yet to have bothered to remember her first name–affirmed that they were on the way to the ship without a snipe back to Moreau. 

He had to give it to her for staying away from the bait. 

Already, despite being inside a shielded shuttle, Regis could hear and feel the lightning storm around them.  Thunder clapping in the air like bombs dropping on the surface of a planet, softened by the soundproofing of the shuttle but still clear as day.  

The Shadow Broker's ship was a monster.  A whole city flying through the air, covered in unique shielding and nodes designed to keep itself in alliance with the tumultuous conditions of the planet.  A true beast he'd love to see in his own hands or crashed to the surface if it came down to it.  An engine covered with shielding that was as bright as any sun.

Wren leaned forward, resting her chin on her arms. “Seems like what they said is true about all the storms.”

“Makes for a helluva backdrop,” Zaeed grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning back in the seat.  “The surface of that fucker must be covered with rods or some shit to keep the poor sods from getting fried.”

“Seems like a terrible way to live,” Regis said.  He brushed his gloved hand against Zaeed’s thigh.  Zaeed put his hand over his, keeping it still on his leg.

A comfort he hated to admit he needed right now.

“His ship follows the sunset. Completely undetectable in the storm, unless you know where to look,” T’Soni said, leaning forward.  

Zaeed made a noise that Regis couldn’t quite read.  “Wish it was easy for us to board that ship.  Obviously, the bay is going to be locked down tight.  Finding a hatch might be like looking for a needle in a goddamn haystack.”

“And we can’t be out for long,” Wren grunted, standing up from her seat and peering out the window.  “This is going to be a shitstorm.”

“I think there’s already one going on outside,” Regis said with a half-hearted chuckle, and it was worth the annoyed look Wren gave just to see her lips quirk up in a smile anyway.

“Seems like dying and coming back didn’t change your sense of humor.”

Ouch.  Appreciating her bluntness, he barked out a laugh.  “Means I’m still me, I guess.”

“Was a bit worried something might've changed.  But if Kaidan didn’t see anything different, even being blinded by that ass of yours, then I can trust that it’s the same asshole I’ve always known,” she admitted, glaring more daggers at T’Soni.  She wisely stayed silent.

“He didn't let me off easy.  Felt him Reave.  I’m still learning how to do that from Samara,” Regis replied, twisting his fingers into a false mnemonic.  “He’s so powerful.” He didn't even try to keep the awe out of his voice. He's so proud of how far he's come with his biotics, only wishing he was right there with him to learn them, especially from Vik... To continue their trend of learning and creating together…

“God, you’re so in love,” she said, shaking her head.  Her tone was light, however. “He told me all about it.  Felt pretty damn guilty about it afterwards.”

“He found it pretty damn hot,” Zaeed interjected with a hint of a purr.  Regis huffed out a laugh, not denying it because he did find Kaidan wrapped in his corona very enticing. Wren let out a disgusted noise and rolled her eyes, likely regretting joining them for this mission at least a little.

He missed this type of easy dynamic.

Shame it took this kind of mission to bring it out.

“Preparing to reach the surface of the ship.  Be ready for a drop, Commander,” Samson announced, swinging the shuttle over to the surface of the ship.  

“Be ready for us to return,” he replied, brushing away Zaeed’s hand and standing up.  Soon enough, they were all gathered at the hatch, and the moment it opened and ready for them to drop, Regis went down first, flanked by Zaeed.

How it should be.

How it always should be.

While he enjoyed having Wren back with him, dropping behind him with a flourish, she wasn’t Kaidan.  And how he yearned to be the three of them on the battlefield.  

Regis, Kaidan, Zaeed.

One day, that will be true.

For now, it’s back to dealing with the Shadow Broker, destroying the Collectors, and seeing what comes next.

Now onboard the ship, the wind whipping around them as lightning and thunder clashed in the air, Regis took a moment to look around.  The ship was reinforced with various panels and shielding, some sparking bright with electricity.  

Does the ship also get power from the storms?  Smart if so.

T’Soni spoke up, her voice sharp via the comms.  “It's hard to pinpoint in this lightning, but I'm picking up signals from a communications array near the back of the ship."

“Agreed.  Use a noise reducer and it's loud and clear.  Appears to be our target,” Wren affirmed, unholstering her N7 Valkyrie.

Zaeed stayed close to him, his Raider at the ready.  

The easiest way to travel on top of the ship was via the slanted side panels that flanked the main top deck, some already reinforced with railing, but close enough to a drop that gave Regis pause while leading his crew.  

"There's nothing below but maintenance equipment. We have to find an entrance near the back shielding,” T’Soni continued.  Seemed like she was able to read up on the ship.  Useful.

Before Regis walked underneath an arch, his visor came to life with proximity warnings.  Some type of tech is nearby… the outputs implied to be drones.  A quick glance at the detection seemed to be non-combat models.  

Maintenance perhaps.

“Watch out, we’re going to trigger the maintenance systems,” Regis said, holding up his fist.  “Be ready to take them down.”

He didn’t wait for an affirmative and walked over the trigger point, throwing off an Overload the moment he saw a bright orange drone pop out of a hatch.  Beside him, he heard Zaeed switching ammo types.  Disruptor ammo would be useful here.  

He felt biotics come to life behind him, one field familiar, yet cool and soft, like Wren herself.  The other… he knew it belonged to T’Soni, but it wasn’t the warmth and comfort he associated with Kaidan or Wren’s icy haven. Rather, something invasive, like even his biotics recognized his feelings towards her and wanted her field to stay back. Similar to the incessant buzzing of flies on a hot day–unavoidable and a nuisance.

He grit his teeth and continued forward, keeping an eye out for more drones.

Their path led them to another straight away.  LIghtning hit the ship, aimed at two pillars pointed towards the sky.  They lit up brightly, sparkling with energy.  Best to stay away.

“Capacitors,” Wren said over the coms.  They collect and discharge built up electricity.”

Right as she finished her statement, agents of the Broker poured out of a hatch that closed behind them, getting into position behind the capacitors.

“Fucking idiots,” Zaeed said, swapping out his shotgun for his Mattock and shooting at one of the capacitors.  In a flash, the energy discharged, shooting out and shocking the agents, knocking them out.  “Don’t stand next to the goddamn bombs right next to ya!”

“Nice one, Zee!” Regis praised, leading the squad over to the hatch.  Appeared to be one way, and the ship likely had layers upon layers of security.  No outside terminal access seemed to be nearby.  Wireless hacking would take too damn long.

“Looks like we need to find another way in,” Wren muttered.  “Guess we do have to take the long way.”

“Seems like it,” Regis affirmed and prepared himself for the long walk.

It was a repetitive journey, making their way down the ship.  Taking side paths covered in drones and repair mechs armed to the teeth, followed by squads of agents of all species fighting against them.  

Part of Regis hated to admit that T’Soni adapted to them well, using her biotics primarily as support, firing off singularities that rivaled Kaidan’s and pulling mechs off the side of the ship before their lights could turn on.  It made the trek easier, knowing that he didn’t have to cover for her the same way he, Kaidan, and Ashley did on Therum all those years ago–but perhaps that wasn’t even fair, considering she had been trapped in that prothean contraption for days on end…

Still, he holds that she was a civilian risk and she had no place on his ship.  

But her being there brought you–

Enough.

A brief reprieve in their fight brought Zaeed closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder plating and holding it tight before giving him a soft look.  “Later,” Regis said, not quite shrugging him off, but stepping back.  Zaeed nodded, furrowing his eyebrows but not protesting.  Not when they are out in the field.  Not when they have an audience.

One thing at a time.  First, get inside this ship.  Then, deal with the Broker and see if T’Soni’s partner is still alive.  From there… he can deal with the shit in his head.

They reached the area where the communication array signal was coming from, a large inset door with a med station on the wall next to it.  T’Soni walked up towards it, activating her omnitool as Wren did the same.

“Whatever you have on you will be stronger with my own programs,” Wren said, putting a haptic display on the door as T’Soni put one on her side.

“I have a bypass shunt program, what do you have?” T’Soni asked, sounding skeptical.

Regis looked between them and sighed.  Wren’s face looked pinched, but she answered all the same.  “Something similar.  Built on Regis’s own bypasses that won him Torfan.”

He grit his teeth at the mention of his past mission, knowing exactly what he used it for.  No survivors, he had ordered.  

Still, it was a damn good program, and he imagined that Wren had improved on it greatly with her own personal twists.

“I imagine the Shadow Broker’s security would be far better than some Batarian basics.” T’Soni sounded unimpressed.  Here we go.  He should intervene, and even Zaeed’s eyes behind his breather mask looked pinched instead of interested in the inevitable fight that was about to break out.

Wren can fight her own battles.  She displays the N7 proudly for a reason.

“And I imagine that you just bought that bullshit program off of some black market without confirming its validity and accuracy,” she shot back.

“Who out of the two of us has broken into a Broker’s base before?” She didn’t deny it.  Regis filed that tidbit away for later if her program failed, and as more context for what she went through to steal his corpse and ship it off.  She wasn’t just on Omega… but in the Broker’s territory?

“And who is actually trained in infiltration and espionage, hmm?” Wren replied, sounding bored.  “Either one will work, both will work, or neither one of them and Zaeed can blow this place up!”

Zaeed almost seemed to perk up at that next to him.  Always up for a bit of destruction.

Regis stepped forward.  “Exactly.  Now, I can’t imagine that the Broker’s forces will let this slide, so get into position!”

Zaeed returned to his spot next to him, while T’Soni and Wren flanked both sides, knowing that the sides of the ship were more likely to have forces pouring out.  For a brief moment, Regis wondered how the Broker was able to amass an operation to this kind of scale–experimental ship, lower ranking agents who go through higher ranking agents, and countless recruits ready to put their lives down for him.

But then again, Regis has seen what his own name has inspired in others, and it makes him shudder.  Influence goes a long way.

As both programs activated, alarms started to blare out, and Regis readied himself for another fight.

– –

Thankfully, at least one of the programs worked–and Regis didn’t care to know which one.  The hatch opened as Zaeed took out the last group of agents with a well placed grenade, grinning as they burned alive.

“Hurry, get your asses inside,” Regis commanded, motioning for them to follow before he locks the doors, eyeing an emergency release that will seal the door.

The moment everyone was inside, he pulled down the release, sealing the door shut behind them.

No easy way out now.  Nor was there any time to regroup and prepare for their next steps.  More agents began to ambush them, and Regis caught sight of one agent carrying a ML-77.  With a twitch of his fingers, he blasted dark energy towards them, tossing out a powerful singularity to knock out the agent off their feet before they could fire the launcher.  Before he could toss out another order, Wren moved in and detonated his singularity with a nasty warp, knocking out the group of guards trapped within.

“Don’t see any more of them, we’re in the clear,” T’Soni announced. Regis kept his Eagle in hand, slowly moving forward.  With clinical precision, he shot the heads of each of the guards to ensure no one tried to follow them further in the belly of the beast, and ejected the thermal clip without a second thought, slotting in a new one as they trekked on.

It was the same song and dance as they traveled through the ship.  Tight hallways and groups of loyal Shadow Broker agents at every twist in turn.  Biotics and tech explosions and a handful of inferno grenades to clean up the mess, alongside firepower.

They kept up with each other well, even with T’Soni now taking up their flank.  Regis would’ve never guessed the transition would’ve been this smooth, but he’s always felt that biotics almost give you more of an attuned “battle” sense, and she and her blasts of dark energy ended up complimenting them well.

And he hated it.

Eventually, their fighting led them almost to what looked like more of a reception area, with desks and various screens all around, providing ample cover for more agents to attack.  The battle was starting to wear on him, his amp feeling like fire underneath his skin, his hands shaking with every mnemonic thrown.

He needs a boost and a break, and he doubts he’ll get either.  Zaeed had a pinched look on his face, one he knows well when his merc is starting to feel the stress of combat on his bones.  Wren was as quick and spry as ever, but even she seemed weary.

He couldn’t read T’Soni.  He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be able to.

Once the next group of agents was dealt with, a glass window caught his eye… peering into a room with what looked to be some kind of torture device.

“I think someone’s strapped to it,” Wren said, holstering her Hurricane.  She checked the door.  “Locked.  Regis, you want to do the honors?”  She stepped aside, giving him a wide berth to the door. 

He nodded, opening his omnitool interface and started to breach the security, looking for patterns until he was able to break through and get the door unlocked.  The display of his ‘tool was bright in the low-light of the ship, seeming even brighter with the weariness he was feeling.  

The displayed lock on the door quickly turned green, waiting for input to be opened.  Before he could step forward, Wren was already making her way back over.

“T’Soni, with me to check on this poor bastard and see if they’re a friend or a foe.  Zaeed, Regis, you want to take a second and scout around?” Wren said, looking between them.

“Sounds like a good goddamn idea.  Come on, Regis,” Zaeed replied, damn near pulling him towards him as they backtracked through their destruction, not even waiting to hear T’Soni’s response.  Distantly, an indignant “Should we really be splitting up?” could be heard echoing through the hallways, but he didn’t give enough of a shit to care if the plan was wise.

He just wanted to get the hell away for a moment.  Wren was always too damn astute.  

Once the torture chamber was out of their sight, Regis slumped against a wall and blindly searched through his pouches on his armor before he grabbed one of his biotic emergency injections.

“Let me, love,” Zaeed murmured, taking the injector out of his hand.  “Breathe, for one goddamn minute, and let someone else take care of something.”

He nodded, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes as Zaeed cradled his neck, pulling him forward so their foreheads were touching.  “In the neck, Zee.  It’s fine.”

“I know.  I know how to take care of a goddamn biotic,” he rumbled, his rough voice feeling like a warm blanket in the confines of the Broker’s ship.  And Regis knew he did.  Between Omega adventures in 2180… to those two years with Kaidan without Regis… Zee was a fucking blessing to have with him on board this ship.

With a practiced ease, he injected the medication–glucagon to spur an increase in his blood sugar to keep him going.  The sting was barely noticed as he kept his gaze on Zaeed, even as he carelessly tossed the empty injector on the ground.  “Now, eat something too.”

He wanted to roll his eyes, but Zaeed’s hard look prevented him from doing it.  He grabbed one of his high calorie bars and broke it in half after tearing away the wrapper, handing him part of it.  “You too.”

He took it and started shoveling it down.  Regis was more delicate about it, but he realized how hungry he had gotten while munching on the bland energy bar.  “You’d think by now they would’ve figured out how to make this shit taste good,” Regis said, wiping his mouth.

“Too busy traveling the goddamn galaxy to figure out the easy stuff.”

Regis let out a snort at his comment.  He was starting to feel… marginally better.  Not great.  Not one-hundred percent.

But better.  Progress is progress.

He wanted to stay longer… pretend that he had all the time in the world to rest with Zaeed.  The mission still loomed… and Wren had graciously allowed him this break.

It was time to return to being Shepard.

With a returned grip on his Eagle, he nodded to Zaeed, and they broke from their embrace, and headed back over to the chamber.  As they got closer, he could hear their voices echoing in the hallway–and then a scream of pain that distinctly sounded like a drell.

Shit.  He and Zaeed ran towards the entrance to the chamber, and hear a cry from T’Soni, a tearful “Feron!” before he saw Wren push her away from the console.

Was this her friend that helped steal his corpse?  

“It’s never that easy, T’Soni, it’s obvious this shit is rigged with something nasty,” Wren began, but quickly fell silent when the drell started speaking.

“You’re right.  The equipment is sensitive to tampering.” He takes a pained breath.  "This chair plugs into the Broker's info network. You have to shut off the power. Pull me out now, and my brain cooks."

T’Soni starts to scan the drell–Feron, Regis has to remind himself–with her omnitool, sounding panicked, concerned.  "Do you know where we can cut the power?"  He could use this, exploit this.

Regis stays silent for now.  As do Zaeed and Wren, who also watch with interest, all who are likely coming to the same conclusion as him.

He takes another breath, almost writhing in the chair.  How long has he been there… is this a new trap, a new little piece of bait just for T’Soni? "It won't be easy. You'll have to go to central operations."

Central Operations?  “Where the hell is Central Operations?” Regis steps forward and asks, holstering his pistol for now.  

Feron turns his head, barely, to look at him.  “You’re… it worked–aaah!” He cried out in pain as his cage sparked.  The activation of the trap must be tied to… some form of activity.  Physical?  Mental?

“Yeah, her fucking meddling worked,” Regis replied, his tone harsh.  “All I care about is where that bastard is!”

He clears his throat and slowly speaks, each word tinged with pain.  "Central operations is down the hall. You know the Shadow Broker's waiting for you, right?"

“Clearly,” Regis scoffed.  “We’ve wasted enough time here.  T’Soni, stay here with Feron and make sure no one follows us in, we cannot–”

She cuts him off, her marking scrunched on her face in anger.  “You are not leaving me behind.  This is my–”

“Your mission?” Wren stepped forward.  “You wouldn’t be in this situation if you had just let the dead die and given Regis the proper burial he wanted.  Cremated to ashes.  A headstone on Earth.  But no.  You interfered.  You got your ‘friend’ trapped and tortured for an info broker’s amusement.”

Regis looked between them, feeling both of their corona’s spike with energy.  The familiarity of Wren’s.  The invasive itch of T’Soni’s.  “Knock it off.  You said you will follow my orders, yes?  Well, my orders for you are to stand the fuck down and keep an eye on him and our backs.  If you can’t handle that, then you’re even more of a poor combatant than I thought.”

The tension was thick in the air.  Zaeed had even kicked off the wall he was leaning against, cracking his knuckles underneath his gloves.  

She let out a frustrated sigh, but her corona never quite died down..  “Alright.  You’re right.  We cannot risk all of us heading towards the Broker’s true lair.”  She unholsters her pistol and positions herself by the door.  “You’re going to come back for us?”

Regis didn’t say a goddamn word as he walked past her, his true team flanking him.  Zaeed did, however, turn back to say one last thing.  “I think you’ll know if we finished the goddamn job, T’Soni.”

– –

The constant announcements from the garbled voice of the Broker quickly faded into the background as they fought through the last few crowds of loyal agents, still willing to die for their precious Broker.

Who was he?  What was he?  How did he gain such power and influence… 

But all that was going to quickly come to an end, soon enough.  The last door to Central Operations loomed in front of them, the interface to unlock the door glowing a bright green.

He took a moment to check over his weapons, swapping over to his Valkyrie.  With a nod at Zaeed, his beloved, and Wren, his good friend, he unlocked the door with the interface and stepped forward.

A yahg was sitting at the desk, clothed in what appeared to be a yahg form of finery… perhaps… or a type of protective gear.  Not that Regis had any experience with yahg beyond the textbook basics–an intensely controlling, dominant species that killed the Council’s attempt for diplomacy–but he seemed calm.  Relaxed.  His fingers laced together on his desk, merely clearly his screen with a wave of his hand as if they were mere flies to be swat away.

How did he become the galaxy’s greatest information broker… as a pre-spaceflight species.

“Here for the drell?” He asked, steadfast as they stepped forward with their weapons raised. 

“Your information is wrong.  That’s only T’Soni’s concern,” Regis replied, his tone bored, neutral.  “I’m only here for you.  I don’t like it when there’s a price on my head.  Dead or Alive.”

“It was a mutually beneficial partnership with the Collectors.  As is yours with Cerberus, but fortunately, your arrival is convenient. The Collectors' offer still stands."

The grip he had on his gun tightened.  

“You have so much anger over her deed, despite what it gave you.  Curious.” He was just taunting them at this point, his calmness to their aggression.

“It'll be pretty hard to run a base this size with no goddamn crew.  All of them were fucking canon fodder for us," Zaeed spat, his face warped into a pissed off sneer.  They were all tired of his game, but none of them wanted to make the first move, to figure out what gambit the yahg was hiding behind his desk, behind his throne.

The yahg almost seemed to shrug.  "They're replaceable. Your arrival is barely an interruption.  But… I must say…” His blank gaze landed on Regis. “Thank you for bringing me one of your bedfellows, Shepard. His bounty from the Blue Suns is most generous.  And Miss Clarkson… Losing her will cripple your precious Alliance.”

Wren’s corona flared and burned bright, suddenly coated with dark energy.  “And losing you will cripple no one.  Regis, Zaeed, I’m done entertaining this.”

Her corona lights up around her before she twists her fingers into a powerful Warp, flinging it towards the desk. 

The yahg stands up and roars, his full height towering over them, throwing the desk up and at them, flinging it in the path of Wren’s biotics. They crash together, the desk exploding in a flash of debris.  In an instant, all Regis can think of is making sure Zaeed is safe, flashing back to Zorya and that goddamn piece of steel that nearly pinned him.  He tackles Zaeed out of the way, hitting the ground with a hard thud together.  Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Wren flash and dodge with her biotics, barely moving out of the way of the thrown parts of the desk.

They were alright.  They survived hoards of mercs.  They can survive this.

With a grunt, Regis stood up and helped Zaeed up, before rolling behind the nearest cover he saw.  Zaeed joined him quickly, just as the Broker started firing at them.  He noticed the shimmer of kinetic shields, and he started prepping an overload on his omnitool as Zaeed provided covering fire.  

“He’s got a Revenant,” Wren called out from his left, somewhere over by one of the pillars.  “Watch out.”

“Got it,” Regis yelled back, before firing off his program, watching as the Broker’s shields started to fizzle.  The yahg’s attention turned towards them, starting to head towards their position, reloading his Revenant with a roar.  A blast of biotics hit his side, another Warp from Wren.  

She was now his target.  She darted from her pillar with a flash of biotics, giving them room to strike.

Zaeed’s omnitool shined next to him as he forged his tech armor over his body, the yellow armor a familiar, welcome glow.  Dark energy burned underneath Regis’s skin, his fingers twitching into his barrier mnemonic, violet wisps surrounding him in a protective shield.  “Now or never, babe,” Zaeed murmured, firing shots over the barrier with his Black Widow, each shot a careful distraction with his dear sniper.  Always working on it.  Preparing it for that perfect shot.

Regis leapt over the barrier and summoned his omniblade, throwing off a Shockwave to stumble the yahg before slicing across his front, tearing the suit he was wearing and burning the flesh underneath.  He rolled underneath the yahg’s flailing punch, swinging blindly with his blade to catch another vulnerable spot.

He sliced against its leg, pulling out another pained roar, before a shield was forged from his omnitool, pushing him back with a surge of force.  He stumbled back, nearly falling on his ass.  Wren surged forward with her own blade, bursting forth in a blast of energy–a fucking charge–slamming into his unprotected side with a shout.  She pulled out her Piranha and started firing, the shotgun glowing red with inferno ammunition, emptying her thermal clip before dodging with her biotics once more.

Regis recovered enough to throw off another shockwave to cover her escape, stumbling the yahg again.  He made a move, flexing his talons, blood running down his suit in rivulets.  Another pained, aggressive, revitalized roar.

Zaeed whistled and pointed up to the ceiling.  Regis looked up, and finally noticed the glowing light in the middle of the arena.  Except, it wasn’t exactly light but some kind of pulsing energy, powering the room, perhaps?

With a nod back at his lover, Regis darted out of the way, Wren already safely out of the center arena.  Zaeed clenched his fist next to his head.  A signal.

A carnage shot and raw biotic power.  A common combo of theirs.  Explosive and effective.  Enough to hopefully shatter that confined energy… and get rid of the yahg for good.  

Zaeed swapped to his Mattock and fired off the secondary shot.  Regis flicked his wrist upward, violent energy surrounding him in chaotic power before shooting out, heading towards the center of the mass.  The glass cracked with Zaeed’s shot, but his dark energy shattered it, the electric power raining down on the yahg.  

“Get down!” Regis yelled, grabbing Zaeed and pulling him back behind their makeshift cover, the energy in the air growing unstable, feeling like it's going to blow.  

He didn’t dare look up to see how the yahg fared under the onslaught of power, waiting until those cries and roars died out.  A moment passed, and a blast surged through the room, the blowback nearly knocking him over even behind cover.  He listened out for Wren, but heard nothing, treating that as a sign she was safe.  Zaeed groaned next to him, slowly getting up before helping Regis up with a nod.

Wren slowly emerged from behind a pillar, the light of the room unstable with the cracked ceiling above.  

There was no sign of the yahg.  Deconstructed in an instant with the blast, he guessed.

It was over.

"Shadow Broker, this is Operative Murat. We had a momentary connection failure. Can you confirm status?"

But no, it wasn’t really over.  The screen that was originally behind the desk was lit up with various audio feeds, unnoticed by him until the end of their fight.  How long has his agents been waiting for a sign, a response?

"Operative Shora requesting update. Are we still online?"

Another voice, another sense of urgency.  

“Now or never, Wren.  This is what you fucking wanted.  Take it!” Regis yelled, spurring her into action.  She ran towards the console, and they jogged to meet her.  Her hands hovered over an interface, a keyboard built for a yahg.  With quick movements, she adapted it for human hands, before clearing her throat and steeling herself.  

"Shadow Broker, I've lost our feed. We are online and awaiting instructions."

“Now, goddamnit!” Zaeed yelled, turning around, his gun still at the ready, as if waiting for more agents to burst through the door at any moment.  

She shot him a dark look, gritting her teeth.  The voices from various agents continued to overlap, more and more waiting for some kind of response.  A chaotic symphony with no rhythm to follow.

She enlarged another interface, one that looked to be part of an audio program, and began to speak.

"This is the Shadow Broker. The situation is under control.  We experienced a power fluctuation while upgrading hardware.  It disrupted communications momentarily.  However, we are now back online. Resume standard procedures."  Her tone was calm, steady, even through the deep, warped garble that changed her voice into the one of the Broker, a curtain of anonymity.  

"I want a status report on all operations within the next solar day.  Shadow Broker out."  She closed out the interface and almost seemed to slump over the controls, her shoulders falling in relief.

“What the hell was I thinking,” she asked, looking between them.  “How can I–”

Regis stepped forward, grabbing her by the shoulders and meeting her gaze.  “You can do it because you’re Hackett’s best.  You’re my friend.  And you’ll have support.  I know damn well Nomad will help you with.  I will help you with this.”

She swallowed, shaking out of his loose grip and brushing away sweaty strands of hair from her face.  “I know.  Just needed to hear it from someone that wasn't in my head.”

She started to click through the files and feeds.  “There’s so much… no protections either. He was too confident.”

The adrenaline of the fight was starting to wear off on him, too, as he holstered his gun and let out a sigh.  “Guess we need to–”

The main entrance to the arena burst open, with both T’Soni and Feron.  Their weapons weren’t drawn, but they both headed towards them.  Feron already looked much better–the surge of power from the blast must’ve freed him from his cage.  

"Goddess of oceans.... It's… you three managed to do it,” Feron breathed out, nearly stumbling over to them.  Zaeed reached out to steady him, but T’Soni beat him to it.

T’Soni started to speak, her voice soft before quickly rising in volume, “It’s over.  It’s… finally over.  For two years… I’ve done everything in my power to reach him, mourning Feron and–” Tears began to stream down her face.

Him?  Was that what she was going to say?

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Regis said, cutting her off with a sharp bite.  “If you truly mourned me, you wouldn’t have sold me to fucking Cerberus!  Or, you would’ve informed the people I actually cared about of your crazy plan!”

The words were flowing out of him like an untamed river, no dam in sight to keep him steady.

“Sure… I gained a precious second chance because of you, but don’t think for one second, I did this for you.  I did it for me, for Wren, for the fucking Alliance.” Every word felt like a sweet release escaping his lips, but they were also sharp knives against his chest, stabbing him with every reminder of the two years that was taken away, of what her actions had trapped him into.

He could barely stand to look at her, silent and stoic even as the tears slowed.

“I wanted to use this to burn you, to find a way to do everything in my power to get my fucking life back.  But now?  I want you out of my sight.  I want you to take Feron, and leave and I swear, if you are ever in Alliance space–”

This time, Wren interrupted.  “I’ll find out.  I’ll know.  You’ve done enough meddling.  Take this chance, and leave.  Punishment is too good for you.”

Feron nodded, gripping T’Soni’s shoulder tightly.  “You’ve given me a gift, despite my own involvement.  Liara, we should go.  Good luck, Shadow Broker.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but this time, Zaeed cut her off, stepping forward with a growl.  “Not just yet.  There’s one thing I want answers on.”

One thing?

“There was something so fucking precious to Regis in his armor. He ripped it apart in your apartment just to try and find it.  You’re the piece that ties all this bullshit together,” he began, glancing over towards him.  

He paused, giving him the chance to continue for him.

He took it with a grateful nod.

His ring and dogtags have been on his mind since the fucking apartment, since seeing his armor bastardized like a shrine to a false god.  Since tearing it apart, bolt from bolt, plate from plate, hoping, searching, yearning for what was his. A ring that belonged to a father he never met.  A ring lucky enough to be safe with his mother when his father died in a shuttle accident. A ring that was going to go to Kaidan after the SR-1 mission.

A ring that was now a symbol of another Shepard lost and dead in space.

“My ring and dogtags,” Regis said, crossing his arms, allowing dark energy to crackle between his armored fingers.  “That’s what I was searching for.  Perhaps that was part of my mission all along.  To figure out why when reading the Cerberus reports on my resurrection I had no fucking armor protecting my torso.  To see if my father’s legacy died and was truly lost in space when it was meant to be kept safe.”

She stayed stoic, a contrast to how she reacted when he threw barbs at her in her office.  That felt so long ago now…  

She lifted up her arm, her omnitool interface appearing in a flash of orange. “I’ll… send you the details for a safety deposit box in Illium.  I’m sure she’ll find a way to get this information no matter what.”

Wren grinned, showing lots of teeth.  

“You’re taking a lot of risk for the Alliance by leaving it in charge with them.  A misstep, and the whole galaxy will know who helms it,” T’Soni said, holding her chin high.

Regis stepped forward, unlacing his arms and pointing a biotic-laced finger towards her.  “Was that a threat?  I doubt you would’ve been a better pick, is that what you’re saying?  A third party should run this?  I don’t trust you, T’Soni.  You broke that a long time ago, the moment I heard of your involvement with my current… employer.”

With a sigh, he dropped his arm and let his biotics fizzle out.  “I don’t think I ever trusted you.  I wanted you off my ship the moment you came aboard.”  He activated his omnitool and accepted her data transfer.  He’ll be checking out these coordinates the moment she is out of his sight..

“Don’t give us any reason to shoot down whatever shuttle you choose to escape on,” Regis finally said after closing his interface.  A war waged within him.  You know this is the right thing.  You must accept what she’s done for you.  “You gave me life.  I should also spare yours.” 

For now.  But he knows within himself he won’t go after her.  

Feron started to guide her back over to the door with a nod.  She didn’t say another word, to his surprise, only nodding one last time.  Never uttering an apology.  Never making an excuse for what she did.

Silence.

He wanted more push back.  He wanted something to latch on, to be even more angry about.

Seemed like he still had some acceptance to do.  

And he won’t feel free enough to do it until he’s back in Kaidan’s arms, with Zaeed right there with them.

When the door closed behind them, Regis peered at the message and sent it over to Wren with a nod, hoping she would notice something he didn't.

“Looks legit,” she said after a moment.  She typed on the Broker’s interface and pulled up another audio channel.  “Agent Volto, escort our Asari and Drell guests to a shuttle of your choice.  Make sure it is laced with my preferred tracking software.”

The agent replied back with an affirmative, not even questioning her orders.  She let out another breath and closed the channel.  “I need to talk to Hackett and Nomad.  Get a few more people here of ours…” She stood up and started to walk around and pace.  “So much to do.  So little time… Thank you, Regis.  You know this will give us the right edge.  Even with all the risks…”

He nodded, reaching out to shake her hand.  “And you’ve helped me get a little bit of peace back.” Her grip was strong and steady, despite everything.  Despite the new weight she had on her shoulders.  Despite the greatest challenge her infiltration and security training will face.

“It’s probably not wise for you to come back… but if there’s a way to do it with Cerberus raising their yellow flags towards me… I might be able to give you something to work with.  Some information about… anything that catches my eye or relates to our circle.” She said as she returned to the workstation.  

Regis figured that was her way of dismissing them for now, already glued to the screens.

“It also looks like there’s a hidden pathway to a docking bay nearby.  I’ve wired you the maps.  Send your Cerberus folks over there.  I’ve entered your ship signature as friendly… it’s incredible how unblocked these systems are,” she said, throwing a grin over her shoulder.

He returned it with a tired smile of his own.  “Thank you.  Need me to make those calls in your stead?”

“Hell no.  Get out of here, my friend.  We both need rest… but we all know you won’t until you confirm that message.”

Zaeed had been a steady presence this whole time next to him, but now, his hand went to his waist.  He guided him towards where Wren highlighted on the map, his omnitool display out and ready.  

There will be time to deal with all the logistics of their choice later.  An asari Spectre to contact.  Dealing with Hackett and the news that they decided to let T’Soni go.  FIguring out the next move to clear his name.

Figuring out what this will mean for the Alliance and their never forgotten Reaper threat.

“I’ve sent EDI a message.  She’ll be here to pick us up soon,” he said as they passed through the narrow corridor that led to a small docking bay.  Hell, it was large enough for the Normandy to potentially dock, but the shuttle would be a better option to navigate through the storms.  They were alone, only a few mechs stationed around for maintenance. 

And Regis finally let himself rest, just for a moment, as Zaeed brought him in his arms.

He ignored the wetness that started to gather around his eyes.  Were they from relief?  Anger?  Desperation?

Regis didn’t know.  And frankly, he never wanted to know.

– –

There would be time to give an unofficial report later.  He gave an update to his crew that his personal mission was dealt with and left it at that.  By the look Samara gave him, rising up from her meditative stance in cargo where she greeted them, she knew what they did.

He’s sure they all know.  Or will know, in time.  

Before resting, taking a moment to begin his post-battle rituals, he sends the coordinates to EDI and asks her to plot another course back to Illium.

A moment passed, and he got a response back from her, and alongside it, a question from Moreau about the trip back.

He sent a quick message back/

RS: One last part of my mission.  That’s all.

Muting his omnitool, he finally got to work.

His steps to remove his armor were methodical, once in his cabin.  Zaeed had left him temporarily to remove his own gear, tend to his rituals before joining him.  A typical occurrence, with the limited space in his cabin.  But he wanted him with him now.  

Taking off his weapons, he placed them under his desk for now in a case designed for transport.  His armor to be put away later, strewn about on the floor neck to his couch, leaving him in his undersuit as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

Alone until Zaeed comes back up from his corner of the ship.

He sent Kaidan a quick vid request, and it was answered quickly.

His concerned face appeared on the screen, his hair mussed.  He looked like he had just woken up… or been up ages without sleep.

“We did it,” Regis said.  “Broker is ours now.”

Kaidan visibly relaxed, letting out a sigh of relief of his own, running a hand through his hair.  “I never doubted you.  But… that didn’t mean I was worried sick.  Where’s Zee?  I guess Wren is… lingering?”

He nodded.  “She’s… Dealing with the responsibility as about as well as I expected.  Zee’s doing his post combat rituals.  I just… needed to talk to someone.”

Kaidan’s eyebrows furrowed, but he smiled all the same.  “Well, I’m definitely someone.  What… happened with T’Soni?”

Regis swallowed.  “I ended up letting her go in the end.  She’s… not worth it anymore. We won and I got coordinates for something that I hope is my father’s ring.”

“What?” Kaidan cleared his throat after letting out a surprised sound.  “Hold on.  She was–holding it this whole time?  I couldn’t keep the image of your armor in her apartment out of my head and now–” He shook his head, letting out a breath.  “I guess that’s where you are heading now?”

“I am.  A bank in Illium.  And then… I can finally rest.”  The doors to his cabin opened, and he quickly waved Zaeed over.  He was wearing Regis’s N7 hoodie and a pair of sweats, and his hand was bandaged–shit, did he miss that.

“Talkin’ to Kaid without me?  Shame on you, love,” Zaeed said with a chuckle, joining him on the bed and pulling Regis into his side. “Hey baby.”  He rested his head on his shoulder, closing his eyes briefly, inhaling his scent.  They both needed a shower, smelling like sweat, smoke, and gun oil.  But they were safe and whole.  All that mattered, right now.

“Hey yourself.” Kaidan grinned, the earlier worry almost completely gone from his face.  “I love you both.  And I’m happy to hear that things seemed to work out.  So, tell me, how the hell did you manage to take down a galactic superpower–”

– –

At some point during the call, Regis must’ve dosed off, finding himself under the covers while Zaeed was nowhere to be found at first–until he caught him scrolling on a datapad on the couch.  “Almost to Illium, if you want to hop in the shower,” he said, raising up a glass of… something at him in greeting. "Get some good rest?"

“Celebrating and showering without me?” He let out a yawn while chuckling.  “Chakwas hasn’t tried to check on us, yet?”

“Told her it could wait until after our last errand.  Mentioned your ring–figured she knew about it.  She’s allowing it.” He flexed his bandaged hand.  “Ended up burning through my goddamn glove a little.  And a few bruises and cuts.  The usual.”

Regis couldn’t stop the frown, but it quickly gave way to a groan as he sat up.  “Shit, yeah, I’m going to need some rest.”

“Saw some bruises on your chest.  Miraculously free of cuts.  Something to be said about that skin of yours,” he said, finishing off his glass of what was probably whiskey now that he got a better look at it. He’ll pass on that kind of celebration.

He got up and slowly walked over to Zaeed, leaning down for a quick kiss, before stripping out of his underwear--Zaeed even stripped him down? How tired was he?--and stepping in the shower.  He was painted in a few blooming bruises across his chest.  Turning around revealed more on his back and an ache that rattled through his body, the hot water of the shower only providing minute relief.

He hurried through his motions, scrubbing his skin and his scalp, before stepping out and working on hair.  Putting in a bit of gel and leave-in.  Drying it with his hair dryer.  Usual motions and normalcy.

His chest tightened when he thought about their destination.  If the ring wasn’t there–

He can’t think like that right now.

Leaving the towel on the rack, he exited the bathroom completely bare, giving Zaeed a bit of a show and rolling his eyes at the whistle he let out.  “Shit, that looks fucking painful.  Need me to call Chakwas for a pick me up?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks love,” Regis said, reaching in his drawers for his underwear, then his socks, and then his N7 officer styled uniform.  Black pants and boots.  A high-necked jacket with red detailing.  Black and red sleeves.  A proud N7 logo.

Something that keeps him safe and secure while under the hexagon’s reign.

He felt better as he pulled on the gloves, zipping up the jacket, becoming the Commander once more.

“You don’t need to act so strong for me.” He scoffed.

“For this, I must.”

Zaeed opened his mouth to reply, frowning, but--

“Commander, we are preparing to dock at Illium.  Will this be a short trip?  I’ll alert the crew accordingly.” EDI’s voice echoed through the cabin, interrupting them.

“Shouldn’t take but more than a couple of hours, if that.  And then… we’ll fuel up and prepare to head to Haestrom for our final dossier.”

Tali.  What would she have thought of all this?

“Understood, Commander.”

He reached out to help Zaeed up from the couch, in which he proceeded to lightly push him up against the wall and kiss him soundly, his tongue exploring his mouth before pulling apart with a groan.  “Much better.  Now we’re ready.”

Regis closed the gap between them quickly and briefly, a much sweeter and chaste kiss.  “It’s always better when I’m with you.”

“You fucking know it.”

– –

The asari teller wasn’t even surprised to see a human requesting the box, nor providing the right security keys to match theirs, once inside one of the rooms where the small vaults were kept.

It was a modest one, barely enough to store a few valuables.  But enough… to when it popped open, he immediately saw the prize.

Two dog tags, beat up and warped.  And a ring, shined and polished and perfect as he remembered.  Tree branch engravings without a chip.  No sign of the hell the rest of the piece went through…

He yanked it out of the box before cradling it in his hands, running his thumb over the engraving over and over, thinking of the tattoo that matched it on his right arm, his yggdrasil tree.

The teller asked if he needed anything else, and he shook his head, slowly walking out of the room where Zaeed was waiting in the lobby.

His face must’ve said all it needed, because he met him halfway with a hug.

Finally whole once more.  Finally Regis Lucian Shepard.  

And finally with the prize to be split between Kaidan and Zaeed once this fucking mission was over.  For now, it was safe against his heart, a chain that needed repair and changing, dogtags that needed to be replaced… but it was his and it was finally back where it belonged.

And if Zaeed’s hand went to his chest once back on the ship and in private, feeling it underneath his fingers, likely knowing who that ring is going to one day… Regis didn't comment on it one bit.

RS: The ring is home, Kaidan.  And soon, it will be home with you and Zee.  I promise.

A promise he hoped he wouldn’t break, this time.

KA: I'm so happy to hear that. And I know. I await the day eagerly when you both are back in my arms.

[soulfungai]

Random TWST OC lore? Yup.

Lara…she’s one of the OC’s with a darker past in my stories. Please beware! Also, trigger warnings below. Please read them. Rielle and Fran are also in this because they are important to her story.

TRIGGER WARNING

SA(not detailed), people getting eaten alive(not detailed), su1c1d3

———

Full Name: Lara Kai

School: RSA

Favourite Food: Shrimp

Pastime: Roaming the sea for corals, cleaning the sea, protecting Rielle, helping Fran, being mean, attacking(?) people

Family: Mother(deceased), Father(deceased), Laya(sister, deceased), Lana(sister, deceased)

Role: Dormhead protector

Species: Eelion

[Dormhead protector is a made up role!]

———

Facts

Lara specifically avoids people who talk about Eelions. She fears that they are just like the merpeople of the past. Though she hopes not.

Lara cares a lot about Fran, and kind of bullies the twins in a friendly way.

Lara never had to learn how to walk, only how to get rid of/hide her tail and fins.

Lara doesn’t go back anywhere when it’s the holidays and stay with either the tweels, Azul, Rielle, or Fran.

Lara doesn’t have family, she used to. She’s basically almost going to go extinct and is pulling a really risky move (she knows) by choosing to go on land.

Lara has a fear of humans.

Has a lot of gold on her school uniform (not as much as Kamisha)

———

Backstory

Lara lived a pretty peaceful life up until she she realised that her species weren’t exactly friends with merpeople. Since Eelions looked quite similar to humans, just with fins and their bodies tinted to be bluer, they also had eel tails but they had limbs just like humans. They were strange and weird looking to merpeople, so Eelions separated with merpeople.

Lara didn’t have much friends, though she had one. This one friend however was captured by a human while she and Lara were hunting for shrimp and other things to ear, Lara’s mother always warned her when hunting to be weary of her surroundings. To make sure that no boat were around or they weren’t to close to the surface, this incident only made Lara’s fear of the surface grow.

Eventually, however, her life would be completely destroyed. Lara, and her whole kingdom and civilisation, which wasn’t all that big would be captured. And the truth about what happened to captured eelions destroyed Lara’s perspective on humans. Lara, and the rest of her family were captured and taken to the surface.

Lara found the truth disgusting, eelions were rare but instead of being experimented on or researched about, humans found them “tasty”. So, Lara watched one by one as all of her family were turned into cooked meals. However, Lara learned self-defence and was able to defend herself from these humans, so they sold her off instead.

Lara was sold to someone and SA’d. For years this would go on before a group comes to save Lara from the terrible life she was living, Lara got her revenge and took down the human group for murdering all her fellow eelions. Making her the only survivor.

Lara then read “The Little Mermaid”. The tale about Ariel, which shouldn’t be someone new to you guys. Lara found Ariel a very kind and loving person, and although she supported Ariel’s dreams in becoming a human, she felt a weird destain for the prince she was married to. Lara learned not all humans are bad, and that she just ran into cruel people. However, her fear of humans were not eased. Not until she chose to go to RSA.

People told her she’d “fit better in NRC” but Lara still chose to join RSA. That’s when she met Rielle, and Fran. She became close friends with the two and understood Rielle’s sadness. Lara became a real friend to Rielle and protected him from fake ones. She would call them out if she saw it necessary, however if it got really bad she would just straight up attack them.

Lara had another friend who was a koikoi (mermaid but koi fish.), she lost her to su1c1d3 which made Lara really depressed for a while.

Lara helped ease Fran’s anxiety and tried her best to help him out. She took on the role of protecting Rielle and when she found out about his admiration for Azul, she decided to take a visit and meet this…so called fish mafia.

———

Relationships

Rielle

Rielle was the first person she met in RSA and was quite fond of him. Even telling him he reminded her of Ariel, and even told him the whole story.

Not once did Lara ever let it slip past her whenever someone was using or abusing Rielle’s kindness and made sure that they knew they were a terrible person.

Lara gives him a lot of gifts to comfort him and joins him in his interests.

Personal therapist for Rielle.

Lara can get annoyed with Rielle sometimes, but never shows it.

He doesn’t know about her past, or her fear of humans until she overblots.

Tweels

Absolutely made fun of them when she first saw them. She couldn’t understand why they were trying so hard to be the fish mafia, they weren’t even that scary.

They have gotten on her nerves a few times which sometimes ended in her beating them up. However it doesn’t affect their health to much.

Forced them to try and talk to Fran, she accidentally started a new friendship and the Tweels absolutely love Fran and protect him.

Personal therapist for the two twins.

Find out about her past when she overblots, got a few hints about her fear of humans before.

Fran

Best friend/he has a crush on her

Helped ease his social anxiety.

Gifts him sweets all the time and sometimes over gives him.

Fran thanked her a lot after he made friends with the tweels.

Personal therapist

Has no idea about her fear of humans or her past until she OB

Azul

Protects Azul often, and get’s pretty upset whenever someone bullies him. When he told her what happened in the past Lara looked like she was about to explode. She asked them where they were.

She lets him win all the time just so that he doesn’t feel bad about himself.

Is legitimately better at him in everything.

She got mad when Azul treated Rielle pretty badly and kind of embarrassed him by confronting him in front of NRC and RSA. She thought it wouldn’t do much but he apologised to Rielle later on.

Personal therapist.

He always had a feeling she went through stuff, he was horrified when she OB’d because it just showed that it was a lot worse then what he was expecting.

She stills cares about all of them.

———

Rielle and Fran belong to @yaoyaobae ! Ask me to take it down if ur not comfortable.

Lara Kai (ララカイ)

Lara belongs to me, and the rest belong to TWST.

RIP eelions.

[fighterkimburgess]

Lover

Summary: work, therapy, home. Kim’s got a routine again. But there’s one thing missing from it all.

Warnings: mentions of Kim’s previous canonical trauma, explicit discussions of the aftermath of a miscarriage.

—

The oversized hoodie Kim kept in the trunk of the car needed to be washed, the scent that calmed her when she was talking about everything that happened two years before nearly gone. But she held the cuffs to her nose and inhaled deeply, a tiny bit of Adam’s aftershave still clinging to it.

“Did anything change when you went back to work after the miscarriage?”

“Everything.” In not so many words she explained what the days in between were like. Her refusal to have a D&C, instead naturally dealing with it. Punishing herself by not taking painkillers because she had killed her child.

Except she hadn’t. She hadn’t killed their baby. She’d fought to protect three lives that night and two had made it out alive. It was awful and tragic but it wasn’t her fault. And that’s what she was learning.

It wasn’t her fault Kent targeted her that night. It was her fault she didn’t have her window up, but if she hadn’t then she’d probably have been dead when Adam arrived at the scene from a bullet to her head. It wasn’t her fault Walton shot her. It was her will to live that kept her alive. It was not letting Makayla lose another mother. It was wanting to live.

It was wanting Adam again.

She could recognise that now. There was enough time and space and she’d lived with Adam for longer than they’d been engaged at this point. She’d lived with him for longer than their entire romantic relationship at this point. Nearly two years of joint bedtime stories, of anguish when Mack was taken and joy when she returned. Of ice skating and bird watching and snowman building.

And somewhere along the way Kim had fallen back in love with him again. Adam had become the man she knew he could be. The man he wanted to be. And he’d done it himself. He’d grown up and bought them a goddamn house so Mack could live the life they wanted for her. He was a dad. He was a damn good cop and if she could take back those words from two years before and make herself ask how he was before what he did she’d do it in a heartbeat.

He made her smile. He made her laugh. He made Makayla laugh, telling her stories about the first time he and Kim did patrol together, wiggling his hips like Kim taught him. He constantly had painted nails and more than once had stared down a suspect who made a comment before saying “my daughter did them for me.” He was a good man and their daughters father and she didn’t know how to tell him she wanted to try again. If he even felt the same way.

In the car on the way home her phone buzzed, Mouse appearing on the car screen. She answered.

“Hey, I’m driving home so I’ll warn you.”

“Home to Mack and Adam?”

“Yeah.” It was quiet for a minute, Kim hearing the older man think. Their friendship was formed through Platt adopting them both, and now that Mouse was stateside again they talked at least once a week. He’d settled in Florida, happy and healthy and working for a tech company down there.

“You’re in love with him.”

“I am. I’m in love with Adam Ruzek.” It was the first time she’d said it out loud since she’d told Erin all those years before.

“Just gotta tell him now. When are you home?”

“Right now.” She pulled up outside the house, Mouse mumbling for a second.

“Tell him, Kimberly. Or Trudy will and we both know how that is. I’ll talk to you next week, tell Mack we’ll FaceTime soon?”

“Of course.”

As soon as she got inside it was the usual evening routine. Makayla greeted her with a hug, Kim hugging her back before sitting down to dinner. Adam’s cooking was improving, today was shrimp pasta with a lemon sauce. Mack wanted just garlic instead and he had her pasta separate to await her approval, garlic bread high on the plate.

“How was skating?” Kim asked, Mack grinning.

“It was so much fun! Jordan taught me to hip check him and I got him! Uncle Kevin and Dad took a video.”

“Yeah?” The Dad didn’t go unnoticed, nor did the way Adam’s eyes shone as Mack continued to talk about doing math homework. “And for science we need to count the birds we see and I told Mrs Young that my dad built us a bird feeder so I’m gonna email a photo so she can see it and maybe we build one in school too.”

She was energetic, an extra story before bed. Soon Makayla would be too old for her parents to read to her each night, but now Kim and Adam were taking full advantage and reading chapters of Percy Jackson to her. It was everything. But Makayla was asleep and she closed the door gently, going out to the living room.

Adam had two glasses of soda on the table waiting for them, a bowl of popcorn in the middle. The tv was waiting to press play on Death in Paradise, and Kim curled up on the couch. Ever since her therapist has advised stopping drinking, Adam had been sober with her. He didn’t have a drink at his poker nights even. It was one of the many ways he showed he loved her.

“Press play?” They watched the familiar scene play out, the dead body found before calypso music played and Adam shimmied around on the couch to the theme tune to make her laugh. He leaned over her to get a handful of popcorn and that’s when she knew.

She sat forward and pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth, not sure what to expect. His head turned and fully kissed her, Kim pulling him to her and deepening the kiss. Finally they separated, but breathing deeply and smiling.

“I love you.” Kim spoke first. “I love you and I love our family and I want us. I want us together. As long as you do?” Her words got softer as she finished speaking. 

“I love you too. And yes. All of it.”

The next morning Kim woke to Makayla shaking her arm, Kim blinking rapidly to wake.

“Everything ok?” She asked, Mack shaking her head.

“Dads not in his room!”

“I’m right here, kiddo. What’s up?”

Their daughter crawled into bed with them for Saturday morning cartoons and cuddles before Adam got dressed to get their breakfast, kissing Kim goodbye as he left. Her heart was full, and she couldn’t help but grin as she and Mack got the table ready for the weekend ahead.

She may not be healed, she may not fully heal, but she was happy and in love and what else could she want?

[thepeonysbackup]

◇Dry Humping◇

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: Gumbo, a soup that brings out more then just the taste of its ingredients, but desire from within from a source only taste can trigger. A broth that acts as a honey sculpted cup that holds the aphrodisiac to the minds most fondest of memories. Affection. That is its purest name.

Tags: Mdni, boring plot, dub con (She ultimately enjoys it), dry humping, something I came up with on the spot.

Word count: 2.2k (not proofread)

Request: Yes/No

Part two at: Meal Time

As you stirred the ladel within the large deep pot from your place at the stove, atop your stool with your apron. You gently leaned over the pot as steam rose, inhaling the heated air so you could smell your progress, it was daring to graze the mark of heavenly, much to your excitement as you shifted to finish chopping up the vegetables that were set up on a chopping board on the off side of the stove as the radio played soft jazz in the background.

Being the kind and sweet little vixen you were, you thought you'd do the hotel a favor by cooking the rest of the staff a meal. Taking care to check on the individuals before you went all in on your choice. Angel wanted Asian food, claiming that he'd seen one of the girls at his work snacking on rice balls and wanted some too. Husk said he'd been craving seafood, groaning about how none of the places near the hotel had anything good to sell. Vaggie was bias, 'okay with whatever was cooking in your noggin' in her own words while Charlie urged you to surprise her with excited squeal. Nifty had ended up finding you before you could her, and then handed you a bag of maggots that were still very much alive and asked for a paste. Creepy, but you said okay before actually thinking it through. Pentious had taken a rather long while of thinking before he settled on soup, he wanted a tomato soup. That left you puzzled at what you could possibly make for everyone to equally enjoy, because fusing palletts with rices and seafood was a breeze, but adding a soup into the mix? Oh dear, your idea was becoming difficult to come into flourishan as you trekked down the halls of the hotel to locate the facility manager and overlord whom was currently residing in his pocket dimension like room, which never seemed to stay in a singular one of them, but shift everytime he wanted it moved. So it was a game of chance, knocking on every door you knew as vacant before finally having one opened by the smiling radio demon. He held his cane in the same hand that he had for the door, the other arm folded behind him as he tilted his head to the right in question down at you. "A meal, you say? My, I was going out this evening but I must ask what it is!" He had enthusiastically voiced through his static, but when you said you hadn't decided yet because of how different everyone's cravings were he seemed interested in also giving an option to you. "You always choose Jambalaya, why not another meal?" You complained while thinking of what you could do with all these choices. "I'm afraid it's Jambalaya, my dear. Unless you have any access to some truly delicious venison!" He chuckled out, lightly twirling his cane in his hand as he tapped it on the ground so he could lean his chin on the handle. This was so unfair, what could you possibly make that would—

"Wait, Jambalaya- Jambalaya, Cajun‐ Cajun means that rice, shrimp and- Yes, wait, hold on- Soup- Tomatoes- Vegetables and add extra meat like chicken and venison—" You babbled quickly aloud, drawing Alastors attention a bit more. He cocked a brow at you, lips thinning out as he grinned at your unintelligible banter, "My Dear, you must speak up. I simply can't understand anything when you mumble." He straightened himself up so he could examine his nails as you let out an excited noise, in all fairness it was so sudden that he had every right to tense up as you grabbed his arms suddenly in a tight grasp so you could pull him towards you, "You're a Genius Al, thank you!" You beamed, bouncyness following your stride as you began to quickly make your way back down the hallway to the stairs after letting him go like you hadn't even realized that his static was buzzing like a hornet around the two of you. You were something alright.

As you had just finished throwing the rest of the vegetables into the pot, you pulled out the spices from the lazy susan on the counter, choosing the more mild spices and only about four drops of tabasco before the basil and parsley were dashed in on top. Now the lid was placed, holding in the mouth watering scents that were to come later when they were ready. The music continued, your figure bopping gently around the kitchen as you began to get the plates ready with the rice, plopping large scoops into the bowls so you could hallow them out by pressed them inward with the bottom of the ladel you were using. At the bottom of each of the rice bowls you'd made, you added thoroughly cooked slices of venison to everyone's except Al's and Niftys. Those two were getting their own special snacks added in, the maniacs. Al's bowl got raw, uncooked deer meat at the bottom instead that and a few on a plate below his bowl that had the maggot paste for the side dip. Niftys maggot paste was poured into her bowl and topped with raw shrimp and then the cooked venison. After all of them were prepped, you picked up a rag and wiped your forehead because all you had to do was wait just a bit longer.

"Ah, so you're really cooking. I would have assumed the hotel would be in flames if anyone else were to take a chance in this room, of course Nifty can make some delicious demon spik."

"Haha, very funny Al." Your back was facing the radio demon, ears on alert as his footsteps slowly but casually drew him over to your bubbling pot, inhaling while lightly using his hand to bring the scent of the steam rising from the sides of the lid. He made a delighted noise, static almost completely gone as his claws grasped the handle of the lid and tugged it off, steam bursting upwards to show the contents within. “Well, this sure isn't Jambalaya but by good golly it's gumbo! How clever of you, little darling!” He spoke loudly, amused and seemingly with a truly gleeful smile on his face as his other hand grabbed your waist to pull you near him as he examined your work, nose catching whiff of a different scent near as well. “And if my nose doesn't deceive me," He inhaled deeply near your ear, nose just barely grazing your cheek as he leaned further up until his head was resting above yours, using his height to allow himself to break character for a moment, his eyes turning wide with dials fixed in the center as blood stains began to run down his chin from how hard he was grinning,

"₮Ⱨ₳₮ ĐɆⱠɆ₵₮₳฿ⱠɆ ₴₵Ɇ₦₮ ł₴ VɆ₦ł₴Ø₦.."

The harsh sound of his static made you wince, body tensed further, “Yes, I thought it would be a nice addition, the meats flavor is a bit different and so when you eat it with the broth i-it tastes mildly spicier then without it.” His voice buzzed, a satisfied noise leaving him as he side stepped around you, now back to his normal cheery grin as he took hold of one of the raw slabs of venison and dangled it above his mouth before slowly opening his jaws like a snake threatening to attack. Then, with a swift move, he clamped down on the thin piece of meat and tore it out of his hand in a single whip of her head to the side. “Truly a marvelous snack you've provided here, darling doe.” His nicknames were slowly progressing to more dearing comparisons, making you flush as you lifted you ladel and placed it back into the pot to stir it, but not before you climbed back onto your stool to do so.

-

Time went by as you cooked, Alastor remaining hovering with his quiet buzz of static as he enjoyed the meat that you had to offer, the fact that you had taken so much time just to get everything you had needed for him making him feel as though he was more important, even if you were making dinner for everyone. His eyes held true to your figure, that smile that forever kept its place on his face widening as he slowly lost himself in thought as he observed your lips lightly shy away from the utensil you'd pulled from the hot boil to get a taste of the broth, the contents being too hot to consume so suddenly before you blew on it. He reveled in the way you moaned at the creamy liquid, eyes shutting blissfully as a hand came to cover your lips like it would hide the long trickle of the broth from his sight. No, he saw it, and how he craved to be the very thing that would lick the taste off you, the tongue that would replace your own that darted so quickly out to take the drop for itself. That, nostalgic.. that warm and soft, dare he say heavenly taste from your lips, from your tongue. Alastors static began to grow in volume, his body inching closer to yours on the stool as he felt a growing pain from below at your half bent over form over the stovetop. “Do you often leave yourself so openly vulnerable to just anybody.. or… Am I just lucky?” He asked, suddenly right against your ear from behind, both hands atop each of yours as his physique pressed you into the dangerously hot Kitchenware. “What?-” You had asked, bewildered at the sudden change in atmosphere the room was in just moments ago. 

Alastor hadn't really heard you, ears pressing back into his head as he pressed his crotch against the plush softness of your ruffled skirt, lightly moving the fabric of his bulge against your rear in slow rolls of his hips. It was sudden, hesitant almost, as if Al hadn't been planning for this to happen whatsoever. “I asked you a question, hmpf- d-dearest..” He hushed against the back of your neck, nipping it with his teeth with a hiss, his hands that had yours pinned down gripping harder to keep you in place as the stretchy fabric of your skirt rode up on your ass at the force used in his motions. The friction had you boggled in the brain, a few noises of concerned pleasure rising up into your throat as you thought hard about his question. “Ahn- N—no-..” She answered, earning a tut from the overlord behind her, the fabric of your panties were getting bunched up and pulled down about half way, “That's not a proper answer, now is it Mon Cher?” A little cry escaped you, the feeling of his pants rough texture against your soft petals making tears of overstimulation well in your big doe eyes. “I-I— I don't know- I can't- Ouu- Fuck!-” Alastor hushed you, a hand freeing one of yours so his could trail up to your neck so it could wrap around it in a firm grip. Your pretty face being cranned upwards and back so he could see the fucked out blissful expression on your face as your own hand reeled back to hold fast against his hip, a last attempt to push him away being futile as his movements became more spurred by you noises, faster and faster. "Such vulgarity," He groaned into your ear, breath hot and growling excitedly, "Speak again, speak to me. Tell me how you crave more, Mon Cher-" Your voice called to him, his name slipping past your lips like a hymn, a lament, a song.

Oh, how he adored your voice, strained and laced with need.

How he desired more as the coil in his mind snapped, antlers growing in size as he hunched over and into your back, head lightly using you as stability while his demonic form grew, long arms and gnarly claws digging into your clothes enough to tear the flesh, not only fabric. The dials of his eyes spun, his legs buckling as your bare cunts juices flowed lazily down his front, the warmth he felt as he released as well pulling a guttural growl from his throat as the both of you eased into a slower more controlled pace.

This hadn't gone as planned, but he sure as hell wasn't complaining.

[sunfish-studies]

Moonrise

✄・・・ Feathery Ink [Karasuno Manager Series]

➜ Pairing: Karasuno x Manager! Reader

➜ Warning: none

➜ Notes: This is a separate series from Crisp Leaves. Similar to Crisp Leaves, manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall. This is just my appreciation towards tall girls, you guys are amazing.

Previous:  ‹ Greed › | Next:  ‹ Illusionary Hero ›

↷ SUMMARY ↶

It’s finally summer vacation training camp!

After the fight, Hinata and Kageyama weren’t really talking to each other–Coach Ukai even separated them during practice, Hinata in team B while Kageyama in the other. When practice was over, Kageyama was working on his tosses with Yachi’s help while Hinata drive elsewhere with his bike to practice on his own.

“Ah, he’s with my grandpa.” You asked where on earth did Hinata go, and that’s your answer from Coach Ukai. Apparently, Hinata was training with the previous Coach Ukai at their home. That left you with managerial duties and some extras like buying supplies for the training camp.

The injury you received of course was noticeable by the team–it almost send both Tanaka and Nishinoya into rampage, but you quickly said it’s not a problem and it would heal in no time. While you could make up some excuse for Daichi, Sugawara, and Ennoshita, you couldn’t with Shimizu. With a stern look from, you finally spilled the beans and she promised not to tell anyone.

While Kageyama wasn’t talking to Hinata, he’s definitely talking to you more now–along with walking you home if you chose to stay at practice longer. With that, you learn more about him and how he’s undoubtedly a volley ball dork through and through.

The time you had to depart from school to Tokyo for the training camp at night, he offered to picked up from your house so you could walk together to school.

“C-can I sit next to you…?” the raven-haired boy asked. Of course, you agreed wholeheartedly since Yachi will be sitting next to Shimizu and sitting alone didn’t seem to be fun. At first, you talked about some mundane things and watched a few videos saved in your phone before falling asleep leaning to each other.

“KAGEYAMA!!”

“HOW DARE YOU STEAL A HEADSTART!”

And it incurred the wrath of both Tanaka and Nishinoya when they realized. Thankfully, Ennoshita was quick to shut them up by slapping them on the head and Daichi glared at them menacingly for causing a ruckus.

.

.

“Well, the grand guest finally arrived,” when you carried the big bag filled with your essentials outside the bus, it was immediately gone from your hands. Kuroo plucked it from your grip so he could carry it instead, sending you a small smile.

“Kuroo-san, it’s been a while.” Greeting the older boy, you stepped to the ground.

“It’s nice knowing you stick to your promise,”

“Well, it’s impossible for me to not join the training camp. And,” you looked up to the building upon the stairs. When it was in Nekoma High School before, this time training camp was held at different area–however, you didn’t complain because even during summer, the place was cool with many trees surrounding and breeze swept by. “Why are we in a different place? I thought it’s being held only in one place.”

Kuroo hummed. “It’s a tradition for training camp during summer vacation happened in Shinzen. This place is cool, so it’s great. Why? You wanted to be cooked under the sun instead?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Hinata! Did you grow any taller!? Oh! Otohaku-chan!! You’re looking pretty as always!!”

“Lev, shut up.” Kenma scolded.

.

.

“[NAME]-CHAN!! Make sure to cheer for me, alright!!”

“She won’t, Bokuto-san. And please don’t call her by her first name when she didn’t mention you could.”

Thank goodness, Akaashi had a say because you didn’t know how to reply that without wanting to upset Bokuto in the process. The first match was Karasuno against Fukurodani and it didn’t go well–your team splendidly didn’t sync because everyone went to try the new moves their practicing, resulting they had to take a new kind of penalty.

Along with Yachi, you watch as everyone sprinting uphill. And it didn’t happen only one time, every time they lost a match, they had to do one before walking down and downing their drinks. It went until the last practice–which they splendidly managed to lost.

“Hitoka-chan, could you look over Kageyama-kun and Hinata-kun in my place,” you whispered to your best friend, referring to the duo who’s clearly itching for practice but couldn’t exactly say it clearly as they still in bad terms with each other.

“Yeah! I was thinking about that too!” the two of you nodded in determination.

“Uhm, [Name]-san,” Yamaguchi called out to you, rubbing his nape sheepishly. “I want to practice serve, could you watch over?”

Smiling you nodded, “Sure Yamaguchi-kun! Let me get my notes first, okay?”

The taller boy blinked in confusion. “Eh? Notes? What for?”

“To look over your progress overall,” you kneeled down to put on your outdoor shoes. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

“O-oh, okay.” Yamaguchi could only reply that as he didn’t know how exactly–he knew he shouldn’t be flustered or feeling special, but he couldn’t help to feel warmth bloom in his chest. He knew you were an attentive person, and it’s nice to know that applied to everyone on the team even though you’re mostly stick with Kageyama, Hinata, or Yachi.

Jogging towards the sleeping quarters, you could’ve arrived faster to pick up your notebook if Bokuto’s call didn’t halt you from doing so.

“OOH!! [NAME]-CHAN!!” he called out from the third gym. You noticed that he wasn’t alone, Kuroo and Akaashi’s also there and surprisingly Tsukishima. From that, you concluded that Kuroo must have something to do with it–probably taunting the blonde into joining. “Could you throw us some balls!?”

“Eh?” you blinked. “But, I have to get some notes for practice-“

“Just a few, come on!” Bokuto didn’t even give you a chance to explain–instead, he dragged you by the wrist.

So here you were, arranging an apology speech for Yamaguchi while throwing some balls for Akaashi to set. That and giving Lev some glances to check if he’s still alive or not on the floor. The setter already apologized to you in Bokuto’s place, but you immediately dismissed it since you didn’t mind either.

“Geh!? Otohaku-chan!?” Lev must be exhausted seeing as he barely noticed you’re in the same area.

It amazed you on how Bokuto still managed to kill the spikes viciously after series of practice match all day–his stamina is top-notch, nothing less from one of the best players in the country. Watching Bokuto’s spikes meaning also watching Tsukishima tried to block them.

Not once did he managed to successfully shut one out, but with Kuroo’s finally joining the cross was killed almost in an instant. While Bokuto is a formidable opponent in attacking, then Kuroo would be terrifying in defense. No wonder Coach Ukai was making him a great example for a solid blocker.

Tsukishima is indeed smart and calm as he read the opponent’s movement, but,

“Your blocks are pretty weak.” You flinched as Bokuto blurted out what you had in mind regarding Tsukishima’s block–and it sure pissed the taller blonde off. “Your arms are so frail that I’m scared I’m gonna break them. You need to stop the ball like you mean it!”

“I’m still a growing boy!” Tsukishima replied, clearly trying to hide his annoyance. “I’ve just started gaining muscles and getting taller!”

“Talk like that, and the little shrimp is gonna hog all the glory.” Kuroo remarked. “You guys play the same position, right?”

Ouch, you couldn’t help but thought. That hits the sore spot.

“I don’t think it can be helped,” Tsukishima said with a smile after a few seconds of silence. “The difference in natural talent between me and Hinata is too great.”

Before Kuroo could argue, the players of Nekoma began piling into the gym and Tsukishima finally managed to excuse himself successfully this time.

“Looks like you stepped on a mine, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi commented.

“You pissed him off,” Bokuto dragged. “At long last, Kuroo-kun, the master of provocation, has failed.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have thought that.” The black-haired captain sighed.

“Thought what?” Bokuto questioned.

“Karasuno’s shrimp is definitely strange and a threat, but in terms of technique and experience he’s like a baby bird. Plus, he’s really short. I never would’ve thought guy with glasses, who’s far taller and much smarter, wouldn’t only think they’re not equal but actually think the shrimp is above his level.”

Sighing for the second time, he rubbed the back of his head before giving you an apologetic look. “Sorry, I pissed off your middle blocker.”

“I don’t think you pissed him off,” you couldn’t exactly say that it’s fine because it’s not your place to do so. “But you did hit a sore spot, Kuroo-san.”

“Otohaku-san, shouldn’t you get going? We’ve hold you long enough from you whatever you want to do.” Akaashi reminded.

“That’s right, then I’ll excuse myself.” You bowed down and walked towards the exit–you immediately retrieve your note before finally helping Yamaguchi with his serves after being held for some time.

.

.

The next day, you’re helping Eri, Kaori, and Yukie cutting watermelons given by the parents from Shinzen High School. Surely, on this hot summer, sweet and cool watermelons would make anyone’s mouth began watering. It was also a great short break for the boys as they enjoy the watermelon while sitting on the grassy hill beside the gym.

“Do you want extras, senpai?” and just like other managers, you distributed the watermelons while asking if the boys wanted seconds or not. This time, you’re offering a few that’s still on your tray to Tanaka, Daichi, and Asahi.

“Ooh, don’t mind if I do, [Name]-chan!” Tanaka reached out for another slice.

“Me too,” after him, Daichi also took a slice from your tray.

“I’m okay with mine for now,” Asahi politely rejected your offer. “How about you eat some too? It’s quite a hot day.”

“I’ll go it after everyone’s seconds are done,” you remarked, intending to circle around the separate crowds for the nth time but Tanaka quickly interrupted.

“Everybody has their share already! I’m sure they don’t mind.” Your upperclassman commented. “Besides, our beautiful manager deserves to have rest!”

“Somehow, it doesn’t correlate…” Asahi muttered, smiling nervously.

At the end, you ended up sitting down beside Asahi and munching on a slice of watermelon. Your upperclassman was right for one thing–enjoying the fruit in a hot summer day was a great way to cool down, you instantly felt refreshed.

“Sorry, by the way.” The four of you looked up to the call, seeing Kuroo approaching and out of blue apologizing. Surely, your upperclassmen were confused with this except you.

“About what?” Daichi questioned.

“I think I might have pissed off your glasses guy yesterday.”

“What?”

To make it clearer, the cat captain sat down with his back towards you and began explaining the situation occurred the other day–you admired how both parties didn’t once interrupt nor getting things heated up, they knew this wasn’t something big and could be resolved by just a simple apology.

“Wow… Tsukishima actually helped out with free practice even if you cornered him into it,” Daichi hummed in understanding.

“Your manager too, but that’s Bokuto’s idea,” you didn’t know why on earth Kuroo decided to brough it up but seeing your upperclassmen were nonchalant about it (except maybe Tanaka, though he was quickly being shut up by Daichi) it’s also not a big deal.

“So, what did you say?”

“I provoked him and said he was going to lose to your shrimp over there.”

“I’ve definitely noticed that Tsukishima seems to feel inferior to Hinata somehow.” Asahi remarked, probably remembering a few words Tsukishima said to him.

“I’m not sure if this is relevant, but my sister mentioned someone tall named Tsukishima also joined the volleyball team during the Little Giant times.” Tanaka mentioned, surely this is new to all of you because Tsukishima wasn’t the type of person who talks about himself much.

Daichi’s head perked up. “Tsukishima has an older brother?”

“Oh, I’m not sure.” Tanaka quickly replied. “They could’ve just had the same last name and not be related. Do you know anything about this, [Name]-chan?”

“I don’t, but if I know, I think it’s not my place to tell since Tsukishima-kun would undoubtedly be annoyed because of it,” you answered, which made Tanaka hummed in agreement.

“Hey, we’re about to start!” Sugawara called out.

You didn’t know about Tsukishima having a sibling or not, however,

“This is just a club. Why do you put so much into it? It’s because you put so much into it that you suffer later.”

You couldn’t help but think it’s somehow related to what he muttered the night before.

.

.

Yet again when the sky softly bathed in orange glow, Karasuno had to pay their losing with penalty–you along with Yachi and Shimizu also Takeda-sensei and Coach Ukai watched as the boys bolted uphill accompanied by yelling (well, this was mostly Hinata, Kageyama, Tanaka, and Nishinoya).

“Here,” you offered a water bottle for Kageyama. He couldn’t even reply a ‘thank you’ from how harshly he was panting and you could only sympathize with him–more than five matches in a day plus penalties were rough.

“Thanks,” the raven-haired boy finally rasped after downing probably a half of the water from the bottle. You also handed him a towel so he could wipe away the sweat dripping down from his temple.

“So, how’s training going?” you finally asked, which triggered a sighed from him.

“No progress.” The frustration was getting to him definitely–while you were only watching for some time since Yachi’s already there to help him, you understood that Kageyama failed more than he succeeded. He knew he was getting nowhere and time was short, if he’s not geared up it will be a problem.

“I can’t give you any helpful advice but I think you should practice under Coach Ukai’s watch,” you mentioned, and Kageyama listened carefully. “He probably has ways that could help you. You couldn’t do this on your own Kageyama-kun, you need guidance.”

Nodding firmly, he replied. “Yeah.”

“I can’t wait to see your toss,” you then added, giving him a smile. “It’s going to be amazing for sure. You did pinpoint toss to Hinata all this time.”

The boy fell silent for a while, and you almost regretted saying those words–did you somehow step on a landmine? Did you piss him off? Did you touch the nerve-

“I promise to get done and you’ll see it.” The negative thoughts were gone from your mind as you stare at those blue eyes filled with determination. You found yourself smiling at his promise.

“I will be waiting then.”

.

.

“Sensei, what do you think of Tsukishima?” Coach Ukai asked your advisor while the five of you were watching the match between Karasuno and Ubugawa.

“I think he’s taking this seriously,” Takeda-sensei answered, although rather confused from the question.

“How about you, Otohaku?” and you didn’t expect to be involve in the conversation also.

“Uhm… he’s doing his work, but lack of effort? I think he’s not giving his all.” you replied but somehow became an unsure question in the end.

“You’re right,” Coach Ukai remarked. “I feel like Tsukishima gets a passing grade but never tries for 100%. I’m not asking for him to become more passionate, but if he’s not going to give his all, I’m gonna have to change regulars. I need players who can win a match on the court. He’s the tallest and essential to the team. If Tsukishima could become a strong blocker, our defense level would go up a lot.”

“I see,” Takeda-sensei nodded in understanding.

Not long into the game after Tsukishima served, there’s a collision between Daichi and Nishinoya for the ball–at first, it was nerve-wracking because if one of them was hurt it could be bad. However, seeing that the two dismissed it as if it was nothing was relieving.

“Everyone’s so motivated.” Yachi commented.

“Everyone’s more motivated now than I’ve ever seen them before,” Shimizu frowned in worry. “But sometimes it’s almost scary. Collisions like the other day can definitely lead to major injuries.”

Another spike went through but received perfectly by Kageyama, the ball bounced to the air and Tanaka was the second one to get it, passing it immediately to Asahi.

“It’s a little short,” you muttered, noticing the ball was hovering near the net–exactly to where Hinata was. From how he’s staring at it, he’s most likely to steal it–but then he tensed up, snapped his head to the side to give Asahi a stare and stayed in his place in the end.

“Let him know the ball is yours.”

You stared as Asahi successfully killed the ball even with three blockers–grinning from how he stole a score and holding them team together so it wouldn’t become lawless. The attempt was enough for you to let your shoulders relaxed.

“Maybe I didn’t need to worry after all.” Shimizu sighed in relief.

Asahi turned to face you, giving you a smile and an outstretched fist–you immediately returned it with the exact same gesture.

[heyyyharry]

Deep End - Chapter 5: Master of the House

…in which Ezi is home alone with Harry’s assistant.

Word count: 4.8k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

A/N: PLEASEEEEEE LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! I'll write faster when I get a lot of comments 😩

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Harry pulled Ezi down the hallway to find the nearest bathroom. His head started to hurt as he thought about how his mother would react if she found out what Ezi had done. What he had done. He didn’t expect his cousin to run and tell anyone that he’d been attacked by a helpless girl and that Harry had beat the shit out of him afterwards. But someone might have seen that, and words could spread like a virus at these kinds of events. It’d be wiser to just walk away quietly.

When he had found a bathroom, an old lady stepped out, saw them and made a face, probably assuming the worst when she caught sight of the blood on Ezi’s face.

“I didn’t hit her,” Harry told the lady, only to receive a disgusted look in return.

She ignored him and turned to Ezi. “Honey, are you alright?”

Ezi offered a grin, showing her blood-stained teeth. “Yeah. It’s not my blood.”

The lady’s eyes widened in shock. Slowly, she took a step back, then ran off without another word.

Harry immediately shut the door behind them. “Wash your mouth,” he told Ezi, turned on the water, and as she washed her mouth in the sink, he took off his jacket, put it on the marble counter, and rolled up his sleeves.

Ezi hopped onto the counter and watched Harry soak the handkerchief he’d been carrying in his pocket.

“Face,” he ordered, and she lifted her chin so he could gently wipe off the blood around her mouth.

“I was defending myself,” she said once he’d finished and tossed the handkerchief into the bin at his feet.

“I know.” He shifted his eyes back to her. He didn’t mean to sound like a dick, but it seemed like he’d come off as one. He leaned to the side with his hand on the cool surface of the sink. “It’s not your fault. I know my cousin. His family is in debt because of his gambling addiction. I keep telling my mother to ban him from the manor, but she has too much respect for the fucker’s parents to do it.”

“So why did he call you trash?”

At that, Harry couldn’t help but cackle. “He did? Well, I think most people would think so. I haven’t done much to make my mother proud. She wanted her only son to take over our family’s business, but I wanted to become a singer, and yeah…”

Ezi blinked at him. She probably didn’t understand most of what he’d said, so he let it go and worked up a smile. “Sorry for oversharing. You okay?”

She nodded. “I’m not hurt. I was the one that bit him.”

“Are you feeling sorry for him now?”

“No. I would’ve eaten him if you hadn’t shown up.” The way she;d said with a straight face amused and scared Harry at the same time. “Although he didn’t taste as good now that I’m human and need my food cooked.”

“I’ll just assume that you weren’t serious.”

Harry picked up his jacket from the sink. Ezi hopped to her feet and reached for the doorknob, but he pulled her back to him by her wrist and swept his eyes over her body once again. “Where did he touch you?”

She pointed to her waist and showed him the red fingerprints around her forearm.

“Nowhere else?”

“Nowhere else.” She shook her head. “I don’t like being touched.”

A sense of discomfort filled Harry as he recalled how she’d said those same words after he’d yelled at her earlier. She must have been so scared. Tonight he deserved a trophy for being the biggest asshole alive.

“Nobody should touch you. Not even me.”

“You are touching me.”

Harry looked down at his fingers around her wrist and immediately let go. “From now on, nobody,” he said. “Only when you give them permission to touch you, okay?”

“What about handshakes?”

“Handshakes are fine. Wouldn’t recommend shaking hands with everyone, though. Germs and all that.” He stepped in closer and pretended to put his arms around her without touching her, just to demonstrate. “So hugs like this are for friends. You don’t usually do this to people you’ve just met. Unless they’re the ones on the street with the sign that says FREE HUGS. You’re allowed to hug those.”

“Got it.”

“And,” breathed Harry as he grabbed his nonexistent boobs. “This area is forbidden. Nobody is allowed to touch you here...unless you want them too, of course.”

“Why would I want them to?”

Harry ignored the question and went on, grabbing his bum. “Also this and the front area.” He gestured to his crotch. “Forbidden.”

“But I don’t have a tail.”

“You have something else that’s just as important as my tail.” He felt silly to say it, but it would have felt weird to say dick or penis to her face.

She put a finger to her lips; a line appeared between her brows as she pondered. “Speaking of something else, the hole--”

“Okay, not here! Save your questions for when we’re home.”

Harry grabbed her shoulders to spin her around, and she immediately smacked his hands and shot him a glare. “I didn’t give you permission to touch me.”

“Good. Love that attitude. But really, we need to leave before my mother finds out I almost killed someone in her home.”

He reached around Ezi and opened the door, bobbed his chin for her to go first, but she stood still, her face serious. “That wasn’t like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Back there. You became someone else. You were...violent.”

“Well, yeah. Only because he deserved that.”

Ezi cocked her head to the side, her clear blue eyes squinted. “But he was one of your kind. And I’m not. So why were you protecting me?”

“Because he assaulted you. I don’t care if he was the Queen of England. I would’ve beat his ass still.” Seeing her perplexed expression, Harry let out a soft laugh. “Why’s it surprising? Didn’t you save me twice?”

Ezi averted her eyes and gave a small nod. “Yeah.”

“And you lost your tail for it, so it wasn’t a fair trade anyway.”

He waited for her to say something, but she didn’t, so he wrapped his jacket around her shoulders and told her to go.

They didn’t speak on the ride home. Harry wanted to lighten up the mood with his stupid jokes, but he was too agitated to say anything. They had left without saying goodbye to his mother or anyone, so he would probably be in so much trouble tomorrow. He had put his phone on airplane mode; his mother’s harsh words would have to wait. He also couldn’t help but think that if he hadn’t shown up, something worse could have happened to Ezi. Or his cousin. Or both. And it would’ve been his fault as well.

“Next time we go out, don’t do the opposite of what I tell you to do,” he told Ezi when they’d arrived home and gone upstairs to her room. “You’re even more stubborn than my cat. At least she’d stay put when I tell her to.”

“I was looking for you! I thought you’d left me.”

Harry tossed his keys onto a table and turned to look at Ezi. He put both hands on his hips. She was giving him those puppy dog’s eyes while fidgeting with her own fingers as if she hadn’t nearly torn open his cousin’s throat with her human teeth. He could not imagine what she could do with her siren fangs.

He let go a sigh and scratched his forehead. “You thought I’d left you?” His voice was lower now that he’d calmed down a bit. “So you don’t trust me?”

She said nothing, just staring back at him.

Calmly, he went on, “I brought you all the way here to London and risked it all to keep you in my house, Ezi. I had to speak to some of my relatives at the event, but I was going to come back for you. I told you to stay--”

“You lied to me.”

Frozen to the spot, Harry blinked. “About?”

“Dawson,” Ezi said. “I talked to Dawson.”

“You talked to Dawson?!”

“And he was a nice person.” Then, she had to reassure him, “Don’t worry. It was a short conversation, and I didn’t tell him much about myself.”

“Then how do you know he was a nice person?” Harry scoffed. “I mean, you barely know the lad.”

“He told me about manga, and he called me beautiful, and he doesn’t act friendly to his enemy.”

“Enemy?” Harry asked, but Ezi didn’t bother to explain.

“Why do you hate him?” she asked.

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. “He’s a try-hard. I hate try-hards. My mother loves him, so of course you’d love him, too.”

“I wouldn’t call it love--”

“Good. Because he’s lame.”

Ezi tilted her head, looking puzzled. “What’s lame?”

“Boring. Not interesting.”

“Oh.” She gave an understanding nod. “Then you’re the lamest.”

“Okay, you know what?” Harry exhaled and pointed to her bedroom door. He had never felt more like a dad than he was now. “You’re grounded for a day. That means you’re not allowed to leave your room tomorrow.”

“How will I eat?”

“The food will be brought to your room.”

Ezi’s face turned red as she crossed her arms and stomped her foot. “You cannot imprison me!”

“It’s not imprisoning if you still get to play games and watch videos on your iPad.”

Harry knew Ezi loved the iPad. Her furrowed brows relaxed as soon as she heard that she got to keep it. “Fine.” She breathed. “I don’t want to see your face anyway. I’ll just be in my room with Chilli.”

“Good.”

“Good!”

Ezi shoved Harry aside as she stormed into her room and kicked the door shut. Harry stared at it for a moment. Then, he smiled, shook his head and went back to his room.

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Ezili had a nightmare again.

This time, she’d returned to the ocean after failing her mission, and as punishment, her mother had turned her into a shrimp, while her sister had watched with a satisfied sneer.

A few moments after she’d woken up screaming, she heard Harry’s footsteps pounding down the hallway before he burst into her room, panting as he asked if she was alright. She almost said that she was now that he was here, but she didn’t and only answered with a nod.

“Okay,” Harry gave a crooked smile. “Just...wake me up if you need anything.”

“Wait.” The word slipped out before Ezili could stop herself.

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Yeah?”

She rubbed her hands onto her thighs, feeling the smoothness of the fabric of her nightgown, which brought her a sense of comfort. In the semi-darkness of her room, Harry looked strangely handsome with his messy hair and sleepiness in his heavy hooded eyes. She wondered why he had to be all groomed most of the time when he already looked good without trying.

For a second, she forgot what she was about to say then flinched when he called her name.

“Can you sleep here with me tonight?” she asked.

Harry looked stiff, his lips slightly parted.

“If you want to,” she quickly added. When she was living under the sea, she had hated sharing her space with the other sirens, so she could imagine how uncomfortable Harry must feel about her request. Still, she knew if he was around, she wouldn’t have nightmares. If she focused on his presence, then she wouldn’t think about her mother and sister and the task that seemed impossible to complete. Besides, she wanted to be as close to him as possible, learn his behaviours, and slowly slip into his mind and then his heart.

“I mean…” He scratched the back of his head and awkwardly looked around the room. “I guess I could sleep on the sofa over there.”

“There’s plenty of space on this bed,” she said, patting the spot beside her.

His mouth curled. “I know. I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. After what happened tonight, I thought you wouldn’t want to be near a man anymore.”

Ezili shrugged. “Well, I’ll try not to hate you tonight.”

Harry rested a shoulder against the doorframe and rubbed his chin. “Well, well, well, are you saying that I chase your bad dreams away?”

“Yes, because you’re already a living nightmare.”

Her response made him laugh. At this point, she could conclude that he enjoyed being degraded.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “How’s your English so good? I thought you must speak a language for sirens, no?”

“We speak Séren back home.”

“Oh, cool. Say something in your language.”

“T’ko thikc mei vie mei zua zi.”

“Damn. What does it mean?”

“I don’t like you because you’re ugly.”

Harry’s smile vanished, making Ezili explode in laughter. When she saw the way he was gawking at her, probably because she had never laughed like that before, she forced herself to stop and cleared her throat. “Yeah, so that’s Séren.”

“How do you speak English so well then?”

“Not just English. I also speak French, Danish, and German.”

“Wow. Your fish schools teach human languages?”

Ezili made a disgusted face. “No. I learn them from hearing the conversations of the sailors on the boats.”

“Makes sense.” Harry nodded slowly. “You seem like a fast learner. Way too fast; it’s scary. Maybe your brain is even more developed than mine.”

“Thank you.”

“Now that I’ve entertained you--”

“You’ve done nothing. I did all the talking.”

“I gave you a topic to talk about. Don’t be mean.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Anyway, now that you’re entertained, do you still want me to stay?”

Ezili thought for a second and nodded.

“Alright,” Harry breathed and shut the door behind him. “I’ll stay. Scoot over.”

“You’re permitted to touch me tonight,” Ezili said.

Harry froze when he’d sat down on the edge of the bed. “What?”

Was there something wrong with his hearing? He’d asked her to repeat a lot of things tonight.

“You’re permitted to touch me tonight,” she told him again in annoyance. “You might touch my hand or arm when you sleep. I can’t hold you accountable for that.”

“That’s not--” He exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “You know what? Good for you. Keep that attitude when you’re with any man. I’m a man myself, but most of us are pigs.”

“You mean all of you.”

“I literally just lay down and you’re already insulting me.”

“Fine. I’ll stop,” Ezili said, smiling as she watched Harry adjust the covers to make himself comfortable.

“I can’t sleep with you staring at me like that,” he said with one eye shut and the other half-opened.

Pouting, Ezili turned over with her back to him. Harry’s throaty laugh made her stomach clench, but in a good way. “Ezi,” he whispered. “I was only joking.”

She completely ignored him, pretending she was asleep. He was quiet for the next few moments, and when she looked back to check, he was already sleeping. She thought he was playing, so she called his name and lightly pulled a strand of his hair, but he didn’t react. He was lying on his back, his mouth slightly open as he breathed, chest rising and falling in a calming rhythm. She pushed up on one elbow and peered down at his face. She hadn’t observed him this close before. Well, not since their first encounter on the beach. The last time, however, had been in a different situation, and she hadn’t got time to properly study him. Humans were exquisite-looking creatures. She would never admit aloud, but she had always envied them for it.

She started counting his eyelashes and connecting the freckles on his face. The more she looked, the more fascinating he became. It had amazed her how he’d rescued her instead of another human. And not just any human, but his family. She would never betray her kind for a human. Her rescuing him twice had been an act to gain his trust, when the whole purpose of this mission was to have him dead at the end.

Slowly and carefully, she moved closer and gently pressed her ear to his chest. She could hear it. The thumping of his heart, pumping blood through his veins, keeping him alive. He would be dead without that heart. Sadly, so would she.

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“Good morning?” Harry said in a tone of a question when he woke up and found Ezi standing in front of the window with her back straight and arms to her sides, like one of those guards in front of Buckingham Palace. “Helloooo?”

“Shhhh. I’m meditating.”

“Who meditates standing up?” He snorted. “Man, you’ve been watching too much YouTube.”

“TikTok. And I’m not a man.”

“Wait, you’re on TikTok now?”

Ezi released a long breath and turned around to face him, hands on her hips. Sunlight filtered through the thin material of her blue nightgown, and Harry looked away as fast as he could before he got hard over a nipple or something. He wasn’t a bad guy. It was only--

“Seven in the morning,” he groaned into the pillow and fell back to the bed. “Fucking hell.”

“It’s morning, so you’re not welcome in my bed anymore.”

He removed the pillow to glare at her. “Ungrateful little minx. Said that after I’d chased away all the nightmares.”

“Go before I send Chilli to take you out.”

As if she heard her name, Chilli appeared in the doorway and licked her little paw while sending Harry a death look.

“You’re siding with the enemy now, huh?” he asked the cat.

“Why not?” Ezi said. “She’s a smart girl.”

Harry groaned loudly as he pushed himself out of bed and started doing some stretches. “Remember,” he told Ezi, who was watching him with her arms crossed and a judgy look on her face. How did she manage to look this good at seven in the morning? Totally unfair. “Remember,” he repeated as he almost forgot what he was trying to say. “You’re grounded. So you can’t leave your room today, but the food will be brought to you. You’re allowed to use the bathroom down the hall.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” He ruffled his hair and gestured at her. “Now continue doing...that...thing that you were doing.”

“Meditating.”

“Whatever,” he chuckled. “Weirdo.”

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“Good morning, Mr Boss!” said Amy, Harry’s assistant, as he went downstairs. She’d just arrived with the flowers for his living room.

“Morning, Ames. Any updates?”

“All in the email I sent you, Boss. Also, your mother called...52 times.”

“Yeah, I’ll deal with her,” Harry gave the girl a tight smile as he fixed his hair in the giant mirror by the stairs. “Thank you so much.”

“Did you watch the season finale of Master of the House?” Amy asked, smiling at his reflection in the mirror.

He turned around, grinning back at her. He liked how Amy was always so enthusiastic, but at the same time, found it difficult to match her energy. “No, been too busy. What happened?”

“I won’t spoil.” She giggled and started replacing the flowers in the vase in the centre of the living room with the new ones. “You should watch it this week and we’ll discuss.”

“I will.” When he got to the door, Harry did a spin as he remembered what he almost forgot. “Amy, can you stay here and wait for Niall to come? Also, there’s a girl sleeping upstairs. Don’t wake her.”

Amy’s usual grin had never disappeared so fast. Her hand that was holding a rose froze midair when she asked, “Was it the girl I saw the other day?”

“Yeah.”

“Your new girlfriend?”

“Just a friend.” Harry knew Amy had a little crush on him. It was harmless, so he didn’t really care. “I gotta go,” he told her, pretending he couldn’t see through her frown. “Wait for Niall.”

“Okay.” She forced a toothy grin and waved. “Have a great day, Boss!”

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This shirt was too big for Ezili. She shook her head, tongue stuck out at the corner of her lips as she reached further into the closet to get the dark blue t-shirt at the back.

As she pulled the pink shirt she was wearing over her head and put on the blue one. She heard the door to the closet creak open. Her chest nearly exploded. It was just Chilli.

She gave the cat a look. “What?”

The cat meowed at her.

“Yeah, I know he said I couldn’t leave my room and was only allowed to use the bathroom, but I’m bored.” She slipped on a white tennis skirt and sat down on the floor to put on a pair of white shoes. She struggled with the strings, but somehow still managed to tie them into two nice bows like she’d seen on those tutorials.

Twirling in front of the mirror, she asked Chilli, “Do you think I look good?”

Chilli responded by rubbing her tiny head against Ezili’s ankle. Ezili took it as a yes.

Their moment was interrupted by a loud thump from downstairs. Speaking of which, Ezili hadn’t heard from Harry all morning. He’d left breakfast for her at the door and disappeared to who knew where. She probably should go check on him.

Chilli followed her to the living room, both forgetting that Ezili wasn’t supposed to go downstairs. But it didn’t matter anymore, because instead of Harry, she found the green-haired girl lying on her stomach on the white cushioned sofa with her feet in the air and a half-finished bag of chips on the coffee table.. The sound Ezili had heard was the result of the chair this girl had knocked over yet didn’t bother to pick up.

Ezili hesitated for a moment behind the bookcase behind the girl. Before she decided to speak up, the girl did. She was on the phone with someone.

“So the master of the house was taken care of.”

Master of the house?

Harry?

“Nah, I think that girl is dead, too,” the green-haired girl giggled. What was so funny about death? “No, I don’t mean like dead now. But if she attacks, then the team will take her out.”

Ezili shivered. Could she be talking about Ezili? The master of the house was Harry. This green-haired monster had murdered Harry, and Ezili was the next target.

“What do you mean I don’t know that? I’m the expert. I’ve watched stuff like this all the time. Believe me. There’s no way she’s not getting caught. I can’t wait for the world to find out who she really is.”

Ezili went numb until she felt Chilli around her ankle. She put a finger to her lips to order the cat to stay quiet otherwise they’d both die. Picking up the cat, she walked quietly to the front door and slipped out before the green-haired girl found out she’d left her room. She must run away. She’d rather die by her mother’s hands than become a prisoner to humans.

The problem was: she didn’t know where she was.

How far was the ocean from here? She remembered having flown across the sky inside the iron bird, so this land must be very far from home.

“Watch where you’re going, crazy bitch!”

Ezili screamed when a car made a loud noise that almost blew up her ears. She stumbled backwards to the side of the road as the man inside the car gave her a look of contempt and drove off.

She hugged Chilli tighter to her chest. Relax, the voice inside her head said. I know you’ll figure out what to do.

She inhaled deeply and--

“Ezili?”

The sound of her name felt like a splash of water on a hot day. She shot her focus to the white car with the window rolled down and saw a familiar handsome face with glasses.

“Dawson!”

Dawson poked his head out of the window. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and blue jeans -- the opposite image of the person she’d met last night. “Hey, where are you going?” he asked, looking concerned. “With the cat. Where’s Harry?”

“He’s dead,” Ezili told him quietly. She couldn’t let them find out that she’d escaped.

To her surprise, Dawson laughed. Could it be that he was one of them?

“Sooo dead. His mum sent me to check on him because she’s raging and he doesn’t answer his phone. But don’t worry. This happens all the time. He’s like a cat. Got nine lives.”

Ezili rapidly shook her head. “There was a girl in there. Green hair—”

“Harry’s assistant?”

“Yeah, that girl!” She continued nodding. “She was talking on the phone with someone. She said that the m-master of the house i-is dead.”

“Shit.” Dawson’s face grew dim. Maybe he’d finally understood. “She spoiled you the season finale?”

What?

“That sucks. But don’t worry, there’s still more.”

“What?”

“Master of the House. The Netflix show.”

It took Ezili’s brain a few moments to process, then she realised she had made a fool out of herself for nothing. Of course the green-haired girl wasn’t talking about killing Harry. It was a Netflix show!

Sighing in relief, she threw on a smile. “Oh, right. Yeah, that really shocked me. Harry’s not home, by the way.”

Dawson grimaced. “You okay? Where were you running off to?”

“Uhhh.” Ezili straightened her back. “W-Where were you running off to? I mean, driving.”

Dawson chuckled. He also had dimples like Harry’s, just not as prominent. “I came to see Harry but since he’s not home.” He peered around her to the front gate of Harry’s house. “I guess I’ll go to the bookstore today.” Another smile at Ezili. Unlike Harry, this one smiled a lot. And Ezili was keen on it. “Wanna come?”

Go with him?

Yes, yes she absolutely wanted that.

Harry wasn’t going to let her explore this new land anyway. And after the incident this morning, it was for the best if she knew her way around here, to escape when she must. Still, she remembered how angry he’d been last night about her not doing what he’d told her to do and putting herself in danger. She was about to turn down the offer when Chilli jumped out of her arms and into the car with Dawson. She sat casually on Dawson’s lap, gazing up at Ezili.

Dawson beamed. “Looks like the cat’s made up its mind.”

Ezili rolled her eyes, threw her head back and groaned. “Her name’s Chilli,” she said. “But, fine. I’ll go with you.”

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Niall felt like the main character today as he skipped up the steps to Harry’s door. Harry had asked him for a favour again. Because where else would his best friend turn to when things got rough? Niall knew that he was helpful and the best friend Harry could ask for. Still, he tried to stay humble about it.

“Sup, Ames.” He waved at Harry’s assistant, who opened the door for him. “Did you like my new TikTok?”

“With all five of my accounts. I got you, Nialler,” Amy said as she leaned against the staircase while chewing gum in her mouth.

Niall shrugged off his coat and hung it up. “Thanks, love. Sorry I’m late. Mikasa was wild this morning. I’m literally exhausted.”

“Uh, TMI?”

“What do you mean? It’s just yoga. She and her ‘I’m a therapist. Yoga will be good for your mental health’. She thinks I’m in love with her and would do anything for her. And you know what? She’s absolutely correct. Now where’s the girl?”

Amy looked confused for a second before she realised who he was referring to. “Oh, the pale girl? I saw her leave with Dawson Styles.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, she got into his car with Chilli. Is she really Harry’s girlfriend? I don’t like her. She didn’t say hello to me the first time and not this morning, either.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” Niall grabbed his head. “Sick girl on the loose. Sick girl on the loose. Thanks Ames.” Ignoring Amy looking baffled, he pulled out his phone and called Harry. The endless ringing only got him more frustrated. “Pick up, you motherfucker. It’s always the Nialler who has to save the day.”

Harry picked up after what seemed like a million beeps. “Don’t tell me someone’s injured. It’s only been an hour.”

“Worse!” Niall almost yelled. “Dawson kidnapped the girl!”

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 20

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 20 - Wronged

Xiao Yu didn't make him do anything this time. Lin Yan pulled over a small bench and sat by the bathtub. When he opened his eyes again, Xiao Yu was lying on the edge of the bathtub, his face directly in front of Lin Yan's. Lin Yan almost fell off the bench in fright. He straightened himself, hand clutching at his chest.

What was wrong? Why was he suddenly so nervous? Lin Yan shook his head vigorously to get rid of the strange thoughts in his mind and took a deep breath. He gathered Xiao Yu's hair and soaked it in the water, building up suds in his hands. The temperature in the room from the summer night and two bodies was really uncomfortable, but the air around the ghost felt like it was being blown out of a refrigerator. Lin Yan, greedy for a bit of the coolness emanating off him, pressed his fingers against Xiao Yu's scalp, rubbing it gently. He couldn't help but proudly exclaim: "I'm pretty good at this, aren't I? Am I better than your maid?"

Xiao Yu raised his hand and touched his face. Lin Yan ducked, trying to dodge, but didn't get out of the way in time and his face was smeared with foam. He started playing with it, scooping the foam up and smearing it onto Xiao Yu's face. When he inadvertently wiped it on his eyes, Xiao Yu didn't duck away. He blinked and caught Lin Yan's wrist, and whispered, "That hurts."

"Don't-don't move, I'll help you wash it out." ​​Lin Yan was startled. He lowered the temperature of the faucet water and poured it over Xiao Yu's head. The ghost closed his eyes docilely, and his black hair flattened against his shoulders under the impact of the water. Lin Yan brushed away the foam on his eyelids with his fingers. He couldn't help but look down. A pair of long eyebrows that always appeared uneven, eyes slightly closed, neat sideburns, and the bridge of his nose so sharp, it was like a knife. . . It was really... how could a ghost look so pretty. . .

Lin Yan was in a daze, and a thought appeared in his mind.

A kiss. . . A kiss would be okay.

After all, he had been kissed so many times before.

He could just return the favour.

Lin Yan slowly lowered his head, and pressed his lips to Xiao Yu's cheek. . .

Bang. The cold metal shell of the showerhead slammed against the edge of the bathtub and made a muffled thud. Lin Yan was frightened and jumped back, and he came back to his senses. What he was doing? Lin Yan stared blankly at the showerhead that kept spraying water after it fell in the bathtub. From his neck all the way to his cheeks, he flushed as red as a cooked piece of shrimp.

He must have been out of his mind to try and kiss a ghost that was trying to kill him.

"Lin Yan." Xiao Yu gently called him, picking up the shower and placing it into Lin Yan's hand. His wet arms wrapped around Lin Yan's neck and forced his head down. Lin Yan reacted instinctively and tried to pull away. However, the ghost was too strong. One tried desperately to back away, the other dragging him forward. Lin Yan’s flip-flops slipped on the soapy floor. He lost his balance and pushed into Xiao Yu as he fell into the bathtub.

There was a muffled thump, and water splashed in all directions. Lin Yan was soaked from head to toe. He pulled himself up on the edge of the bath and spit out mouthfuls of water. He angrily wiped the soap bubbles off his face. He turned over, pushing Xiao Yu down and muttered: "Ok, you bastard, see if I help you now!" The sloshing water continued to make noise, and the two people huddled together in the hot water.

The steam accumulating in the bathroom grew thicker and thicker, and it was even getting difficult to see the outline of the door. The water vapour formed beads on the black and white shower curtain, rolling down in small drops. Lin Yan threw his drenched T-shirt onto the ground, lying side by side with Xiao Yu in only his boxers. Xiao Yu's whole body was as cool as marble, and it was very refreshing to stick to him.

Lin Yan stared at the ceiling and let out a long sigh of relief. It had been half a year, and this empty house had the touch of another human for the first time since Weiwei left. It just so happened that the human turned out to be a ghost.

It was like a real home. He could hear the mundane sounds of activities when he got back every day. Someone was there to watch TV with him during dinner. When he fell asleep, he could wrap his leg around the body of the person next to him. When he took a bath, there was someone splashing around and making trouble for him. There was someone there to complain about whether he put too much salt in their food or not, someone who could help him through nightmares. Lin Yan thought, whether it was the so-called 'love' or not, it felt good having someone by his side.

Lin Yan nudged Xiao Yu with his elbow, and sighed softly, "If you were still alive, we could be friends. You could come to my house for sweet and sour pork ribs on the weekend."

"Yin Zhou used to be cheeky and lounged around my place, but now he's too afraid and you and won't come anymore."

Xiao Yu suddenly turned his face and pulled on Lin Yan's arm, fixedly looking at him. He said slowly, ". . . Come with me."

"On July 15?" Lin Yan felt cold.

Xiao Yu nodded seriously.

Lin Yan stared at his fingers in a daze. He wasn't sure how to convince such a stubborn and domineering ghost, and he didn't want to disappoint him, but they were both just too different. He would look for a job, maybe get married, raise some kids, and spend the rest of his dull life eating and working. Xiao Yu should walk his own path, too. He walked through the Sanzu River, went over the Naihe Bridge, and drank the clear water from a wooden bowl. From then on, he could forget the past, treat his future as a blank piece of white paper and write himself a new life.

Pick up the pen, dip it in the ink, and forget about what came before. They should never have crossed paths.

"I can't." Lin Yan said softly, "I still have parents, friends. Xiao Yu, don't make things difficult. I have to live."

"No matter how difficult it is, I'll help you remember why you're here so you can fulfill your wish." Lin Yan sat up on the edge of the bathtub. "You have to be a good ghost so you can get reincarnated. Maybe we can meet again in the next life. I'll be a bearded old man by then, and I promise you won't be able to look away when you see me."

Lin Yan lifted up the edge of his wet boxers, stepping onto the tiles and trying to climb out. Suddenly a cold hand stretched out from underneath the water to grab his ankle, and then yanked hard. The bottom of the pool was wet and slippery. Lin Yan was already standing unsteadily, and he fell straight on his back. The moment his head hit the edge of the bathtub, it was cushioned by a palm. With a muffled sound, Lin Yan rested on the side of the bathtub with both hands under the water. The sharp pain in his back made him suck in a cold breath. When he opened his eyes, he was faced with a pair of cloudy pupils, reflecting his figure, infinitely embarrassed.

The surrounding temperature instantly cooled down.

Oh, he was angry.

After a moment of hesitation, Xiao Yu grabbed Lin Yan's hair and pressed him into the water. Lin Yan kicked his legs indiscriminately. The warm water rushed around from all directions. He was unable to breathe, unable to even make a sound. The warm water mixed with the shower gel poured into his mouth and went up his nose. Lin Yan shook his head helplessly under the water, and a hand that stretched out from the water squeezed Xiao Yu's wrist tightly.

The sound of the gurgling water seemed to be magnified by a loudspeaker when it hit his eardrums. His vision was distorted by the water flow, but he could make out Xiao Yu's wicked and vicious face. One hand wrapped around Lin Yan's neck and kept him underwater, the other hand wantonly stroking his chest.

The pain of suffocation and choking on water cut through his lungs like a razor blade. While his hair floated under the water, his eyes were wide open, full of fear and despair.

With a splash of water, Lin Yan was pulled up from under the water against Xiao Yu's waist and buckled softly against Xiao Yu's body. Unable to get up in a breath, Lin Yan closed his eyes and unconsciously squeezed Xiao Yu's arm. Lin Yan spit out a mouthful of water and started coughing violently until his back was beaten a few times.

It hurt everywhere. His nose, lungs, and back were all screaming like crazy. Lin Yan had never felt this crappy before in his life. He gasped for breath, coughing and spitting water, his ears buzzing. It was like a rag doll being pushed around by Xiao Yu. It took a long time to calm himself down, sobbing aggrievedly.

"Lin Yan, Lin Yan. . ." The hushed voice was full of anxiety, and his icy hand stroked down his back like he was a kitten.

"Don't touch me, stay away from me. . ." Lin Yan trembled on Xiao Yu's shoulder.

There was a small pop sound. The light in the bathroom went out, and their surroundings sank into dark silence.

The sudden darkness made Lin Yan's vision go black. All he could feel was a pair of cold hands supporting his waist. With a gentle tug, he fell back into Xiao Yu's arms. He tilted his head slightly, and his lips were sealed by the man's. His tongue was like a snake's, slithering in and licking around.

He was gentle, but he also wasn't allowing any room for Lin Yan to resist. Xiao Yu’s arms lay across his chest like steel tongs. Lin Yan couldn’t move his neck. He could only slightly tilt his head to match the other. He opened his lips and let the cool tongue slip in and out of his mouth. Then, the overwhelming emotions tumbled out, forcing him to respond.

The previous violent acts seemed to have allowed this ghost to gain complete control over him, but after three or two minutes of lingering teasing, Lin Yan's whole body softened, and the sudden breathing caused the pain in his chest to spike again. Lin Yan grabbed Xiao Yu's arm, muttering softly between the deep kisses: "It hurts. Xiao Yu, it hurts."

The steel tongs loosened, and Lin Yan leaned over the edge of the bathtub and coughed vigorously.

The cold hand rubbed his back and then started to lightly pat it. Until Lin Yan's breathing slowly calmed down, he clasped his abdomen from behind, hooking his arms around him and gently licked his earlobe.

"Hey. . ." After having an extremely sensitive place sucked repeatedly, Lin Yan couldn't help sucking in a breath and he curled up his legs.

The snake-like tongue refused to let him go. After getting that initial response, his tongue moved up his ear and made a suggestive sound beside it, while his palm restlessly stroked Lin Yan's chest, pressing into his incessantly. Lin Yan's breathing started to heat up. His whole body felt like it was on fire, but his mind was clear. Lin Yan pursed his lips and tried to control his body's reaction. With his head resting on Xiao Yu's shoulder, he raised his gaze to look at him. His eyes were filled with rage but also with desire. Looking at the pair of eyes filled with such vivid emotions, Xiao Yu was stunned. He lowered his head and continued to kiss him.

The handsome man curled up in his arms was like a cat. As Xiao Yu's kiss deepened, drool slipped out from the corners of Lin Yan's mouth. He only felt that his reactions were completely out of his control. Xiao Yu's bare legs were wedged between his knees, Lin Yan couldn't help but pester him further, his legs clamped around him and rubbed gently into him.

Like a slab of marble, he was firm and cold, a sharp contrast with the heat emanating from the bathtub.

Ever since this all started, he was constantly being teased. First, he was teased with being touched, then teased with him the sight of him. The ghost had kissed him everywhere from his fingers to his forehead in public crowds so often that it was even driving God crazy at this point. Lin Yan shifted desperately and wrapped his arms around Xiao Yu's waist, the desire that had been suppressed all night pouring out of him. Clearly, he had been born gay. Lin Yan hopelessly squeezed the ghost's waist. His heart was angry but his body felt like it was being electrified. Right up until Xiao Yu peeled off the thin pair of boxers he was wearing, his cold palms had been rubbing against his already very reactive member through the white cotton underwear.

"Go away." Lin Yan shook his head helplessly with a low voice: "Don't touch me."

The man's expression in front of him didn't change. His eyebrows stretched to his temples and the steam formed tiny droplets of water on his jade-like face, soaking his freshly washed black hair, it sticking to his face. His thin lips looked like they had been smeared with honey. The ghost couldn't blush, nor could he tremble and sweat like Lin Yan. Lin Yan panted heavily with Xiao Yu's movements, raising his gaze to stare at those chaotic eyes. Not a hint of clarity could be seen in them at this point. They looked like the eyes of a beast, filled with the intent to kill, holding no remorse. Xiao Yu hooked the edge of Lin Yan's underwear with his fingers, wrapping his hand around the limb that enthusiastically popped out.

A string of sparks exploded in Lin Yan's mind, the intense pleasure making him unable to resist biting down on the ghost's shoulder.

"Xiao Yu. . . you're already dead. . ."

". . . Please, don't. . ."

"Xiao Yu. . . let me go."

Lin Yan shook his head uncomfortably, one hand hooked around Xiao Yu's neck as his hand jerked, breathing more and more rapidly. Xiao Yu clenched his waist and spun him around so that he had to cross his legs around the other's hips, the stiffness between his thighs rubbing against Lin Yan's stomach. The shame and frustration of it all made Lin Yan unable to control himself. He must be going crazy. None of this should be happening. Ghosts and humans are two very different things. Even though he knew that the ghost was there to take his life, he couldn't resist. His heart was on fire, the steam in the bathroom felt boiling hot, the thrill of ravenous pleasure making him burn from the inside out.

"Don't touch me anymore. . ."

"Please, please, Xiao Yu. . . I feel like I'm dying. . ."

"I want, I want. . ." Lin Yan's nose was soaked in beads of sweat, and his cheeks were flushed. He was flustered, talking nonsense like a beast in heat. Xiao Yu pulled his face towards him and kissed him again. Lin Yan stuck his tongue into Xiao Yu’s mouth and wrapped his lips around his to deepen it. The hand that was gripping Xiao Yu's shoulder was caught and led down to hold the large object pressed against his stomach. The two were entwined in the tub, moving in each other's hands.

Desire overtook him. Lin Yan whimpered and bit Xiao Yu’s neck. His hand was covered by Xiao Yu, leading him to grasp the two members touching each other. The almost masturbatory action completely shattered his self-esteem. At the same time, the desire that he had secretly concealed for years was magnified beyond what he could bear. In front of him was the nape of Xiao Yu's neck and the indentation of his collarbone. The hot organ between his thighs rubbed against Xiao Yu. The hot water came up just high enough to cover the frigid body of the other person. Lin Yan put his damp head on Xiao Yu's shoulders. His body arched. He let out a low groan and a white cloud was released all over Xiao Yu's body.

He must be crazy. Lin Yan panted heavily on Xiao Yu's shoulder. His vision was a bit blurry, but the eyes of the person under him seemed to grow cold for a moment. Before Lin Yan was able to calm himself down, Xiao Yu abruptly pushed him off and rolled out of the tub.

"What are you doing?" Lin Yan asked tremblingly on the edge of the bathtub.

Xiao Yu didn't respond. He picked up the shirt with a snake pattern embroidered on it that Lin Yan had thrown on the chair and draped it over his body. He turned his back to him, fixed his hair and tied the belt around himself. He looked back at him with a pair of cold black eyes filled with contempt, marched out of the bathroom and slammed the door heavily.

There was a muffled sound.

Lin Yan lay in the bathtub alone, clutching at the cold ceramic tiles with his soaking wet hands, unable to even get a word out.

With a small click, the light came back on.

[The author has something to say: it's spoiler time! The monster-catching squad is getting together again, and it's not to catch Xiao Yu this time, but a . . . Xiao Yu will be here as a monster catcher this time, too! The husband and wife are quarrelling. Warm and hearing little paragraph~

I'll explain the nature of ghosts. It was originally the task of the little Daoist priest in the following chapters, but since everyone is asking me, I'll tell you in advance. In the Maoshan religion, ghosts are creatures that are inferior to the living. They can cultivate into an ethereal body, and then a real body, which means that even the most powerful ghosts have to head towards the living realm to increase their power. Xiao Yu, as a ghost who has cultivated his true body, can control his form and maintain his human desire (lol, this is very important!). He's more like a demon or a monster than a ghost, lol~

He can sleep. I think it’s just a habit of being a human being. He can talk. Of course ghosts can talk. Xiao Yu’just degraded a bit after staying in the dark for a long time. He will naturally change back when he gets along with Lin Yan. . . He will become more and more like a human being. After all, he wants to marry a wife, right?]

[wakeup-anxiety-repeat]

Hibachi (modern! AU)

Childe x Zhongli

Genshin Impact

~

It was another Friday night. The streets of Liyue were busy, but they often were during the weekends. Zhongli stared out his apartment window at the crowded streets, the loud noises of car horns and people piercing the usual silence of his apartment. He brought his cup of black coffee up to his lips and took a sip, finishing the last of what was left. Moving to a couch on the other side of the room, Zhongli mindlessly picked up his phone, the screen flashing on to show a picture of him and a certain Harbinger he had found himself enamored with.

‘Friday… Is he finished with work?’ Zhongli pondered to himself, ultimately deciding to unlock his phone and send a quick text to said Harbinger, asking if he had. After sending it, Zhongli took a moment to gaze at the profile picture of the person he was texting, a selfie that they had taken as a joke. It didn't take long for a response to arrive, confirming the Harbinger was out of work and, all of the sudden, on his way over to Zhongli’s apartment. There was barely a wait between receiving the text and hearing a knock on his door. Standing up, Zhongli walked over, looked through the small glass window, and opened the door. “Childe.”

“What’s up? You didn’t have work today?”

“I did not.”

“Your schedule is weird, you know.”

“Hm.” Childe lazily walked over the couch and flopped down on it as Zhongli closed and locked the door.

“You know, Mr. Zhongli-”

“Zhongli.”

“Huh?”

“...Without the Mr., if you don’t mind.”

“Alright, sure. Anyway…” There was a slight pause as Childe processed what Zhongli had said before continuing, “I like where I work, I really do,” Childe flipped over to lay on his stomach, laying his head on top of his arms that rested on the armrest of the couch (it wasn’t really that comfortable in his opinion, but he did it anyway), “but even I get tired sometimes, you know?” Zhongli walked over to where Childe was.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Childe once again shifted his position.

“This is your place, you don't have to ask me.” He sat down next to Childe and Childe laid his head on Zhongli’s shoulder.

“Are you hungry?”

“I could eat. Are you hungry?”

“Somewhat.”

“Where’re you thinking?”

“If I remember correctly, a Hibachi place opened up near here recently. My treat.” Childe tiredly laughed.

“You say that like money is the issue here. But sure. That sounds good right about now.” Standing up and stretching, his shoulders giving off a satisfying ‘pop’, Childe turned to face Zhongli. “Lead the way.” One short walk later in the mildly cold temperature accompanied by small talk and they were standing in front of the new restaurant.

“That didn’t take as long as I thought it would.”

“How long did you think it would take?”

“Um… Longer than it did...?”

Zhongli shook his head and once again looked at the restaurant. “Were we supposed to make a reservation or something of that sort?”

“I… dunno.”

“It doesn’t look very crowded.”

“Well, time to find out.”

The two walked in and, after a short talk with the person at the counter who happened to recognize Childe, they had their own table in an area with no other people.

“Word of your influence travels fast.”

“Haha! I don’t have that much influence! I owe it to the boss!”

“She does have quite the amount of power, and not just around this area either.”

“Gotta say, it’s kinda convenient sometimes. So, what’re you thinking of getting?”

Zhongli held up the menu and scanned it. “Perhaps the shrimp or the steak. You?”

“Hm… the steak does sound good… Why not get both?”

Zhongli nodded. “Perhaps that would be best.”

There was a slight pause before Childe waved over a server; the two placed their orders and they were told the chef would be there shortly.

“I’ve never really known what people see in getting their food made in front of them. What about it do they enjoy so much?”

“Perhaps the spectacle. The chefs make the food in an artistic way, I believe.”

“You believe? You’ve never been to a Hibachi before?”

Childe’s surprise was evident on his face. Zhongli had been alive for so long, how had he- ‘Forget it,’ he thought, shaking his head, as if to get rid of said thought. The noise of a rolling cart drew their attention and Childe watched as the man pulled in in front of the stove that was in front of the two men. Childe continued talking to Zhongli, paying him no mind.

“How have you never been to a Hibachi before?”

“It never crossed my mind to go to one.”

“But,” Childe waved off the chef who was going to pour some concoction called “sauce” into two small dishes, and the man put the dishes away. “Somehow you knew that the food here was good.”

“Have you been to one?”

“I have.”

“Yet you also did not know whether or not to place a reservation.”

“I usually don’t, and I wasn't sure if being with another person made a difference.”

“I suppose it did not.”

Zhongli cast a quick glance to the chef, who wore a slightly miffed expression on his face as he made the food, seemingly upset at being ignored. Childe turned to face the man. “Something wrong?”

“N-No! Not at all!” the chef had seemed to recognize Childe in that moment, his expression quickly shifting. There were a few minutes of silence as the two men watched their food get cooked and served to them for a bit before resuming their conversation, uninterested in the display.

“So how did you know that the food here was good anyway?”

“I was informed by Ningguang that this type of place was good on multiple occasions. She seems to go to this type of restaurant often, and was the one who informed me that there was one opening near my residence.”

The chef placed the last of the food onto the two men’s plates and bowed, uttering a “Thank you” and quickly walking away. Childe’s gaze scrutinized him as he left.

“You know, I don’t think we should tip him.”

Zhongli chuckled and began to eat his food before making a remark.

“I believe I see where you were coming from earlier.”

“Hm?” Childe fumbled with his chopsticks, attempting to pick up some fried rice. He let out a quiet cheer upon success, sending a mock glare towards the spoon and fork sitting on the napkin next to him.

“On why people found this interesting. I fail to see why as well. It was… not as artistic as I thought it would be.”

“Well, I did tell you I didn't know why! My point,” Childe lifted up the small cup of green tea he had ordered earlier and took a sip, “has been proven.”

Zhongli nodded and looked at his plate of food, continuing to eat.

“But wouldn’t Ningguang have informed you that the display was uninteresting?” Childe moved to stab something with his chopsticks until Zhongli took them out of his hand and replaced them with a fork.

“You could at least try to convince me you really were practicing by using the proper etiquette.”

Childe pouted before Zhongli continued.

“Ningguang most likely does not pay attention to such things. She is more interested than the cuisine than any spectacle that may come with it.”

At this point, the two were nearly done with their meals, but both felt as though they had eaten enough.

“Should we ask for takeout boxes? We could take the leftovers with us.”

Childe nodded and, once again, waved over a server. He casually asked for two boxes and the check, which arrived swiftly. Childe reached to grab the book that held the check when Zhongli grabbed it from right in front of him.

“I told you it would be my treat, did I not?”

“And here I had thought you forgot and I would be able to treat you.”

“You do that enough already, I believe.”

Childe laughed lightly but made no attempt to argue. After quickly paying, the two men were out the ornate glass doors and back outside.

“So. Do we head to your place or mine?”

“Considering that we would have to walk a much farther distance to reach your place, I propose we return to my apartment.”

“Alrighty then, shall we?”

“Indeed.”

It wasn't long before the two found themselves standing in front of the lightly painted door, Zhongli, once again, remarking on how it was still chilly out. The cold only got worse as it got later in the night. Zhongli fished the key out of his pocket, then unlocked and opened the door while Childe grabbed his leftovers and moved to put them in the fridge.

“Should I assume that means you will be staying over today?”

“I dunno. Should you?” Childe walked out of the small kitchen and over to where Zhongli was standing, once again in front of the window that overlooked Liyue. He rested his head on Zhongli’s shoulder.

“Do you miss how it used to be?”

Zhongli quietly sighed. “Part of me does, and part of me does not. While I am happy to see how much this place has changed without my guidance, there is a piece of me that wished they still looked to me for such things.”

“If you could, would you go back to that time?”

“Hm…?”

“That time where the people looked to you for guidance.”

Zhongli chuckled and moved away from the window to sit on the couch. “I would not.”

Childe tilted his head as if to question Zhongli’s response.

“There are things that I would miss if I were to go back to that time.”

“Oh? And what would those be?”

“That is something for me to know.”

“What?! You’re no fun!” Childe moved to sit next to Zhongli. “Tell meeeeeeeeeee!”

“I will not.”

“Come on! Why not?!”

Zhongli simply laughed and shook his head.

“You really are no fun,” Childe pouted, an upset look on his usually cheery face. Zhongli looked at him and smiled.

“You might not agree with my reasons if I told you.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because my reason… is sitting right next to me.”

Childe paused to process Zhongli’s words, a light blush rising to his face. “That’s… That’s a bit… cliché, don’t you think?”

Zhongli smiled once again. “Yes, but it is the truth.”

[blaiddydbrokeit]

Family (Garm and Lloyd centric, domestic fluff drabble)

“My son… Look at you…so grown up, and yet so painfully thin...”

Lloyd couldn’t stop himself from a weak chuckle. Of course he would say that. He shrugged like it was no big deal. 

Wrong move.

Garmadon gripped his shoulders, letting out a shuddering sigh before his lips tug up into a rather scheming smile. “I’m going to make you your favorite dumplings and fill you up until you’re no longer a skeleton.”

No one had heard such a line spoken so threateningly before. And yet the atmosphere was so light and humorous. The battle was won. They could rest a little now. Garmadon picks up his exhausted son, and the wacky little group heads back indoors. Repairs to the monastery would come later. 

Lloyd didn’t remember much of what happened next though. One moment, he had been reveling in his father’s arms, finally alive and good-hearted, and the next he was waking up from murky darkness in his own bed, covered in layers of fleecy blankets.

His heart begins to skip a beat as sweat forms on his skin. Was all of it a dream? Were the Oni even defeated, or ever came to Ninjago to begin with? Is his father- Is he even-

A warm scent breaks him out of his questioning thoughts, and his heart reflexively settles at its familiarity. Noodles in shrimp broth. The wafting fragrance was spreading from the kitchen in the monastery. Lloyd couldn't help but follow the familiar scent all the way to its source, slow on his shaking legs (seriously how long has he been out)? 

As he enters the kitchen, Garmadon notices him, and Lloyd froze like a child caught doing something naughty. However he gives off carefree laughs at his reaction. "Hungry, aren't you?" 

A deep growl from Lloyd’s stomach was the only response he could give.

Garmadon laughs as he begins to serve up the meal. He sits the blonde boy at the table, and gently places down an enormous bowl, steaming hot and full of delicious looking noodles, topped with a generous pile of dumplings and shrimps. As if Garmadon hadn't already gone over the top with the portions, he slides another plate full of pan-fried potstickers. 

Lloyd grimaced at the spread of food before him. Did his father really think he could stomach this much food? He doubted even Cole could. 

Garmadon placed his still warm hand on Lloyd's shoulder and asked, in concern: "Lloyd? Why aren't you eating? You need some nourishment."

Lloyd relaxed slightly at the warmth, picking up his cutlery, his hands trembling ever so slightly. He stirs the noodles hesitantly with the chopsticks and begins to eat.

Almost like a trance he'd suddenly been lapsed into, the nostalgic and authentic taste of his father's absolutely divine cooking overwhelmed his senses. Overcome with emotions; Lloyd did not realize he had picked up the bowl, scarfing down the contents as though he hadn't eaten in weeks. When he finally lowers the bowl in a bid for breath, he comes to the realization he had unknowingly emptied the entire bowl. 

"Oh…" he groaned, stifling a little burp.

"My, you really are starved. Here, the potstickers should help fill you a little more" Garmadon warmly remarked as he shifted the dishes so that the plate of potstickers were in full view and reach of Lloyd. Lloyd was already so full, and yet somehow, something was compelling him to practically inhale the entire plate worth of potstickers anyway. One bite was all it took to make his decision for him, the irresistable taste urging for more. Slowly but surely, the plate was emptied.

He'd finished all the food prepared for him! Lloyd leaned back in the chair, completely and utterly stuffed. He felt so bloated, his stomach full, warm and heavy with food. Resting a hand on his slightly bloated belly, he sighed in relief and contentment. His father only looks on in mild amusement and surprise. "Goodness, what an appetite! I suppose I'll have to make your next meals just as hearty then!"

Lloyd couldn’t help it. He teared up, a wave of emotion coursing through his soul. “I missed you…” he whispered.

Garmadon reached over, placing a hand gently on his son’s own. “I’m here now…”

The pair had returned to Lloyd's room, the elderly man bundling the youthful blonde back into blankets in bed with a firm insistence on rest. Lloyd, for once, felt sleepy as he drifted off to sleep, warm both inside and out, the last thing he knew before his eyes shut was his father's dry calloused hand gently patting his back.

The next few days felt like an absurd flurry of events. The gate was being repaired, the debris had to be cleared and the lamps replaced. A mural was being plotted upon the yard's walls, a depiction of the legacy of the big found family. And yet, even with so much to be done, Garmadon had somehow found the time to cook up a storm, feasts fit for gods in enourmously generous portions that found its way into Lloyd's stomach. The young boy quickly found himself much hungrier - the anticipation of food made so lovingly by his own father. He ate with vigor and voracity unrivaled, an appetite of inhuman proportions.

Garmadon could not be a prouder father. Lloyd had saved him time and again, and to be able to express his love for the teenager through his cooking that seemed to trigger such eagerness in his son, only steeled his resolve to nurse his dearest only child back to the pink of health. Lloyd was still awfully thin, undeniably, but it was clear to all who passed by that the adolescent was beginning to regain a healthier complexion. He just needed more rest, and a bigger abundance of rich heavy meals - plenty of meat and proteins. The oni and dragon blood in Lloyd would hopefully respond readily to the avalanche of nutrients that was to flood his body.

Three meals a day with everyone else quickly grew to include several extra private meals - just Lloyd and Garmadon, the former packing delicious food away most impressively, and the latter cooking just as impressively and accompanying the conversations. It had been a little over a month since the battle, the mural well under way. But the walls were not the only things that began to flush with vibrance. Lloyd had visibly begun to fill out, thriving under the ample love of Garmadon. The fair-haired young man no longer looked sickly pale, a dusting of rose over his cheeks bringing life and color into his face. It was a most precious sight.

The days of peace since the victory against the Oni still felt foreign and strange to everyone in the monastery - for once, there was no one to be fighting, no plans to be rushing. It was all a time of quiet serenity well-deserved. And it was just exactly what Lloyd needed. Having his needs met - a loving parent, a surplus of delicious meals to nourish him, and a lack of constant stress had certainly helped his rest. What had been nights of tossing and turning within nightmares he had to face alone had become long bouts of untroubled slumber. It wasn't long before everyone was pleasantly surprised - for the first time, Lloyd looked relaxed, laughing cheerfully, carefree and genuine. He was running about with the energy he had seemed to lack more and more over the years, his eyes shining with cheeky excitement and vitality. Almost like the child he never got to be.

The liveliness within the Monastery only seemed to grow with his recovery. More time was spent as a family, whether it was in the kitchen learning to cook with his father and Zane, or standing out in the yard eagerly chattering the night away while Kai manned the grill, serving up helpings of perfectly grilled meat with fiery flair that never failed to make eyes roll at his dramatic ways. The family was whole and together again, it was all they could have asked for.

It was almost in a blink of an eye when the Winter solstice came and went, as a new year drew ever nearer. One who saw Lloyd now would've hardly recognized him. No longer was the green ninja scrawny and sickly - no, he had a flourishing glow of health about him that could light up any room with his cheeriness, his now slightly podgy build showing the bounteous love that he received from his family. Garmadon had never dropped his hobby of cooking, and with the help of the ninja, found his new calling. He opened a restaurant that soon became well known for its homely atmosphere and its heartwarming dishes, a direct competitor to the major chain of Mister Chen Noodle House restaurants throughout Ninjago. Wu too, had found his peace in retirement, spending many a day in the monastery carefully calligraphing the chronicles of Ninjago's history.

After all this time... it seemed that the First Spinjitzu Master had finally given its protectors the happily ever after they deserved. Or has he?

[dragonagecompanions]

hi there, so in love with your works. Seriously *bows head* thank you all so much. If its not too bad, I wanted to know how everyone in DAI from the advisors to the companions would react to a teen inquisitor who is brilliant at cooking? Yet the inquisitor has no idea about people from Leliana's agents to everyone else pinching her food.

Cassandra: She thinks she is being sneaky and subtle, insisting that because of their age and responsibility it is better for their young herald to stay close to camp and not take a watch when they leave Skyhold. There will be time for that when they are older, and bearless of a burden. If they will take on the difficulty of closing the rifts, then the most they should have to do is help around the camp, and after a long day nothing is appreciated more than hot food.

No one contradicts her, and the Seeker is left to silently congratulate herself on enjoying the absolutely divine way that their young leader has with rabbit and Hinterland herbs without making the Inquisitor feel worthless.

(And if everyone else lets her take a lead on that because she has mattered the speech, well...it’s really good stew.)

Varric: Damn, this is the stuff. Its like being back in the Hanged Man, except the bread is trying to actively strange him, and the pies aren’t staring back and.. 

It’s nothing like the Hanged Man, really, but the sheer comfort of phenomenal food at the end of the world? The same kind of warmth as sitting with your friends as the city goes to shit and laughing at a joke no one else gets. Their young protagonist has a good skill set on their hands, and If Varric’s writing table moves a little closer to the door into the kitchens, well.

Keeps the ink from freezing.

Solas: It had been a passing comment about the frilly cakes in Val Royeaux,  some exchange of banter with Varric about time passing and philosophy and the unending banal that one takes on to keep the miles from turning monotonous. He’d had no idea the Herald was listening, and so it makes it all the more touching when- after waqving to them as they take on the climb to the library- he comes down from his painter’s perch to find three petit fours waiting for him on his table. 

It drives home that they are a thoughtful young person, so different from the rest of this world, and if he uses the sweetness of the frosting and cake to drive away the twinge of guilt that his plans still move at speed....it does not take away from their talent, or their kindness. He will be content with that.

Blackwall: Food is food, particularly on the road. Hard tack and sausage has kept many a soldier alive, and he is the last person you’d hear complaining that he can’t put his pinky out eating meat from a spit. Luxury is for soft handed nobles, not men and women striving to make the world better. Let them have the best cuts-- Blackwall would starve before he robs true heroes of a hot meal.

And yet the first time he comes back from gathering firewood to find that the reason the inquisitor was tying so much string around the side of a wild hog was to make a porketta, and he got a good whiff of roasted pork slowly spinning in it’s own drippings....It would be a harder sacrifice. It made the Inquisitor so happy to watch their work be enjoyed and help people though, that it would the crueler not to take some. 

And if he dreams about the tender meat and crispy skin all perfectly seasoned and roasted for days afterwords, that’s no one’s business of his own. 

Vivienne: She cuts an imposing figure, and for the Madame de Fer is quite proud. It has cowed more than one recalcitrant novice into place with only a long legged stride alone, and for that she is a legend in her circle. Of course the stories do not tell how she would never be cruel or unfeeling to a child, and particularly not one far from home and frightened of every shadow like the ones that the Templars rip from families and depost in a new and strange place.

She expects a similar attitude from the young Herald, particularly after her (rahter stunning) entrance on their first meeting. And perhaps they were a bit overawed, but before it could become something she needs to address Lady Vivienne is pleasantly surprised to find their young leader coming to her for advice from a letter from some minor Orlesian lord. And while surely it will be up to Josephine to craft the response Vivienne is delighted that the Inquisitor wants her input.

That they went to the effort to bring beignet’s with them as a bribe...For that, she will give them every secret of the author’s well kept family scandals. 

Sera: Their Bitty Herald can make cookies better than Sera can make cookies, but they aren’t the kind that you throw at people as a prank or that come out all rock hard and brown and blegh. They are the soft gooey kind that make you want to steal the whole plate and eat them on your roof but also throw the plate at their Quizznitor because....because cookies!

She will trade pranks for cookies, who ever her Jenny in training wants to see doused in water or flour or...or...pudding! Pudding for cookies is the most fair.

Dorian: Southern food is bland and tasteless, and Skyhold’s resident ‘Vint will endure it for as long as he must to help defeat this ancient magister and get things on the right track. And the beer isn’t the worst, much to his own dismay as his delicate palette accepts the swill. But the food is all friend or brown or smothered in gravy, and he’d just as soon not.

So when they finally stop for the night under the endless web of branches that keep the sky from meeting the Fallow Mire, the pond water full of dead people sounds more appealing than one more night of Varric’s nug stew. Which makes the fact their valiant young Herald just ladled him a bowl of Minestrone so much more impressive. Their shrugged explanation of ‘I’ve always wanted to make it and the merchants had actual artichokes on the way here and you can tell me if I got it right’ does nothing to take away the warmth and delight the gesture brings to him. 

It would be like coming home, if anyone had ever made sucha rustic and delightful soup for him without strings and hooks attached in Tevinter, and for the first time on the whole mission Dorian isn’t chilled the rest of the night. 

The Iron Bull: He isn’t sure which one of the Chargers talks to the Herald (lies, it was  Krem), but one night half the fortress is piled into the Rest and the Inquisitor is waiting with four bowls of unreadable origin. The explanation that these are four kinds of curry and each is hotter than the last is the best gift he’s ever gotten, but the wager of a single coin (he won’t steal more than that from the kid) that the Iron Bull can’t finish them for the spice is even better. 

Three hours later finds him chewing on one of Stitche’s poultices for a burnt tongue (and throat and stomach and probably ass in a few hours) but one coin richer and hoarse voiced from the roaring laughter he’d gotten after a straight face convinced Krem to try the last bown and he’d literally wept.

Good times. 

Cole: The nug is made of bread, and it isn’t a nug but it looks like one. And it’s wearing a tiny hat! ‘Roll the dough out, has to be thin so it rises to keep the shape, he likes nugs so much and doesn’t ask for anything and Sera bet me I couldn’t.’ You made it for me. Thank you! He says hello back!

Josephine: When their ambassador hears that not only does the Herald have an aunt who married into a merchant house in Antiva but the inquisitor spent a summer there and learned to make authentic Paella, Lady Montiliyet’s mind is a whirlwind of plans and thoughts of just the appropriate bribe that would spare her from getting down on her knees and begging a fifteen year old to make her favorite dish. Eventually Leliana gets tired of little doodles of steaming bowls on all their meeting notes and sends a raven  three windows over, Josie, really with an ‘anonymous’ request to make it and leave it in the war room in exchange for a trade of equal value. 

And when Josephine finds out that all the Inquisitor wants is the creepy love letters from young  Orlesian nobles to go away, she takes great delight in her strongly worded letters to their mothers in between heaping mouthfuils of white wine rice and shrimp and the warm bite of saffron that will always be home.

Leliana: It is written on no report or schedule, and her agents will go to the grave without speaking of it to another soul, but the Inquisition’s spymaster has a man in the kitchens whose only role is to fetch firewood and water and try to one day recover his shattered after a terrible mission in her service. It’s easy work for a man who gave so much, and somewhere he is able to do good work until the tremors and the nightmares stop. The kitchen staff is kind to him and treat him well, but his true mission is known only to himself and his mistress.

The second the herald starts making  Cassoulet he is to fetch her immediately. She won’t be caught in a meeting and miss her favorite food again, damn it.

Cullen: It’s hard for the Inquisitor’s commander to be at ease with someone who is both a child and at least nominally his leader. They are someone he wants to protect, but also the key to stopping the world and someone who must be on the front lines. That is gift alone to the world, but when the rumors begin to swirl that they will also go out of their way to make things that people like it brings a small smile to his face. The world would be better if had more people like the herald in it. 

Especially if they could all make little crocks of shepards pie like the one that sits on his desk after a day of long meetings and a lyrium migraine. That might make everything right again.

-- Mod Fereldone

[fandom-necromancer]

Fond memories

This was prompted on the Cyberpunk discord by Inquisitive! Hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Cyberpunk 2077 | Ship: V/Johnny

When V arrived at the narrow street the client had specified to meet up at, they were a little over an hour early. They had planned in more time for scouting the place first as usual, but that had taken them less time than first anticipated. The street was almost deserted, the whole area around it filled with apartments that were inhabited by those who could afford the city – neither poor nor rich but also the part of the population with the lowest crime rate. The small market next to it made it the perfect place to have an undisturbed talk while still keeping a low profile to any onlookers.

All in all, it meant waiting for V. Not one of their favourite activities, but also not the worst that could have happened here. They found a crate on the ground that looked at least mostly clean and  sat down, leaning back and absent-mindedly keeping an eye out for any person approaching or looking their way. They were sitting there for about ten minutes, when suddenly a familiar feeling smell wafted over. They couldn’t quite pinpoint where it was coming from, but they felt their stomach grumble as it was definitely the smell of freshly cooked food. They had smelled it before, but couldn’t remember in what context, only that it must have been a happy occasion as the memory of it was fond and V smiled faintly.

As if to interrupt that momentary happiness, Johnny appeared out of nowhere. V had been ready to sink back in on themselves, sigh and wait for the cocky bastard to disappear again, but something threw them off. Johnny wasn’t looking at them for once but towards the market with a similarly fond smile. V shook their head and groaned. ‘Is that one of your memories again?’ ‘Could be’, the engram answered absent-mindedly. ‘You may not know it, but not far from here there was a snack stall once that smelled just like that. Best food in Night city.’ V took in the scent more intentionally and frowned. ‘No, actually I think I do. Used to crash there a few times as a kid’ ‘We should go see if it’s still the same’, Johnny suggested, and V could feel his excitement.

V thought about it but shrugged and stood up in the end. They still had time until the client would be here and for once Johnny didn’t curse left and right. So, V followed the construct to the little shop, really not more than a snack bar with a few small tables. It was far from cosy but promised a refuge if you stumbled through the city drunk at 3 AM. And the food smelled heavenly.

V sat down on one of the bar stools at the counter and Johnny joined them on the empty one besides them. Looking at the menu, V smiled as their eyes fell on the mid-prized ramen they used to eat as a teenager running the streets unknowing their dangers and feeling like the world belonged to them. As they still had dreams and completely confident, they would reach them. ‘Sounds like a good time.’ V looked at the ghost next to them disbelievingly. Something genuinely nice coming from him of all persons? ‘Yeah, I know. Shocking’, he huffed and pointed over the counter. ‘Someone wants to take your order, V.’

They looked up and threw the woman an apologetic smile, ordering their food and watching how it was freshly made. Well as fresh as it was possible with mass produced noodles of unclear origin and scop-paste mixed into the soup to give it at least some nutritional value. But it was far better than the kibble from their childhood and that might be mostly why they remembered the smell so intensely. ‘I used to come here too. When I was still alive.’ V didn’t really indulge him with an answer, but at the same time didn’t show him where to stick those words, so quiet listening was already better than most of their talks. ‘Back when Samurai was still just a small band begging to play in some shady bar. We only just started and used to crash here after a gig. Good times.’ V received their bowl and plucked some chopsticks to start eating. It wasn’t good by any means objective, but nostalgia and the memories it brought up from two lives did their part making it the best goddamn ramen they had ever eaten. ‘Hard to think you consider something “good times” when you didn’t get to blow up something’, V commented while hastily eating only pausing to chew. ‘Music is…’ Johnny shook his head and looked away to the street. ‘Ah, fuck, why am I even bothering explaining it to some braindead merc, literally a living corpse…’

V sighed. They knew Johnny was just a program, the remnants of a person invading their brain and killing them slowly but surely. But it was easy to forget when the Rockstar-slash-terrorist sat next to them, his memories sometimes as vivid to them as if they were their own. V felt the way Johnny thought of his music: A desperate attempt at venting what the corporations had done to him? Maybe, but also a means of rebellion in a world that didn’t care, that crushed a single person and their needs like an ant on their path to money, fame and power. Johnny was an asshole. Someone who – ironically similar to the corpos – put himself first, the rest of the world second. He was someone who was blinded by their rage and vengeance and narcistic worldview. But somewhere, on a deeper level, V understood him. ‘Must feel like I’m fucking with your head if you come to that conclusion.’ It was spoken drily, but his tone had changed to something a tidbit more friendly. Or tired? ‘Well, no one knows how this shit works’, V commented. ‘Could be you already overwrote my mind. Could be that even a bad person can have logical reasons for their actions.’ ‘Talking philosophy, V? Looks bad on you. People that do so usually have a brain and use it.’ ‘Shut up.’

And there they were again. Shoved into a dead end of silence, left to their own thoughts that were automatically broadcasted to the other with only their unwillingness to speak about it as a fake façade of privacy. And worse, V felt bad about it for some reason. Neither of them were here on their own volition. Silverhand was dead, killed fifty years ago, soul pulled out of his body to waste an eternity in an endless incorporate cold. And V? V should have been just another body washed up in the see of mercenaries trying to make a name for themselves in a city that forgot them in a second. And maybe, just maybe, now it could be their chance to change something. If not in the world, then at least for the one of them that survived. V almost expected the construct to speak up at that thought, but Johnny stayed silent.

‘What did you eat when you were here?’, they tentatively asked, ready to regret the question immediately. ‘Thought I should shut up.’ ‘I have fifteen minutes until I have to meet up with the client. Either we talk or spend the time in silence.’ They lifted the bowl up and downed the water to get back to pick out the remnants of the noodles on the bottom. ‘The Pad Thai here is amazing. The way the shrimp taste you can almost forget they aren’t real.’ ‘Sounds good’, V mumbled, downing the rest of the soup and paying for their food.

‘I think I’ll try that next.’

[mae-gi-writes]

Deobi Playlist (EP 2) | The Boyz Imagine

The Boyz x Hospital Playlist inspired drabble series.

Episode 2: in which Hyunjae is a drama queen.

Genre: fluff, friendship, slice of life

EP 1 | EP 2 | EP 3 | EP 4 | EP 5 | EP 6 | EP 7 | EP 8 | EP 9 | EP 10 | EP 11

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

Hyunjae is in the middle of playing a battle game when the sound of someone busting the door open causes him to yelp, fingers slipping over the keyboard as he watches his character die in front of his very eyes. 

He swivels around in his seat, glowering with anger, “KEVIN!” 

“Oops,” the said man slides in, totally unfazed by the glare that would’ve killed anyone else off, before looking around at the empty office that is stacked with piles of paperwork, most of them probably belonging to Hyunjae since he had always been messy. 

“Where’s everyone?” Kevin frowns while checking his watch, “I thought we were having dinner tonight.” 

“Too slow, romeo,” a voice chimes from behind. The pair turn around to see Mae holding up three takeaway bags. Kevin squeals in delight, rushing over to throw his arms around her in a hug.

“You are the best,” Kevin singsongs before grabbing one of the bags. Mae tuts at him, “woah wait a minute Kev, that’s not--” 

Too late, for Kevin’s hands have already opened up the box. He stares at the multitudes of shrimp on a bed of fried noodles, and a grimace falls over his face, “ew no, that’s not mine--”

Mae proceeds to snatch it away, “that’s why I told you to wait,” she huffs, handing him his rightful dish; fried pork and vegetables with rice. 

“Wouldn’t mind having him choke on some shrimp,” Hyunjae mutters gloomily, still sulking in his desk chair like a five year old child being denied cookies. Mae’s brow quirks up in curious amusement, before they flicker towards Kevin. 

The latter, already stuffing his face in like he hasn’t eaten for days, mumbles out through a mouthful of rice and meat, “he’s mad ‘cause I distracted him and his character died. The usual.” 

“You always lose, anyway Hyunjae. It wouldn’t have made a difference,” Mae opens up her own takeaway, a Chinese Korean dish named Jajangmyeon. She motions him over, “come on.” 

But Hyunjae’s pout only deepens. He slides into his seat, unwavering.

“You sure you don’t want it?” she taunts him, “I ordered it specially for you.” 

Still, the caramel-haired man twists his head away adamantly. Mae huffs, turning back to roll her eyes at Kevin, “fine then, suit yourself. I’ll just--” 

Hyunjae’s out of his seat in mere milliseconds, grab his dish, and sits down onto the shared couch with crossed legs and face looking as though he’s going to murder anyone who even tries to get within touching distance. 

“By the way, you remember the patient I was telling you guys about?” Kevin says, chewing on a mouthful of food, “the one that had a weird extra bone in her foot?” 

“The one who kept asking you to marry her?” Mae confirms. 

“She mustn't have high standards,” comes Hyunjae’s mumble, causing Kevin to cluck his tongue at him in disapproval before answering, “yeah, we had to shave it off cause she’s a rising ballet star. Her mother was livid when she heard that she wouldn’t be able to dance for a good six months.” 

“Sunji, was it?” Mae asks. 

“She came to see me today,” Kevin beamed, warmth practically alighting over his face, “gave me flowers and a box of chocolate.” 

“Did she give you a ring too?” Hyunjae adds mockingly.

“At least she likes me,” Kevin retorts while sticking out his tongue.

“Please! It’s not like she had a choice. You’re the only doctor she sees.” 

"Just a game, Hyunjae," Kevin reminds him, gesturing towards the computer with a roll of his eyes since he knows exactly why the older man is being salty at this particular moment. 

“Do you know how much time and effort I took into staying alive all that time?!” Hyunjae shoots back, leaning forward in his seat, “It was my fifteenth time!” 

“It. Is. Just. A. Game,” Kevin’s words punch through like staccato notes.

“I care about that game, like it or not!” Hyunjae moans, “now my life is over!” 

“Shakespeare needs to see this,” Mae mumbles behind her bowl of noodles, “he would’ve loved to write a story about you.” 

“I think that’s the greatest compliment you’ve ever given me,” Hyunjae smirks.

“It’s...not a compliment.” 

“I hate you. I hate you both,” Hyunjae sniffs before pouting and looking away, once again the very picture of a spoiled brat. The pair meet each other’s eyes before Kevin throws Mae a shrug. 

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t raise him.” 

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

The week, it seems, keeps getting worse for the titled drama queen, who proclaims that the heavens must be against him this week and that his astrological must be definitely off balance. Hyunjae’s shifts seem longer, tougher to handle this week, while the line of patients have suddenly multiplied by a tenfold the moment he thought that he could use a bit of a break. A few nurses have taken some time off for some last-minute vacation, meaning that he’s had to scramble around for help with no assistant by his side to jot down his every day needs. 

Most of all, he still hasn’t been able to finish that damn game, and he has no one else to blame but dear Kevin for that. 

“You look like shit,” is the first thing that pops out of Juyeon’s mouth the moment he stumbles into their shared office. He’s looking particularly dapper, with his freshly cut bangs and his usually hooded eyes alight with a sparkle that can only mean one thing:

“Did you guys kiss or something?” 

Colour blossoms across Juyeon’s cheeks, hooded eyes widening in alarm, “What?” 

Seemingly undisturbed by lack of sensitivity, Hyunjae proceeds to shrug off his beige coat as he opens his locker, “you look like freshly snogged material." 

“I--That’s--That’s not--” Hyunjae can’t help but smirk at the flustered expression on the younger man’s usually bland face. One of his favourite pastimes is to make fun of Juyeon, mainly because he seems so much younger than what he appears to be, for they are only a few months apart in age. Not to forget the fact that he's so innocent, despite his mature, bedroom eyes and the lazy, sensual smile he gives to women. It's, as Hyunjae had once stated, incredibly misleading.

"Want to shadow my surgery?" Hyunjae asks, picking up his clipboard to scan the patient's profile. The younger man stretches out in his seat and yawned, "what kind?" 

"Brain tumor I believe."

"Hm, I might shadow noona--"

"Oh right, loverboy's got a girlfriend now," Hyunjae rolls his eyes and lets out a soft sigh, "ah well, I'll just get one of the newbies on board. I love teasing them."

"They're all scared of you, you know," Juyeon can't help but point out.

"Oh really?" Hyunjae flashes a wicked grin.

Juyeon proceeds to roll his eyes, "that is not a compliment."

"You know, Mae said the exact same thing."

"No surprise there."

A few hours and a long trail of patients later, Hyunjae lets out a loud, noisy sigh when he finally allows his body to flop in his office chair, his feet aching from constantly running back and forth between wards. Mondays are always especially tiring, but he's quite satisfied that most of his patients seem on the track to recovery. 

His hand quickly darts towards his mouse, when his phone suddenly rings. 

Pressing the device to his ear, he murmurs out a quiet, "hello?"

"Son," his mother's terse soprano echoes through the receiver, "how are you?"

"Are you stressed, Ma?" Is the first thing that pops into his mind. There's only two reasons why his mother would call; either 1) she wants to give him food or 2) she has fought with his father yet again. 

It is no secret that Mr. And Mrs. Lee have been living apart for more than seven years now. The scar that Hyunjae still bears is now covered by nonchalance, and the fact that his two parents have kept an amiable relationship has helped balance out his upbringing. He has to admit that for a child with divorced parents, they handled him pretty well.

"Can't I call to ask about my son?!" Mrs.Lee retorts back. 

"Ma."

"Alright alright," she huffs, "I might have made some extra Kimchi stew and--"

"Ma, I told you not to cook so much," Hyunjae groans, one of his hands going up to ruffle his hair, "can't you just freeze it?"

"Freeze Kimchi Stew? Are you insane? I would never! Anyway, I already let the leftovers with--"

Knock knock!

Hyunjae glances back just in time to spot Mae standing in the doorway,  holding out a cooler towards him. 

"Ah," Hyunjae gestures for her to come in, "you met Mae?"

"Right right! Such a wonderful girl that one! Are you sure you've never had anything for her?" 

"Ma--"

"No no, if you're going to tell me that you're just friends, I don't want to hear it."

"Listen Ma, she's--"

"I can't believe you didn't even try it out with her--"

"Hey Ma, I got a surgery soon," Hyunjae hurriedly says while watching Mae stuff the cooler inside the fridge he shares with Juyeon and two other doctors. He holds out a finger for her to wait, "I'll talk to you soon  okay? Okay. Bye."

Cutting off the call right before she's about to keep on insisting how amazing Mae would be as a wife, Hyunjae lets out another trepid sigh before shaking his head at the said woman, who's gazing at him with raised eyebrows. 

"My mother really wants me to go out with you," Hyunjae rubs a hand over his face, clipboard in hand, before following her out into the corridor.

"Yeah I know, she told me the exact same thing when I bumped into her in the lobby," Mae shoves her hands in her pockets, smiling slightly. 

"I mean, if you weren't so much into Kevin, maybe--"

He doesn't get to say anything more because of Mae's hand slamming down atop his mouth. He groans in part pain and part protest, "that hurts!"

"I should've sewn your lips shut when I still had the chance," Mae hissed under her breath, careful to drop her hand and smile as they pass by a group of older doctors. 

"You guys are like turtles. By the time you ask him out, you'll both be dead," Hyunjae mutters loud enough for Mae to hear. 

She scowls back, "last I checked, I was the only one who decided what I could and could not do with my love life."

"You're doing a terrible job of it."

"I am not!"

"Okay, then where are the four children you said you wanted!? That's all you could talk about in college!"

"I was young and stupid, as were you."

"Ah, to be young and in love again--"

"Hyunjae?" 

The pair turn instinctively towards the sound only to fall upon a familiar face, a face that Hyunjae remembers almost instantly as one of the girls who had pined after him for years' on end. He briefly recalls breaking her heart once and for all when she'd decided to give him a box of chocolates during their second year Valentines. 

"Oh," Mae seems to be thinking the same thing as he does, for she doesn't waste time to smile up at him, clap him on the back and say, "see you then!" 

 And she's off, running down the hallway and leaving him to deal with the awkward aftermath of a rejected confession. 

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

I honestly just love Hyunjae because he's so loud and annoying and straight up transparent. Surprisingly, I wasn't attracted to his physique as much as I was to his natural genuine personality.

Hope you enjoyed this one! Next Ep will be out on Monday!

Episode 3: in which Juyeon has a complicated relationship with food.

[quinezsvision]

I asked my father once, "Why do you spend so much money on expensive delicacies when you could for once purchase something else for yourself?"

"Food provides me something that things cannot. It can even be destroyed easily when not properly inspected. Will you gain sudden contentment and meaning to it? no", he simply replied.

1.7 million years ago, we were hunters known as homo-sapiens, survival was our only goal, most of the time, populations are found in the wild searching for edible plants and animals to anchor ourselves from supplementing our diet and extinction.

When humans discovered the presence of fire and understood how to generate and manipulate it – this is how civilization began.

All these years, food was our ally.

The distribution of food in principle has a plethora of options. Aside from the fact that food became the medium for religious practices, taxation, and even education, we also need to eat in order to assist the body to obtain sufficient oxygen, and the cells within our bodies to function significantly. In other words, nutrients provide information to the human body. If neglected, diseases and conditions including obesity/malnutrition, arthritis, diabetes, and heart disease may arise. Food became the medium for religious practices, taxation, and even education.

Due to my dietary restrictions, I don't typically eat in the morning, but today, May 28 2021, is an exception.

The taste of Japanese cuisine has always been exquisite in my palate. The degree of tastes and boundless elements that are combined only to produce a dish that will make you want to inculcate the cuisine is remarkable. To be completely honest with my readers, I was not alone when preparing the sashimi; beside to me was Analiza Duran, my aunt - the most influential person I know in my whole existence, famed for her cooking capabilities and managing households. Because it is not the standard homemade craving that is well recognized in our country, we are willing to offer our own experience, for a Filipino basic style preparation, which are some instructions you may follow below:

[✓] The style in choosing your fish depends on the length of preservation and freshness, there are a variety of sashimi you can ponder from such as tuna, salmon, scallop, squid, and more. Smaller ones are usually best devoured as soon as they are served. On the other hand, larger ones must be kept on ice for a few hours to allow their muscles to calm.

[✓] It's fine if you don't master the art of cutting, but just do your hardest to make it as thin as possible. In comparison to others, we usually add a sprite to it before completion.

[✓] The arrangement of sashimi to the platter depends on your likeness, it's not like you're trying to serve in a restaurant. Add the finishing condiments, such as soy sauce with matching calamansi and wasabi.

Indeed, a good morning for me & hoping hindi kita nabudol!

I'm always fascinated about how simple type of food, like "lumpia" known as "spring roll" in other countries, can be regarded as a classic and valuable delicacy that you can often see at every celebration in the Philippines.

As you can see, this is merely an indication that not only will feast's instagrammable photographs and breathtaking flavors be remembered, but the sentiments we've all cherished will live on in our hearts, minds and history eternally.

Our adaptation of lumpia, due to developing trends, is identical in form and structure in which its foundation comes from the Chinese who made a meal with the use of fresh vegetables accessible in spring after a winter of largely ingesting foods that are preserved. This cuisine is thought to have been introduced to Southeast Asia by Chinese immigrants from the Fujian region, and then became famous afterward. However, let's not forget about palabok, a somewhat salty sort of noodle that will undoubtedly fulfill your hunger with its variety of toppings.

My family opted to catch up around this time of day; we are using this practice to reconcile with one other after being diverted by work and personal selves. Even though my mother was often away from us, serving in Kuwait, I always took the initiative of reaching her via messenger.

If you are able to read this nanay, we miss you.

Without a doubt, I admire and even support all sorts of consumable products available on the market, from small local businesses to relatively known fast-food chains.

It's impressive how everyone has their own techniques for surviving the pandemic, and how people has shown diverse ways of improving food choices to make it unique in the minds of the public. And I'm the sort of person that gets dragged into these expenses. The dish seen above is known as takoyaki, another Japanese delicacy derived usually from octopus; depending on the quantity of ingredients used, it is generally salty and chewy. A flavor combination of kewpie mayo and takoyaki sauce is used to conceal the bland taste of the dough. In this restaurant, there was a variety of takoyaki options to satisfy your appetites, including octobits, shrimp meat, veggie style, baby octo, bacon bits, and each with a cheese bomb. If you purchase one, I recommend pairing it with matching boba milk tea.

The only drawback to ordering this food is that my sister rejects it.

"It seems strange to me as a kid, the external element of the meal isn't my vibe." – Kristine Joy Agustin

So, readers, don't become like my sister; you were born into this world to love all of the treasures that God has bestowed on us. Create provision for discovery rather than disappointing yourself in the latter because you won't attempt at all.

Support your kapwa Filipino: Ay!!! Takoyaki Atbp. Philippians St

The aroma of grilling and heating ramen noodles soup always reaches to me, and I never complain regardless of the fact that it goes all over my clothing.

You can be very flexible when devouring this asian cuisine because there are no set guidelines on what you may combine with one another. Personally, I choose samgyup as one of my top preferences because of the extensive meat assortment, which includes distinct slices of plain pork and beef slices. Alongside from the broad meat range, we like that the seller does not skimp on the grade of their meat, ensuring that it is still fresh and delicious. More dips to experiment with are also recommended; salt and pepper, gochujang, and cheese are some of my top picks. If you truly want to compete with samgyupsal establishments, you may go all out with side dishes like lettuce, rice, steamed egg, kimchi, and more.

Truly, There are a number of businesses that provide reasonable pricing, or you may simply do it in the comfort of your own home.

To end, the beauty of food speaks for itself; without it, we would not be alive to create amazing experiences. It serves as a reminder that as long as we have food to eat, we are fortunate, and as such, we should learn to return the favor to those in need. A huge gratification to those who are working their tails and brains off simply to feed their family and the world – beloved farmers and parents.

“Cooking is all about people. Food is maybe the only universal thing that really has the power to bring everyone together. No matter what culture, everywhere around the world, people get together to eat.” – Guy Fieri

How about you, what's your food journey?

[loftyexecutor]

reuniting the close

Rating; G WC; 1179 Characters; Error, Blueberror, Papy (US) Notes; Error finally asks BB a question that has been nagging him for a while. And discovers how it feels to do a good deed.

part 4 of Multiverse #379 AO3 mirror | Ko-fi

The Anti-void was filled with sound.

Things littered the expanse of white, from seats woven from blue strings to a magical oven softly humming. Error was used to his own only having a hammock and the tangled web of souls and puppets overhead, but he had to admit it felt less oppressive like this. Neither him nor BB were ones for overabundance or cluttering, but the few times the voices in his head had ceased, if only for a few moments, he almost wished them to return, to drown out the deafening silence again. BB didn't have voices that constantly argued in his head, so his relief was obvious, even if he tried to hide it. Template apparently never thought of it, since he didn't spend much time in the Anti-void, much less alone.

It brought up an interesting question, one that Error couldn't help but ask as BB cooked tacos on the oven that Error had stolen procured from Underfell. Old habits die hard, and the thought of asking Template to create one didn't even occur to him until the next day.

"You're an Underswap Sans, aren't you?"

BB looked up from stirring his meat mixture, cocking his head to the side. "Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering, cause you stay here an awful lot. Why don't you go back to your universe?"

BB turned back, so Error couldn't see his expression, but the tension in his shoulders was palpable. "I can't let Papy see me like this," he muttered, almost too quiet to hear, nothing but a breath. But this was the Anti-void and nothing could mask a sound here. "It's better he thinks I'm gone."

Error frowned. That didn't really sound like a swap's line of thought. What he knew of Underswap was mostly through Blue, when he kept the shortcake as a prisoner — until Fate grew sick of his incessant attempts to befriend her tool and forced him to get rid of him in favor of doing his job . Blue had been overjoyed to see his brother again.

"I dunno, I think he'd be pretty happy," he said. "You're still his brother."

BB's shoulders hunched up further. His voice sounded more like static and less like words. "You really think so?"

"If I had a brother..." He didn't, or if he did have one, he couldn't remember him. "I think it'd hurt to lose him. If he was alive, I'd want him to come back."

BB didn't say anything, just kept up his cooking, so Error, thinking the conversation was over, returned to his knitting. Time was arbitrary in here, but it was a while until BB came over, a plate of tacos in hand. He fidgeted by the hammock, looking from Error to the plate and back, over and over.

"Do you..." he mumbled, nothing more than a breath, and Error knew this was important to him, knew on some deep level, so the half-finished sweater was set aside haphazardly and the plate taken from BB's hand.

He stared up at the other glitch; Error didn't rush him. He wasn't good with this emotion crap, but he tried. BB had tried for him, so it was only fair he tried in return, right? That was how it worked, right?

When he reached out and placed his hand onto BB's shoulder, there was no pain, no stream of glitches enveloping his phalanges. BB stared at his hand, apparently just as surprised by this as Error was.

It took another long minute (or an hour) of silence for BB to speak up again. "Do you really think… he'd still like me?"

Error wasn't sure of many things, but this was one of those he was. "Yeah."

BB was trying, but it was obvious those were tears gathering in his sockets. "Would you come with me?"

"Right now?"

BB glanced at the tacos and then grinned. It looked nowhere near his usual smile, but Error decided not to comment on it. "I thought, maybe… he'd like a taco, too. To know… that it's me."

Error's hand, still on BB's shoulder, was starting to burn. He took it off and handed the plate back to hide it. "Sounds like a plan. Come on, shrimp."

As much as BB seemed on board, when Error opened a portal, eyelights rowing the lines of code to see if it was the right one, he froze up. Slow and steady, Error had to remind himself. He'd always done everything fast, rushed by circumstances, by his adversaries, by Fate. He never had the luxury of slowing down, not for himself, much less anyone else. But BB deserved it.

Finally, they stepped through the portal. It spat them in the living room — lights on, TV running, and Papy laid on the couch. Empty cigarette packs littered the coffee table, the floor, even the couch itself. It looked like he hadn't moved for a while, but the moment the portal fizzed out, he was upright and staring at them.

"Papy…?" BB breathed, nigh silent. He was gripping the plate in his hands like a lifeline.

Papy gaped like he was seeing a ghost. He looked BB up and down, took in the blackened bones, the starry markings, the clothes, the eyes, the glitches that surrounded him like an angry swarm of bees. "Sans…?"

For all his attempts not to cry so far, BB burst into tears immediately, the plate falling from his hands as he all but threw himself at his brother. Error barely caught the china in his strings, rationalizing that BB would be upset if the one thing that got him to come here got destroyed. Papy, meanwhile, caught BB and held him like one might a delicate doll, like his brother could and would disappear at any moment, any time he blinked.

"Oh, stars… it is you, isn't it? You're alive… you're safe ," Play blabbered, voice lingering on the thin line between a sob and a laugh. He crushed BB to his chest as he cried, voice warbled by static and glitched stuttering.

Error looked away, staring at the wall instead, because it felt wrong to watch this private moment. As unseemingly as possible, he placed the plate onto the table and made himself a portal back home. Funny, when did he start thinking of this Anti-void as a home? He didn't feel like delving into it.

BB and Papy had gotten past the tears stage by then and sat on the messy couch, Papy talking too fast about something that eluded Error. Just as he was stepping through, he caught BB giving him a teary-eyed, grateful look.

His soul gave a violent twitch within his ribcage, followed by almost glitching itself out of it, and Error had to stand still, waiting for it to pass. Was this what doing a good deed felt like, or was it just how happy BB had looked? That expression was going to haunt Error's thoughts forever now.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to regret cajoling BB into this. Not of it made him happy.

[aurora-the-kunoichi]

For the Love of Shell- Chapter 38

Here is chapter 38 of my Oc story! 

Full Story here

With winter come and gone, spring and summer came rushing in. The dreary slush and ice melting away to flowers and flowers gave way to hot summer nights. It was hard to believe the year was already half way over with.

They continued to keep the purple dragons check with the police, their mutant presence known within its ranks. They had yet to meet the brains behind the operation, Hun, but it was only a matter of time before he would make himself known and deal with them himself. They looked forward to that meeting maybe that could end this foolishness with his downfall.

The battle nexus championship was a just a week away, and everyone was beside themselves with excitement. Leo looked forward to seeing his friend Usagi again, along with showing what he and his brothers could do in the tournament. He was determined to have at least one of them win the championship, they had been training hard and hoped they deserved to at least make it to the finals.

Master Splinter was going to accompany them to the Battle Nexus but was not going to participate in the tournament, but he was looking forward to seeing his old friend the Daimyo. Leo sat on his bed sharpening his katana when he looked to the side of his bed and rested his eyes on the special bonsai tree that sat proudly on his night stand. Well maintained, green and lush, he took pride keeping the tree alive and well. It had been almost a year since they had seen Aurora last; her last painting had sold in Egypt for a substantial sum. Most of the proceeds were given to a local charity which didn’t surprise him in the slightest.

He hoped she was well and happy. Maybe she had a boyfriend? Maybe she was married? The thought suddenly made his heart drop into his stomach, rolling over on itself at the mere thought of her in someone else’s arms.

Shaking the unpleasant image from his mine he didn’t need to think about that. Besides he was the one to let Aurora go so foolishly, so he needed to stop thinking about her and learn to deal with the consequences. He allowed the tree to remain by his bed side as a reminder of the love they shared, that he had, had a glimpse of happiness for at a moment in time. He never wanted to forget the smell of her, the taste of her lips, the sound of her voice. Each of those precious memories were slowly slipping away as time went by. Vanishing from his senses like dust in a storm. It hurt to lose them like he was losing a part of himself as they faded from his mind. Selfishly he hoped she would attend the Battle Nexus championship, so he could see her once more, maybe refresh the happy memories of her sound and smell but knew she most likely wouldn’t. He imagined she had moved on making a new life for herself and wouldn’t trouble herself with a championship of mutants and aliens.

Leo imagined her lying on a beach in Egypt curled up on someone’s arms nuzzled into their armpit like she once did with him, kissing his lips. Shaking his head of the unpleasant thoughts again he finished sharpening his katana and made his way to the kitchen were Mikey had just finished preparing dinner for the family.

The entire family sat down at the kitchen table as Mikey set the large casserole dish filling with something delicious smelling on the makeshift trivet in the middle of the too small for four mutant turtles kitchen table.

Splinter leaned forward taking a low pull of the pleasant aroma his eyes closing in delight. “My son, your cooking skills have much improved over the past year. What is this dish called?”

“Shrimp and White Bean Cassoulet sensei.” Mikey smiled sitting down next to Raph who was already dishing up a sizable helping for their father.  

The old rat took a spoon full of the helping he was given and took a tentative bite. Mikey watched his father chew the food he made and waited with baited breath to see if he liked it or not. After what seemed like forever his father’s swallowed what was on his mouth and a giant smile broke over his face and took another bit bite. “You have outdone yourself Michelangelo. It is very good.”

After the approval of their father the rest of family eagerly dug in filling their bellies with Mikey’s new talent.

Raphael leaned back rubbing his now fully belly and gave his little brother a thumbs up. He could get used to the home cooked meals; he was beginning to get tired of pizza nearly every night. His eyes wandered over to his eldest brother, their leader. He seemed a little distracted as he played with his fork from across the table.

He was still angry with him but after time passed he begin to understand why he did what he did. Aurora deserved to be happy and if it was without them then he was ok with it. But damn did he miss her. “Penny for your thoughts fearless?” he finally asked tossing his napkin at the distracted turtle.

Raph smiled when his older brother caught the flying projectile without even looking up, his senses had definitely gotten better over the past year. Leo had been training pretty much nonstop most likely to keep his mind off of the forbidden subject in the lair. Aurora’s name had barely been mentioned since last Christmas. Leo took care of that bonsai tree like it was his child, tending to it every day without fail. He would admit he had spent a few times sitting on Leo’s bed staring at the tree imagining Aurora near death laying beside the small fragile sapling fighting with her body to stay awake, to stay alive. He would give the tree a mist of water before running his fingers over the green foliage before returning to his day. He knew Mikey and Donnie did the same, he had caught them both staring at the tree several times as well.

Finally Leo looked up from his fork and locked eyes with his hothead brother.

“Just thinking about the Battle Nexus Championship, trying to mentally prepare for it I guess. Looking forward to seeing Usagi as well, it’s been a year since we’ve seen him.”

“What about little bunny foo foo?” Mikey playfully cooed running his fingers up his older brothers arm. “I’m sure she’s gonna be happy to see you bro!” His eye ridges waged suggestively.

“Yeah she’s gonna be happy to find out your single.” Donnie chimed in taking another bite of casserole directly from the dish still sitting on the table.

Leo grunted in frustration at the nickname Aurora gave Asuna and shook his head letting his fork drop with a clang onto his plate. “Not interested, she’s the one who put doubt in my mind when we were there last.”

“What?” Raph suddenly got irritated eyeing his brother. “What did that fucking rabbit say about Aurora?”

“She asked me how long it would take for Aurora to realize that I couldn’t give her a normal life. I can’t marry her, can’t give her children. I can only offer seclusion and a sewer.”

“That bitch.” Both Raphael and Mikey growled.

“What makes you think you can’t give her a child?” Donnie cut in questioningly.

“Um..I’m a mutant turtle and she’s human.”  

Donnie leaned back in his chair and hummed his disappointment in his brother, “In theory there is no reason we can’t have children with humans. You forget we ourselves are half human with human DNA. I’ve analyzed my semen and found it nearly identical to humans. There’s no guarantee but it’s not impossible.”

“Donnie my boy, I don’t wanna know how you got your hands on human sperm to compare to your own.” Mikey laughed gathering up the remains of dinner before shuffling it off to the sink to soak the dishes.

“Sperm banks Mikey.”

“Ewwww!” the orange banded turtle grunted in disgust from the sink.  

Donnie shook his head pushing himself away from the table and began helping Mikey with putting away dinner. Gently nudging his younger brothers from the sink he took over the duty of washing the dishes.

Leo ignored his brothers, his thoughts lost to the pleasant thought of Aurora’s belly swollen with child…. their child. Lying in his arms her back resting against his plastron as his hands rubbed lightly across the taught flesh of her extended belly feeling their unborn child shift beneath his fingers. A genuine smile tugged at his lips as his fingers splayed across the table rubbing the formica top.

“Leo?” a deep voice broke him from his thoughts.

“Hmm?” Leo looked up to see Raph eyeing him cautiously.

“After we digest all this shrimp you wanna train?”

“Sure Raph.”

~~~~~~~~~

The four brothers sat in the poorly lit alleyway and watched their father draw the mystic symbols across the old bricks of the vacant building with white chalk. Each swipe of the chalk was smooth and calculated as his furry fingers drew the symbols from memory. Finally finished Master Splinter handed the chalk to Donnie who quickly placed it into his duffle bag. Taking a deep breath the old rat pressed his palms together in a praying pose and began to recite the incantation.

Slowly the water that lay in the alleyway rushed towards the symbols rolling up over the chalk outline merging and swirling into what looked like a water door. After a few moments the water congealed into a watery doorway and began to glow with a light blue hue. Splinter wasted no time and passed through the liquid passageway followed shortly by his four sons.

As the white light of the portal faded they found themselves in the bustling city of the Daimyo’s kingdom. The streets were teaming with anthropomorphic animals buying and selling wares seeming unfazed by the sudden appearance of five bodies through a portal.

Hoisting their bags over their shoulders they made their way through the market towards the Daimyo’s palace. They were invited by the Daimyo himself to stay in his home as they attended the battle nexus championship.

As they passed by the carts of goods eyes began to follow them, fingers pointing in their direction followed by excited mumbles. Young females of all species lined up on the street to stare at them eyes bright with enthusiasm.

“What was that about?” Mikey whispered to his older brothers eyeing the eager gazes in the crowd. The young turtle could feel the adrenaline start to race through his veins. This was exciting; it looked like they had been expecting them and thrilled to meet them, his baby blue eyes sparkled with anticipation.

Reaching the gates the large doors opened allowing the passage into the court yard. The main door slide open revealing the large ruler his arms outstretched in welcome as they approached.

“It is good to see you old friend.” The large man rumbled with laughter as his eyes beamed with happiness.

“My old friend it has been too long and for that I apologize, the past few years have been….busy. And I am sorry it wasn’t me that introduced you to my sons last year. How have you been? How is your son?” Master Splinter grinned up at Daimyo his hips tiling as he bowed out of respect.  

“Nonsense Splinter, there is no need for apologize our meeting a year ago was destiny I am sure of it. Ue-Sama is good, healthy and eager to learn. His skill advances everyday and looks forward to his time as Daimyo. Sometimes I think he’s a little too eager to take over. But that is here nor there. Now I’m sure you’d like to see where you’ll be staying for the tournament? I hope you don’t mind sharing a room, it is big enough to accommodate all five of you and has been set up with five beds but rooms this week are scarce in the palace as you might have guessed.” The Daimyo smiled ushering them into the large door of the large palace.

Leo stepped next to his father and spoke up, “We are grateful for your hospitality Daimyo and will take whatever is available to us. We are used to sleeping in the same room so it is no trouble.”

The Daimyo slowed and looked down on the blue leader while he led them through the great hall. His aged eyes flashed with something but quickly returned to his joyful demeanor before answering him. His large came down resting on the top of his carapace, “Leonardo I look forward to seeing you and your brothers competing in the tournament this afternoon. There have been stories of you four and your skill and bravery from last year’s battle. You four have become rather popular with the ladies.” A deep rumbling laugh escaped the ruler’s throat opening a door to what looked like their quarters for their stay.

“Yes we noticed the stares as we passed through the market. We were wondering what that was about.” Donnie said setting his duffle bag on one the farthest bed from the door.

“Yes don’t be surprised if you become very popular very fast. Now if you will excuse me I need to make final preparations for the tournament this afternoon. Please make yourself at home and don’t hesitate to ask Gyoji if you require anything. Please present yourself to the battle arena for registration at 2pm your time. You all must take part in the qualifying round before you enter the tournament. But I have no doubt each of you will succeed. I’ll see you all on the arena. Good luck turtles.” And with that the Daimyo exited their room disappearing down the hallway.    

Leo sat down on the bed he chose and set his bag down next to him. His eyes moved to his brothers as they settled in. “Does anyone want to join me in the market? I’d like to wander around for a bit before we register. I’m hoping we can run into Usagi, would be nice to see him before we go.”

All three of his brothers were happy to go but Sensei wanted to stay behind to attend to a small matter, but promised to meet them at the arena at the given time of registration.

The street loud with conversation they looked over the wears and food for sale. Every once in a while they were stopped and gushed over, random hands brushing up against their shells and fingers lingering on their arms. Most of the admirers were female but they did get a few males come up to them shaking their hands thanking them for their help last year.  

Mikey and Raph soon broke off from the other two wanting to find something warm to eat and Donnie got distracted by some old artifacts.

“I’m gonna be a bit, go ahead and keep going I’ll meet you back at our room in an hour.” Donnie waved his eldest brother on turning an ancient metal tool over in his fingers.

Further down the street Leo was buying a sharpening stone when his name rang out behind him. Turning around after completing his purchase his eyes narrowed in on a familiar female rabbit.

“Asuna.” Leo forced a smile waving to the cheery rabbit as she jogged towards him her arms outstretched for an apparent hug. Bracing himself he let the rabbit practically knock him on his shell wrapping her arms around his carapace.  

“It’s so good to see you Leonardo. It has been too long! Are you and your brothers here for the tournament?” She smiled sweetly up at him her chin placed on the top of his plastron her eyes sparkling with adoration.  

Returning the hug awkwardly he gently pushed her from his body. “It’s good to see you too Asuna. Yes my brothers and I are here to participate. Hey have you seen Usagi? I was hoping to chat with him before everything starts.”

Her fingers remaining touching his forearms and nodded quickly pulling at his arms. “Yes he’s down by the stables talking to Gen. Here I’ll take you to him. He will be very pleased to see you. He has also expressed his excitement in seeing you today.”

Being led by his arm Leo had no choice but to follow the eager rabbit doing his best at keeping the young female from brushing up against him as they weaved through busy streets. He was finding it very difficult to keep her from touching him, her hips brushing up against his, her grasp pulling a little too hard so his arm would brush across her breasts. She was incorrigible.

After a few silent moments being dragged by his arm she finally slowed giving his arm reprieve. Her white furry fingers began dancing across his pebbled skin of his bicep and he could tell she wanted to ask him something. He didn’t have to wait long.

“So is Aurora here? I figured she’d be by your side.” She asked almost in a whisper her eyes training on his looking for any emotional reaction.

Letting out deep sigh he shook his head. “I have no idea, I broke it off with her a year ago and we haven’t seen her since. And that’s all I’ll say about it so I would appreciate the topic not being brought up again.”

Her head turned no doubt keeping the happy grin to herself at the news he was no longer with Aurora. He really didn’t want to see her nor spend any time with the meddlesome rabbit. She was conniving and calculating her mind scheming, she was nice enough but he didn’t trust her. True it was still his fault his relationship with Aurora ended due to his poor judgment but she had planted the poisonous seed of doubt that grew into a snarling demon in his mind.  The sooner they got to Usagi the sooner he’d been free of little bunny foo foo.

As they rounded the corner Asuna’s body tensed and pushed him back around the corner pressing him carapace back against the brick building. Her eyes darted to him and back to the looming corner they had just been.

“What? What’s going on?” He asked feeling annoyed at the close proximity to the female rabbit.  

A smile spread across her face and she struck with a quickness he couldn’t prepare for. Her furry hands cupped his cheeks and leaned forward her lips slanting over his. Her tongue pressed into his mouth catching him off guard he couldn’t even make his mind move fast enough to push her away. Her warm body pressed firmly to his her breasts compressing against his plastron.

His mind began to process what was going on and his hands rested on her shoulders ready to push the conniving rabbit from his body when he saw why the rabbit was kissing him.

In what seemed like slow motion Aurora in all her glory rounded the corner nearly running smack dab into them. His mind still in a confused fog he was unable to react fast enough as her purple eyes focused quickly in on his.

Not quite registering what she was seeing she smiled awkwardly at the kissing duo but realization struck her like a runaway bull hitting her in the stomach. Her eyes widened in shock then pain watching helplessly as the rabbit’s mouth assaulted his. Leo noticed her body go rigid her hands clenching into fists at her side as her breath hitched in her throat. The sorrow that played over her startled features soon was replaced by anger as her purple eyes flashed for a second with their brilliant light.

It all seemed to happen slowly dragging on before his very eyes as he tried to get his body to respond with his minds commands but in all reality it all happened in a matter of a few seconds. Getting his hands to move Leo finally pushed Asuna from his body their mouths popping as their lips parted.

“Aurora.” Leo gasped for breath wiping their mingling saliva from his mouth with the back of his hand. But time began to run at normal speed again and as quick as she was there she disappeared back around the corner leaving his eyesight.

“Asuna, what the shell were you thinking?” Leo growled trying to go after the retreating Aurora but was slammed back against the wall by Asuna who pressed back into him her eye hooded with excitement no doubt pleased with her display.

“Let her go Leonardo. She’s human, your animal, you should be with an animal, you should be with me. I’ll treat you right, I’ll love you, I’ll obey you.” She cooed trying to run her fingers down his cheek but was abruptly stopped by Leonardo crushing grip. A yelp of pain pushed past her lips as her smile faded from her face.

“I can’t believe you did this, your advances are unwarranted. I told you before I was not interested in you Asuna but you still pulled this inappropriate display to blatantly hurt Aurora. Please leave me and my family alone.” Not giving her a chance to object Leo pushed Asuna with force nearly sending her into a cart behind her.

He wiped around the corner fully intent to find Aurora as she retreated but found her gone. As fast his legs would carry him he darted down the street searching the busy crowd for her. How difficult would it to be to find a human in a street filled with animals. Very, apparently, he had no luck locating her doubling back twice to make sure he didn’t miss her.

True to her nature she had vanished into the shadows like the skilled kunoichi she was. At least he knew she was there, no doubt getting ready to take part in the battle nexus championship.

@imthegreenfairy88​ @bluesakurablossom​ @alonia143​ @ravn-87​