#but also didn’t offer a correction of any kind beyond ‘i am not a sir do not call me that’

[ranger-kellyn]

Hhhhhhh I wish I could beat the “sir/ma’am” out of my vocabulary bc everyone out here on the west coast fucking hates it and all it does is land me in misgendering people but it’s like how do you beat something out of you that was beaten into you and AAAAHHH

[thran-duils]

Nowhere to Run (P.2)

Title: Nowhere to Run (Part Two) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Stony. Reader was caught unknowingly stealing from the capitol harvest and is drug to the capitol for punishment. She is offered an option to go to trial or accept work in the main government building. Upon her tour, she ends up in trouble and catches eyes of two of the Master Council that decide she needs to be broken in by their hands. Words: 6,130 Warnings (for this chapter): Non-con, servitude, forced orgasms, verbal and emotional abuse, double penetration, unprotected sex Author’s Notes: Definitely biting Mother Gothel vibes when Tony says, “No? Oh...” Also, sorry that this got so long but also not sorry.

Part One || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

The courtyard between the villas was swathed in flowers and shrubbery. Despite how scared you were to be here, you came to a stop in the pathway, looking around in awe. This kind of garden was one you dreamed of to have and lay in, soaking up the sun. Your hands came up to your sheer hood of your robe to push it back — before leaving the Capitol you had been given a robe, a symbol of your assignment. It was white and embroidered with flowers and upon seeing the garden, you spotted the flower it was based off of. You had not seen it in any other part of the Capitol yet and surmised it was specifically here and therefore, the reason for the embroidery choice. It was deep blue, weaving in vines around the pillar. You reached out, rubbing one of the petals between your fingers gently.

Tsu snapped his fingers in your face, getting your attention once more.

“We don’t have a lot of time. The Masters are in a council meeting, and they’ll be expecting you to be settled in and starting your tasks by the time they return. Now I was told you will be assigned primarily to Master Rogers and Master Stark.” He leaned in close and hissed, “And please heed my warning: obey. They are not known to be forgiving.”

He looked serious and you nodded, “Noted.”

“I hope so. They won’t be lenient about back talk. Do not repeat what you did at the capitol building.”

Tsu turned on his heel and continued on, taking a path towards one of the villas. “This is Mr. Roger’s.”

It infuriated you that they all had such large houses just to themselves. Many around the country shared the houses with multiple families and they were nowhere near the size of these.

And being inside, you were even more upset seeing how lacking homeliness there was to the place. It was all marble flooring, minimalist, and cold, really. He gave you direction about the rooms, nodding in acknowledgment when you passed a couple of other servants. They nodded quickly back before moving on to continue their tasks. Your eyes lingered on the large, canopied bed in the master bedroom. Why someone needed that big of a bed just for themselves was beyond you. But the Capitol was greedy, and it was so because of the council members living above their actual needs.

Your mouth watered as you were led to the kitchen; dinner was being prepared and it smelled delicious. The cook himself was skinny and you wondered if he was ever rewarded with the fruits of his labor. You were to attend to the morning tasks specifically and the cook showed you where the coffee was — a delicacy that apparently Master Rogers enjoyed every morning — and where he would leave the prepped food for you to cook for breakfast. On top of preparing his outfit for the day to lay out and getting his toiletries ready for after his shower.

“Am I to do the same at Master Stark’s as well?” you asked Tsu, who nodded. “How can I be expected to be in two places at once? Who is first?”

“They will work that out amongst themselves and inform you. Come now, over to Master Stark’s. Apparently one of his maids has fallen… under the weather.” You furrowed your brow at the hesitance and Tsu leaned in, “We shan’t expect to see her for probably nine months.”

You felt bile swirling.

“It happens from time to time with the Master’s maids. Why, Master Wilson had one just last month.”

“Charming. I’m so glad that’s a common occurrence that no one bats an eye,” you muttered.

Tsu wagged his finger at you, “That’s that attitude I was talking about. I’m not going to be here to remind you to keep it reined in. You’re gonna have to do it yourself.”

Master Stark’s house was across the courtyard. His house was just as unwelcoming and darker in interior design. There were many sky lights, a huge one over his sunken living room. You stepped down, looking at the plush couch and the large flat screen mounted on the wall. Again, so much space for just one person. His bedroom was facing the forest with a bed as large as Master Roger’s and you walked along the windows, staring out as Tsu led you to show you the master bath. You stared at the shower, taking in the floating shower head above and the wooden bench along the wall. That must be relaxing.

“Servants quarters are downstairs. There’s some in every villa. I’m not sure which one you’ll be in but again, they’ll let you know.”

He was leading you back through the hall, pointing out an office and a library. You stuck your head inside the library curiously, your mouth falling open at the walls of books. Back home, you had the pleasure of a collection, but it was not even a quarter of this.

“Come on, Y/N. We don’t have a lot of—” he stopped hearing noise downstairs, the front door slamming it sounded like.

“Matilda!” A man bellowed.

“Shit. He’s back already,” Tsu hissed before grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the library.

Coming along the exposed hallway, you looked past the glass railing over the living room. A woman was in front of who you assumed was Master Stark. He was sneering at her already, “You forget yourself, Matilda. I told you to have my bath ran by the time I returned. Perhaps missing dinner will be in order for you.”

“I’m sorry, master,” she said looking nervous, her head bowed.

Master Stark was dark haired and handsome. He was dressed smartly in a fitted suit, you still able to make out the tautness of his body. The movement at the stairs caught his attention. He took his sunglasses off seeing the pair of you coming down the stairs.

“Master Stark,” Tsu greeted as you approached. He gave a curt bow, and you followed his lead.

Chestnut eyes followed your movement, and you did your best to avert your own gaze. You instead looked at the other woman, seeing the red in her cheeks at being berated.

“I was just showing Y/N around yours and Master Roger’s homes to get her acquainted.”

“Right. The new wench,” Master Stark remarked. You bristled at the term ‘wench’ and shot him an annoyed look. His lips twitched seeing your expression before you averted your gaze again, knowing you had let your temper get the better of you. “Leave us. I can take it from here.”

Tsu nodded and gave another bow. “Good day, Master Stark.”

He left without looking back and you suddenly felt vulnerable without him.

“Girl, come to me,” Master Stark said, snapping his fingers at you like you were a pet. To Matilda he ordered, “What are you still doing standing there, you idiot? Get upstairs and start my bath! Do you wish to miss breakfast as well?”

“No, sir,” she said shaking her head and turning to go up the stairs you had just come down hastily.

You closed the space between the two of you, standing a foot from him, your arms clasped in front of you.

“You were told you are to prepare my clothes and breakfast later in the morning than Steve’s?”

Steve must be Master Rogers.

“Yes, sort of,” you responded in a timid voice.

“Speak up. Muttering annoys the absolute fuck out of me.”

“Yes,” you rose your voice. “But I was unsure which house to be at first. Thank you for answering that for me. What time do you want me here, Master Stark?”

He sighed, “Steve is always up at the asscrack of dawn. Usually about five.” You held back at a grimace knowing you would need to be awake well before then yourself then. “I don’t usually get up until eight. That gives you a couple hours at least at his place beforehand. And you know, before this goes any further, let me see you. Strip.”

“Excuse me?” you asked mortified.

“Did I stutter?” Tony asked dryly. “Untie your dress.”

“No.”

Tony’s eyebrows rose, “‘No’?” He looked sinister, “Oh…”

“No, I mean you didn’t stutter,” you said quickly, trying to correct your misstep.

Amusement was still evident; he did not believe your lie. “Well, get to it then. As I’m sure you heard, I have a bath running and I would like it to be hot.”

Heat creeped up your neck as you reached up and untied the fabric at the back of your neck. He circled slowly, his fingers brushing at your side. You flinched away instinctively, and his hand latched tightly.

“Did I give you permission to move?”

“No,” you whispered.

“What did I tell you about speaking up? Are you daft?”

“No,” you said louder.

“Good girl,” he said, his hand loosening.

It was one thing to have him examining you like cattle at auction but touching you on top of that was humiliating on a whole new level.

His lecherous examination continued, his fingers following his circle he walked on your skin. He traced down from the nape of your neck to the curve of your ass. His fingers fluttered down and gave a squeeze. You sucked in your cheeks, tensing, but you did not say anything like you had at the Capitol. He held, as if he was waiting. When you stayed still, he made a hum of approval before he moved on.

Fingers ghosted along your shoulder. He was so close; you could feel his breath on you. He was frightening, his presence ominous. You fought to keep your eyes forward and not meet him. You had a feeling that would result in punishment.

He stepped away from you, his hand thankfully gone.

“You’ll do,” he said dismissively.

‘You’ll do’? That was more hurtful than outright telling you that you were not up to his standards. Or was he playing mind games?

“Dress yourself. Before you head over to Steve’s, go and straighten up my library. I had young Master Parker over earlier and he has a terrible fucking habit of not putting things back. I like authors by their last name. Don’t fuck it up, do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

<><><>

You awoke at 4:30am and dragged yourself from your small cot. You took on the friendly advice given to you by the other servants to use the small glow stick like device to light your way without turning on the actual lights. There was no need to rouse Master Rogers from sleep before he awoke himself; that would piss him off.

Picking up your list that had been left by one of the head servants, you saw you were to pick out his outfit, sort his toiletries, mop the kitchen floor – where were those supplies? – prepare his coffee and breakfast, and lay out his newspaper for him. And wait for further instruction if there were to be any. The only order for his outfit was ‘casual’.

Master Rogers – Steve – was sleeping soundly still. You stared at his form for a few seconds, his muscular arms and chest that were exposed from his silk sheets. He was a large man, handsome too just like Master Stark, with a strong jaw. His blonde hair was splayed across his forehead from his tussling in the night. You were given little to no instruction for his clothing, and you went into his closet blind, holding up the small light you were holding. His room was shrouded in darkness from the curtains being pulled and you were grateful you had brought the light.

In his closet, you fetched a relaxed top and a soft cardigan with slacks. That was as casual as it was getting in his selection of clothes. You kept the hangers and brought them soundlessly out to his bathroom door, hanging them up. You went inside and began gathering the toiletries listed and separated them between the counter near the sink and his shower.

Down in the kitchen, you made first to find the mop and thankfully, it was in the pantry. It was fairly easy to mop the floor, that you were used to. But after that, you stared at the oven before clicking a button you thought was the correct one. It came to life. This was far more technological than you had dealt with, but you had to figure it out. You wished you had had more time with Tsu or the cook yesterday. It took you a moment to figure out where the skillets were, but you were able to get his bacon started and his eggs. His coffee was more difficult than you thought originally. He wanted a latte. You followed the instructions to make an espresso and then whisked the milk, pouring the espresso over it.

As if on cue, you placed the latte next to his plate on the counter as instructed next to his newspaper, and he walked in.

His eyes ran over you, and you gave him a curt bow as Tsu had done for Master Stark. “Good morning, Master Rogers.”

“We haven’t met,” he responded, coming over to his plate and grabbing his newspaper.

“Y/N, sir.”

“Hmm, right. I remember you.”

He remembered you from what?

“I’m to help you in the morning. I hope my outfit choice was appropriate.”

Steve looked down and shrugged half assedly. “It’s comfortable enough.”

Holding back your attitude, you asked, “Is there something I can do different in the future that will please you more?” His eyes flashed lasciviously, and you quickly added, “In regard to your outfit, I mean, sir. Just so I know what to choose.”

“I’m not sure I can teach a mountain girl anything about fashion on a whim. So, just watch the rest of the masters and the council members outfits. I don’t have the energy to try to explain it to you. I’m sure this long, halter gown is the fanciest thing you’ve worn and it’s merely a villa servant’s dress.”

How you wanted to knock him a good one for being so crass. It must have been evident in your expression because his eyes crinkled as he picked up a bite of his eggs, taking a bite.

“Did I strike a nerve?”

“No,” you blatantly lied. “How are your eggs, sir?”

“Fine, surprisingly. You made them quite fluffy.”

Steve’s hand moved in what seemed like a very deliberate movement, knocking his cup, and it fell to the floor. Ceramic shattered and his latte flooded around it.

You bit your cheeks to keep from screaming, staring at it. You had just cleaned the floor.

“Oops,” he said flatly, not sounding sorry at all. “Why did you place it so close to the edge?”

He was saying it like it was your fault. This pompous asshole. But you inhaled deeply.

“I’ll make you another one,” you told him calmly although you were screaming internally. He was not going to get a rise out of you that quickly and that easily. Tsu had warned you to obey and you were not going to risk being beaten or worse – time added to your sentence – over spilled coffee.

“Another one…?” He asked expectantly.

“Master Rogers,” you said stiffly.

You bent over and began picking up the shattered pieces first. Scooping them up you brought them over to the trash can and tossed them in.

Turning back around, you caught sight of him staring, his eyes focused on your hips before he met your gaze. He looked aroused and you knew he had been staring at your ass as you were bent over. Nonchalantly, he cleared his throat and looked back down at his newspaper.

You felt relief surprisingly when he said, “I’m sure Tony will be coming back from the land of the dead soon enough. You should hurry over there.”

<><><>

You cracked Tony’s door open and quietly slipped in. You saw two figures in the bed as you crept by towards his closet. You used the natural light coming in from the windows to guide yourself through the closet. He had said dark grey for his color scheme, so you did your best, matching the jacket, vest, and slacks but a white dress shirt. The socks and tie you chose were burgundy, a contrast. He had not asked for that, but you would see how that worked.

Quietly, you came back out of the closet and stilled when you saw someone slipping out of the bed. You recognized her in the light… Matilda. She stopped only for a moment, locking eyes with you before snatching her dress off the ground and bringing it up and tying it around her neck. She sneaked out of the room, more than likely going to start her chores. So, he forced someone he verbally abused to his bed.

Gently you walked over to the bathroom and hung up the clothes on the outside of the door. You moved inside and got together the materials the same you had for Steve and put the appropriate ones in the shower and by the sink.

When you emerged, Tony was stirring, and you moved quicker to get out of the room before he was fully awake.

But to no luck.

“Morning, little vixen.”

You stopped in your movement and turned back to face him, clasping your hands. “Good morning, Master Stark. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

His lips up ticked into a closed smile, “I’m sure it is time for me to be awake if I find my bed cold. Night is over and consequently the fun.” He threw the covers back and got back out of bed unabashedly of his naked form. Your eyes widened at his brazen behavior, all of him on display. You turned your head, avoiding looking at him and he chuckled. “You’ll get used to seeing this.”

Tony moved towards the door and eyed the suit choice. He shot you a look and said, “Look at that slight boldness of color. It’s subtle against the neutral but it’s nice. Good choice.”

He winked at you before going into the bathroom. You took that as permission to leave to start his breakfast.

<><><>

The whole first day you had put up with both of their antics. They were trying your patience and it was getting to you. You had never crossed two more pretentious men and they were so insulting to their staff. Steve had called you “pigheaded” for placing his newspaper on the right instead of the left of his plate this morning and you wanted to just tear it up in front of him.

You were currently in Tony’s office waiting instruction. There had been a task after breakfast to clean his office and before you started, you wanted more direction, so you did not make a mistake.

He walked in finding you still standing still, and he asked, “You know, to clean, you need to actually be moving?”

“My instructions said to dust but I was not sure what I should touch and not touch, Master Stark. I was waiting for you to give me direction so—”

He cut you off, “When it says dust, just dust. But, you know, I’m actually glad you waited so you’ll be in here longer.” He stalked over to his desk and opened one of his drawers, pulling out a box. He unwrapped it and you watched him pull out a pair of lace, barely there panties. Your heart clenched – he surely did not mean to give those to you? He placed a small device into the crotch of them and held them out to you.

“What’s that?” you asked slowly, not moving.

“I like some entertainment while I work,” Tony commented. “Put them on. They’ll be a snug fit, right up against what I’m sure is a beautiful pussy.” You stared back at him, and Tony returned a challenging look. “Are we going to have a problem?”

At loss for words, you stammered, “I… for what?”

“A problem ‘for what’? Yeah, that’s exactly what my question is. There should not be a problem when I tell you to do something directly. Come over here and fetch them and put them on,” Tony ordered you impatiently. “Before I lose my temper.”

As if you were moving against your own will, your legs moved forward, and you came to the desk. You reached up underneath your gown, his eyes raking over your exposed bare legs. Yanking down your underwear, you tossed them to the side by the desk and took the underwear from him. Hunger was swimming in his eyes, and you swallowed sharply. He was right; they were snug, the protruding part right up against your bud.

He clicked a button on the small remote and the underwear turned on. You grimaced your teeth as you felt the vibration, if only for a few moments.

Tony looked elated at the expression on your face. “Sweetheart, if you can dust everything here without coming, I’ll be so proud.” He leaned forward and winked, “But I’m going to make you work for it. Our work meetings are so boring, and I enjoy watching you women fighting against an orgasm.”

You hated this. You were to clean his office and he was going to be brushing your cunt with his toy.

He picked up the glass by his desk and opened the mini fridge, pulling out the ice cubes. He clunked some into his glass and poured some water over the top of it. Settling back into his chair he eyed you, waiting.

Swallowing your pride, you turned from him and began at the far end at the stacked bookcases. You shuddered as the panties worked at your clit, longer this time. He did not hit the button at regular intervals, so it caught you off guard every time. You would be holding a porcelain figurine and clench it, hoping to God you would not drop it. You were bound to break something the closer you got to coming undone. He was continuing on with his virtual meeting as if nothing untoward was happening to you. You bent to grab a book that had fallen off the shelf and he hit it again. You snapped back up and exhaled sharply, clenched as it vibrated relentlessly against you. You gave the book a quick brush over before placing it back on the shelf. You took a step and he hit it again.

Having had enough, you turned around and hissed, “You’re distracting me. How am I to work, Master Stark?”

He muted his microphone on his computer and blocked his camera before turning in his chair towards you. You saw the bulge in his pants and that only served to make you more upset with the situation. How much he was getting off on this was unbearable.

“That’s kind of the point of this. But, really, you’re distracting me, little vixen. With your hips and those soft sighs leaving your mouth every time I press the toy. It’s very beguiling,” Tony argued, relaxing back in his chair. You heard the ice clinking in his drink as he brought it to his lips. “And I’ll distract you however much I want to. Don’t you forget that. Get back to work. Now.”

He clicked his microphone and camera back on, resuming his meeting. His fingers were tapping the remote that was lying on the desk, teasingly. Pissed, you turned back.

It buzzed again only moments later, and you clenched, squeezing your thighs together as you brushed the bookcase.

“Ah ah. Naughty girl. Let me in,” Tony intoned, and you loosened. He took the opportunity and hit you again with stimulation.

You let out a frustrated noise and threw the duster onto the ground.

“Fuck this!” you exclaimed.

Tony hit the hide and mute on his computer quickly at your outburst, caught off guard. You got a small satisfaction out of that in the heat of the moment that you had thrown him off his game.

He turned towards you again, looking furious. That did nothing to throw water on your temper. You hastily tore the underwear off and threw them in his general direction. Tony’s eyes followed the descent of them to land at his black oxfords. “Send me back! I’ll take on an extra month — six even if I can just be back in the capitol building! This is torture!”

Tony drug his gaze from the panties back to you. His elbow was still resting on the arm of the chair.

Chest heaving, you watched him and slowly felt the dread creeping in. His eyes were hard, and you remembered who exactly you were dealing with. He had all the power in this relationship, and you had just lost your temper with him, outright disobeying something you had been ordered to do. And you may have embarrassed him in front of other Capitol council members in your outburst.

Tony stood from the chair and stalked over to you, peering down his nose at you. His voice was dangerously low when he said, “Go up to my bedroom and wait there for Steve and I. On the bed. Naked.”

Naked? You gulped.

Even you knew better than to argue with him with that scathing glare. You slunk away and you felt his glare burning into the back of your head as you closed the office door behind you.

<><><>

Curled in on yourself, you waited. It seemed to drag on forever, the waiting. You just wanted them to come up and belt you and get it over with.

When the door opened, you dared to raise your gaze, finding the both of them coming in. Their jackets, vests, and ties were gone. The top buttons of their dress shirts were undone, apparently have relaxed before this. Tony must have called Steve to his office and relayed to him what had transpired between the two of you.

You were doing your best to try to keep your breasts hidden, your legs crossed to hide yourself as well.

Tony came to a stop in front of you and he held out two fingers, pulling your chin up to force you to look at him directly. His stare was cold.

“You really pissed me off earlier,” he informed you point blank.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“I’m sure you are now. At the time, I know you meant every little ounce of venom you spat at me. And that I won’t abide. And neither will Steve. What goes on in one villa, goes on in the other. You will be well behaved in both.” When you did not say anything, his hand came to clench your jaw and you winced as he forced your mouth open as he mocked in a higher pitched voice, “’Yes, master. I understand’.”

“Yes, master, I understand,” you repeated, wincing against his tight grip.

“And we’ll make sure that sticks. We are in charge here,” Tony told you, letting go of your face and going to work on the rest of his buttons.

You had hardly noticed Steve had undressed himself to his briefs. You had been so focused on Tony’s imperious presence before you.

Steve was holding the panties you had thrown at Tony earlier. You felt sick as he told you, “Let me put these on you and don’t make it difficult.”

No. They were not going to beat you like you feared. They were going to do worse. Matilda came to mind being in Tony’s bed when you knew that was the last place she would have wanted to be and your eyes shot to the door before landing back on Steve who was coming close now.

Freeing himself from his boxers, Steve’s hand ran up and down his length. You cowered back, crawling back on the bed, tucking your feet to come onto your knees. You did not want to be in here. He smirked seeing your fight or flight kick in.

“Sweetpea, you know that’s not an option. Come back.” You tensed, shooting another quick look at the door. Steve’s expression melted from amusement to annoyance. “Now.”

You unfolded slowly, coming back to the end of the bed, your heart hammering. You had had sex before, but it had only been with the boy next door, the one you had thought once that you would marry before you had been brought here. Not like this. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you sat still as you could to let him slide them up and you allowed him to pull them all the way up. You spotted Tony still had the remote, a wicked grin on his face.

Steve was jutting out towards you, and you stared down at his length.

“Your hand,” Steve told you. “Wet it with your mouth.” You shakily did as he asked and he ordered, “More spit.” You did that as well. “Touch me.”

You felt humiliated but you did what he asked. He was thick and your hand slid up and down his length, wetting him with your spit. He moaned softly, his hips moving ever so slightly as you continued to stroke him off. The underwear vibrated and unlike before, they were not turning off. Tony was not giving you any reprieve. You tried to adjust so the movement was not directly on your bud but no matter what you tried, it was right there, and some angles made it worse, causing you to shiver at the direct contact. You caught Tony’s eyes and he was watching with heightened arousal, his erection evident in his slacks.

Steve was leaking precum in no time and you were short of breath with the stimulation on your cunt. You had shot a look at Tony finding him naked now, working himself up at the scene before him. You were getting the panties so wet and you wondered if that was going to affect the toy.

It reached a moment when Steve had had enough of just your hand. He stopped your movement and tossed your hand aside. You leaned back as he towered, his hands snatching at the sides of the panties and yanking them down your legs roughly, tossing them aside. You barely had time to react before he was picking you up in a fluid motion. You yelped at the airborne movement as he dragged you onto the bed with him. Steve laid down and pulled you in top of him, your hands planted by his head. His cock slid in with ease to your wet pussy, his lips sucking at your breasts.

The bed dipped with Tony’s added weight, and you heard him adjusting in between Steve’s legs, his hard cock brushing up against your tight ring. You realized fully what he was aiming for when his thumb met your ass and it was cold, covered in lube. You felt him squeeze some into you.

Having their way with you in your pussy was one thing but this was something else entirely, especially since Steve was already inside you. You had never had anal sex, let alone two men in you at once. This was their punishment.

Desperately, you begged, “Please don’t!”

Steve’s laugh was cruel. “‘Please don’t?’ Me? I’m not doing anything, darling. I’m just sitting here. Fully...seated... inside your tight cunt just enjoying it.”

You tried to look over your shoulder at Tony, “Master—"

But Steve grabbed your face and forced you to look back at him. “Relax…. Relax….” he breathed encouragingly. “You don’t want it to really hurt do you?”

There was no time for you to answer him as Tony started pressing in. It burned and you cried out. Steve was whispering in your ear to encourage you to relax, telling you to be a good girl. You choked on a cry, tears stinging as Tony continued to sink into your ass. You were so full.

“Aw, she’s crying, Tony.”

Tony sloppily kissed your temple, his hand tight on your throat. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. You’re doing so well! Taking it like the little whore we knew you are. Take your punishment… you’ll be loving it in no time.”

He pulled out slowly before pushing back in, keeping a slow steady pace. You breathed, trying to focus on the way it was subsiding to pleasure. You sniffled, hanging your head as he continued using you, Steve still waiting inside. You were sure their cocks were brushing each other in that thin membrane.

“Well-behaved now too. Just gotta fill her with cock to train her. Make her needy,” Steve rasped. “Tell us how much you like it, you little slut.”

It was an order. And you were just a rag doll between them right now; what other choice did you have but to comply?

You could not lie to yourself either, you were being stimulated to a whole new level.

“I love it,” you breathed shakily, a sharp whine escaping as you felt them both rocking in and out. They had a rhythm going, like they had done this before.

Steve continued with his dirty talk, “You want it? You wanna be fucked?”

“Yes, I want it. I wanna be fucked.”

Tony groaned at your declaration, slapping across your ass as you rocked between them. The reverberation sent a tremor through you, further stimulating you.

Steve bit roughly at your nipple and you yelped. His breath was hot as he growled, “You wanna be used like a perfect doll. Right? You wanna behave? Because if you don’t we won’t finish.”

Every nerve was on fire, and you were losing yourself to the feeling. No, they had to finish.

You nodded fervently, “I wanna behave. I wanna behave.”

“You know how lucky you are to be filled? What women would beg to be in your spot? You should be thanking us!”

“Thank you for filling me up,” you cried as Steve buried himself roughly. The shame of your pleading and groveling was overshadowed by every brush of their cocks inside you, pushing you towards the edge to come tumbling down.

They were working you like the doll Steve promised you were going to be. Your breath was short, and you were beginning to shake on your arms.

You heard Tony groan, “There you go, there you go. Fuck!”

“I got her Tony,” Steve grunted, holding you tight as broken cries left you. “I’ll hold you, sweetheart.” You trusted him in your delirious state and collapsed against him as your body gave way. You shouted, stuffing a fist into your mouth. Steve yanked your hand away and you cried out. “Let us hear what we’ve done to you, you naughty girl.”

Steve held you in place as Tony sped up, thrusting quick. You continued moaning with the heat tearing through you.

“You’re gonna take every fucking drop,” Tony husked. “Perfect little cumslut!”

He groaned animalistically, his cum emptying into your ass. You sighed relieved and buried your face into Steve’s collarbone. Tony slid out and you whined pathetically feeling him spill out onto your thighs.

“Almost done, doll. You’re taking your punishment perfectly, shaping up so well,” Steve kissed along the side of your face. “Tony, you did nothing to help me stalling myself with those hard thrusts of yours. Felt every rib of your dick, you bastard.” You heard Tony chuckling as Steve resumed his own thrusts. You whined, so sensitive but he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, and he was finishing soon, spilling his seed into your aching pussy. He gave a few more lazy thrusts before he picked you up and rolled over to drop you onto the bed.

You laid there exhausted, bare in the center of the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath.

Steve was pleased. “I love that gaped, cum filled look. Especially on her.”

They sounded a million miles away, you still drowning in what had just happened.

Tony came into your sights, and you turned your head towards him, exhaustion in your bones. “Gather yourself and then come join me in the shower. I’ll give you that before you come back out here and strip my bed to clean the sheets. Can’t keep you off your duties for too long, can we? I won’t be giving you special treatment no matter how well that perfect ass of yours just milked me.”

He turned before stopping and then he added, “By the way, I will not be sending you back to the Capitol building. If we have our say, you won’t be going home any time soon.”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney @biiskuitx

[tenmillionwhumperflies]

Cloudwalker Series: Mouse the Dragon

Alright, so here is Mouse’s little origin story... thing, because Mouse is precious and deserves all the loves. Oh, and you can meet Azeera, another sorcerer boi.

Drawing of Mouse Here

Warnings for mentions of death, grief, mentions of slavery, ‘animal’ cruelty (contained in a very small space).

Word Count: 1700

Tag List: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

Orrien hated busy places, he hated the noise, the stall owners drawing attention to their produce, the chatter of so many people, the chopping, the grinding, the sound of animals. He hated the mix of smells that didn’t go together at all, fish and cinnamon, fruit and dung.

He hated the heat, the buzz, the way he had to bustle past so many people that just didn’t even notice he was there. He kept his cloak pulled up high, hoping to keep his tattoos hidden. No one could know he was a sorcerer. It was dangerous. They’d assume the worst, that he’d escaped or was going to start an attack on behalf of a kingdom. Sorcerers were not simply free, certainly not in his land anyway.

He kept his head down, buying what he needed to get by until he could travel to the next kingdom. Always searching, desperately looking for a new purpose now that he had lost his only son, and the man who had loved his son had turned to darkness and death. Orrien needed time before he went back to the Red Hills, back to the land he’d been born and raised on.

“Mama, look over there!” a child cried. Orrien turned quickly, thinking perhaps they were looking at him. He heaved out a breath of relief, seeing she was pointing at a small market stall. The mother ushered the child away from whatever it is they had seen. Orrien couldn’t help but approach the emptier area of the city. Something drew him towards it and didn't fight the urge to follow. He saw the owner of the stall was a cloaked man. Orrien couldn’t see his face, but he knew enough about him already. He had light magic, Orrien could feel it, but that didn't necessarily make him a friend. 

Orrien pondered speaking to him, to find out who he was, but he was distracted by a strange tink noise. He turned his head to see a very small jar on the table, and at first Orrien thought it was a small lizard. He stepped closer, seeing that its grey skin was actually metal. He picked up the jar with care. The cloaked figure grunted, but that was all.

Orrien inspected the jar with more care, seeing that the small dragon inside looked incredibly scared. They were so small, only the size of his middle finger. They clawed at the metal with one foot, but the jar was so small they could barely move. They stared at Orrien with wide eyes. He felt so drawn to them. He couldn’t leave them trapped like this. It was cruel. It could kill them. Besides, a small companion like this would likely do him some good. He turned the little paper tag attached to the jar. Enchanted dragon, 100 pieces.

"A trinket has caught your eye, sir?" The man asked. Orrien recognised the voice somewhat, but he couldn't put a name to it. "Some 'trinket' for one hundred… You can’t put a price on a life, enchanted or otherwise. You know no one will ever buy such a small charm for so much. Distress them for too long and they will lose their magic. Why push for so much money?” “The enchantment on this dragon is... immense. They were made with incredible power- from love and care. They are practically alive with their own personality... My greatest work. They deserve a loving home, but are you worthy?"

"Money and power does not equate to kindness," he hissed. My greatest work. Orrien hoped he’d put the voice to the right face, and the fact that the dragon was enchanted. Reluctantly, he eased his hood back a fraction to show his face, his tattoos. "You of all people should know that. You say they deserve a loving home, but you treat them so harshly," he grunted before putting his hood back. "Trapping them like this. You should be ashamed… Azeera." The man carefully moved his hood away, showing bright green tattoos on either cheek, a sharp contrast on his dark skin. Orrien had been right after all, and his relief must have showed. He belonged to the Sorcerer's Circle, one of the eight. His enchantment magic was impressive.

 “Correct, though it seemed to take you a while, Orrien of the Red Hills, high sorcerer of the Kingdom of Everblade." He remarked. “Former,” Orrien corrected glumly. There was no kingdom left to serve, not that he’d ever enjoyed serving that wretched man. “Indeed. Word spreads fast. But here you are, in front of me, as I’d waited and hoped. Fate always finds a way, doesn’t it? In truth, I thought you were dead."

“Why would you think that?” Orrien frowned. “Well, the last I heard of Everblade, it was being called Everblood and had fallen. I wasn’t sure if your apprentice had turned on you also.” Orrien sighed. “That castle was so low it could not have fallen any further… Avizon has chosen a darker path, but he would never turn on me.” “Then… tell me, where is your son? Are the rumours true...” his voice faded off. Orrien looked away and kept his eyes on the dragon that was now headbutting the glass with a repetitive tinking noise. “He is… he’s gone. Avizon told me the king killed him while he rested from wounds gained by protecting the castle. That is why Avizon rebelled and attacked. I was a coward and left him. I wasn't going to stop him after what Halve had done, but nor could I stand by him…"

Azeera sighed and bowed his head. “That is indeed a terrible thing to hear, but this was Avizon’s path to walk, his destiny. Fate always finds a way, even if you had stayed behind. I don’t know how Ignium will feel about the whole affair, but I shan't be the one to tell him.” “Perhaps, but what does my son have to do with buying a dragon?” Orrien asked. "And if I may ask, why are you here? Are you not still serving Queen Daphne?”

Azeera shook his head. “Not all of us were kept on as short a chain as you, you know? I was allowed to leave the grounds, but alas, no. After… Everblade, the queen decided against magic defences, despite my years of unwavering loyalty. Royals are realising we are powerful, dangerous, and most importantly, unhappy. Her focus is on the army, on a group that won’t risk so much if one loses control. She did not care for the reasons why young Avizon turned on the castle. She reflected and I believe she feared his actions would influence me. She released me peacefully, no quarrels, and gave me a home to try to keep me from turning bitter. I consider it early retirement, and really you can’t consider freedom to be a punishment. So here I am, selling trinkets to pass the time."

"I see. For what it is worth, I am sorry for Avizon’s actions. I should have been able to do more to stop this.”

Azeera shrugged. “It is a difficult situation, but when I saw Avizon after you saved him… I didn’t expect him to turn to violence, but I cannot say I’m shocked. What Halve did to him was beyond human.” Orrien shuddered, he needed a change of topic. “So what is this fate you speak of?"

"Ah, yes, that. Orrien, I don't think he told you, that it was a surprise but your son saved my life only days before the attack. I offered him a favour in return.” Orrien looked back down at the dragon and stared. Was he leading to what he thought?

Orrien continued to stare. When he stared in the dragon's eyes, he could see their pleading. They dug at the glass desperately, but it was so cramped it barely equated to anything. It bit at his own tail, but it didn’t seem to damage itself at least. Did he imagine it, or was there a familiarity? All he knew was that he couldn’t leave them. His heart told him that he needed this little one. He gritted his teeth. Orrien pulled the cork out of the jar, ignoring Azeera’s grunt of a protest. The little dragon scrambled out and hid in Orrien’s palm. He opened his hand just enough to stroke their head. They seemed so much more relaxed now they had access to magic, that they could move.

“The only way to contain them was to take away their mobility. They’re quite the trouble maker and an escape artist. They had started with a very comfortable abode,” Azeera explained with a soft grumble. Orrien put his hand up to his shoulder, letting the dragon climb onto him. They hid behind Orrien’s ear, chewing nervously on it. Orrien couldn't help but brace to have to argue or fight, to have to run away and get to the horse, out of habit more than anything.

“You're tired and on edge, old friend. I can recommend you an inn or offer space in my home to rest? That little dragon is meant to be yours. They were the favour Ro asked of me. They were to be a gift… for you. He poured his heart and soul into helping me make it… After seeing what happened to the castle I left before I could give it to him. I assumed they would be forgotten about, that you were dead, and so I put them up for sale for a good home. Fate had other plans. Your son’s love drew you here.”

Orrien bit back tears. He had not expected anything like this. For Ro to have left him something so... pure. The dragon began to slide down the front of Orrien’s cloak, so he put his hand out as a platform. “My debt is paid, the offer of rest is still there? The inn is the Crooked Key. It is welcoming of our kind and my home is just around the corner."

Orrien nodded. "Thank you, for everything you have done for me."

Orrien bowed his head and left, cradling the little dragon in his hand. “You’re so quiet… so small, like a little mouse.” He stopped and smiled. “Yes, that will be your name. I think it would have annoyed Ro just as he’d have wanted,” he smiled softly. He scratched their back, enjoying  watching the dragon weave through his fingers and arch their back like a cat might.

“To get a favour from a sorcerer as powerful as Azeera and ask only for a trinket for your father… Oh, Ro, my poor boy… This world was not made for one as pure as you.” He forced himself to take deep breaths, to calm before he let the dragon back onto his shoulder and disappeared into the choking crowds.

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 68 – The Secret of Resurrection and the Outing

“Greetings to you, O Lord of the nobles. Pardon me, for I cannot rise from my respite.” 

“Have no concern. We are all aware of the state your body is suffering.” 

Lascrea raised her hand in a salute-reply to Lunark. 

When Rael learned from Seira that the werewolf who was as immobile as a corpse finally opened her eyes, he scurried back to the Lord's Hall, which he had emptied for less than 10 minutes, to share the news with Lascrea. 

Lunark also requested to the Central Knights stationed at the ward that she must speak to their lord, and their meeting was scheduled shortly afterwards. 

And they were not the only participants for today's meeting.

“I pray for your patience, although this room is not big enough to allow all of us. Our speaker must not leave her bed.”

“Have no concerns, my lord.” 

“We are alright.” 

Kei and Rosaria were standing next to Lascrea, rendering Lunark's room rather crowded. 

Her room may be the best that Lukedonia can offer, but it was designed for a single occupant. 

And the room felt even smaller because they also had virtual guests for this meeting. 

<May we begin?> 

Lunark flinched at Frankenstein's voice, transferred through Lascrea's phone that was switched to the speaker mode. 

No one would have missed it, yet no one pointed it out, for none of them paid attention to anything other than what Lunark was about to unleash.

“I believe all of you would know by now with what power I defeated the Dark Spear.” 

“We all happened to be shocked and perplexed. How did a werewolf like you got to wield power that was most certainly begotten by Raizel?” 

Everyone solemnly focused their sights and hearings upon Lunark.

Even she was still trying to wrap her head around what happened.

Upon accepting the mysterious power that offered its hand to her as she sunk deep into the sea, her abdomen punctured by the Dark Spear, Lunark realized the oh-so-familiar-for-some-reason power was none other than Raizel's power. 

As of now the power was rinsed off her like snow met with summer sun, but her psyche had been etched with memories that had connected to her during her carriage of the power. 

“This would be a long story, for I must start off from the Noblesse's disappearance into slumber 820 years ago.” 

The nobles surrounding Lunark implied fluster with their eyes. 

They knew discussion on Raizel is a must, considering that he is the source of the power Lunark made use of. 

However, they did not expect her to wind back at least six books on noble history, to land right onto Raizel's slumber that took place 820 years ago. 

“Noblesse, sir, you fell into sleep immediately following your duel against my lord, didn't you?” 

<...I did. I chose dormancy as I was stranded upon the oceanic spot not far from Lukedonia, and the zone of water and salt directly beneath became my sanctuary.> 

“Actually, I fell into the sea nearby after I was fallen as the result of my first showdown against the Dark Spear. Geologically speaking, it was near a human city called Miami, stationed in United States.” 

<Miami...? It happens to be one of the three vertices composing the Bermuda Triangle, at the center of which Lukedonia lies.> 

Lunark coerced her voice to activate, painstakingly shifting her attention away from the now-automated wince in her heart in reaction to Frankenstein's voice. 

“As you were recovering in the ocean for 820 years, your power was leaking from your coffin little by little. And after 8 centuries, the underwater domain centering on your ex-sanctuary came to absorb your power.” 

“What? You mean... Currently there is a submarine area not far from Lukedonia that holds power from Raizel?” 

“Correct. And that happens to be one of the three reasons why you, the Noblesse, and two of your heads of clans could return from death. During the nuclear missile incident, the three of you stood in defense of your homeland right above the Noblesse's ex-sanctuary. Which also served as the vessel of your remains from the clash. There the three of you absorbed the power of Noblesse teeming within, to rise back to life. Speaking of which, don't you feel there has been an increase of your power?” 

Silence heavily dawned upon the chamber as Lunark spoke; the three nobles knew she was absolutely right, their awareness of the phenomenon prevalent within them, unbeknownst to them. 

Once they defeated death, in contrast to their resolve, they could feel their powers have become somewhat more durable, more invulnerable. 

Which was forgotten momentarily due to series of huge events that promptly tagged along the nuclear missile incident, such as the downfall of Union and the QuadraNet Project. 

Hence the question regarding the resurrection of the three of the five affiliates of the nuclear missile incident was gone, but their curiosity was yet vivid. 

No, it has gotten vivider. 

“I beg your pardon, but I need more details regarding what you mentioned earlier. Now I understand how my lord, I, and Kei could return to life, but... Are you saying the return of Noblesse is also related to the place where we met our temporary eternal sleep?” 

No one emitted a breath at Rosaria's question-slash-accusation, for she touched on the spot that had been itching ever since Lunark held in her lips the “three factors” that had brought Raizel, Lascrea, Kei, and Rosaria back to the world of the living. 

All ears grew keen on Lunark's mouth, waiting for her words to water their thirst for knowledge. 

“Yes, but it wouldn't have been possible without the other two factors, one of which happens to be the half of Ragnarok that you yielded to the Noblesse.” 

Lascrea's, Kei's, and Rosaria's mouths turned agape, for they did not expect to hear the name of the noble lord's soul weapon from a werewolf.

No sound could be heard past Lascrea's phone, an evidence that Raizel and Frankenstein would look no different from them. 

“You permanently forfeited the half of your soul weapon to the Noblesse, did you not?” 

“...I did. It was left behind for Raizel by my father the lord, which Raizel gave back to me upon his return to Lukedonia after 820 years. Nevertheless, I handed it to him in order to replenish his life force.” 

“The power that used to compose the half of the Ragnarok would have by now changed into Noblesse's life energy, fully absorbed into his body. But it's not completely gone. Its remains must be there. Even though it is only half of its original form, Ragnarok stemmed from the bloodline of the noblest nobles in the lead of your kind, therefore forged with might beyond any mortal understanding. I'm sure you, O Noblesse, would have felt the weapon flowing within you ever since you received it.” 

Raizel spoke no confirmation, which in turn served as a confirmation.

It was his habit of speech; whereas he does not necessarily confirm what is right, he will deny anything that deserves his denial. 

<...Okay, so what's the final factor?> 

“...The fact that the four of them met eternal sleep, albeit only briefly, on the same day, at the same hour.” 

That was when Kei and Rosaria exchanged glances, their eyes flickering precariously, and Lascrea failed to conceal confusion marred with inquisitiveness from her face. 

“The key is that you, O lord, and the Noblesse fell into eternal sleep at the exact same moment. As your remains dropped into the Noblesse's ex-sanctuary, the power of the Noblesse embedded in the area created a reaction with the remains of the Ragnarok, its power not far behind the former. And this reaction reached out to its twin - yes, it reached out to the Noblesse, now a biological container of the half of the Ragnarok.” 

The three nobles listening to her gaped at her, looking as if they were hammered in their heads. 

“The point is that the bond between the two parts of Ragnarok still exists as we speak, even though a half of it now pulses through Noblesse's blood and soul. As the two Ragnarok's caused a chain reaction of resonation with the Noblesse's power under the sea, there formed a temporary spiritual bond between you and the Noblesse.”

<...So are you saying the resurrection allowed by the power from my master's ex-sanctuary managed to apply to my master as well?>

“...Precisely.” 

As Lunark's speech was closed, no one did not as much as mumble, too starstruck by the elements that felt so much like part of destiny, in joint with coincidence like fate. 

At then Lascrea's eyes gleamed in remembrance. 

“That reminds me of the tale I picked up from the human reporters who used to be short-term tenants of Lukedonia. There is this marine zone near Lukedonia dubbed as 'Bermudan Treasure Chest' among humans, flaunting innumerable number of rare marine species, its individuals much bigger than those from the identical classification inhabiting other areas. However, recently there have been mysterious shifts in the ecological system of this zone, such as mass deaths of marine species, including the blood-red corals exclusive to this zone.” 

“True. This place you speak of happens to be a favorite dining spot of mine, where I would often drop by to feast on the fish.” 

“...Now I am reminded of how it all began upon our homecoming.” 

<...I see. That zone must have flourished thanks to the power from my master's ex-sanctuary, which is not surprising. It has been bearing the greatest force of life on Earth for more than 8 centuries. But now its power is lost to you, two of your heads of clans, and my master, thanks to this spiritual bond thing, resulting in the end of the golden age for its marine population.>

“...Don't forget that I received unimaginable amount of power from that spot as well. So things can only take the worse turn for the natives of that zone.” 

Kei started to speak as soon as Lunark finished her mutter. 

“Quick question - how do you know all this? And how come none of us remember this?” 

“...The ex-sanctuary of the Noblesse absorbed along with his power the psyche he had harbored. I'd say the power that is held there is basically semi-animate. So after the nuclear missile incident, the entire process of spiritual bond and resurrection that touched on your lord and the Noblesse was engraved into the power within the ex-sanctuary. I managed to absorb all this when I accepted this power. But the reason why none of you remember this is because... I'd compare it to the rupture of glasses that could not stand the multiple resonance of sound waves. What you had gone through was a miracle that transcends life and death. So it'd be no wonder that it left an unseeable scar upon your memories.”

Kei was not the last one to fling questions, and Lunark answered all of them. 

The meeting was closed following Frankenstein's offer that Raizel might be able to gain more life if they are to make use of the power that is left in Raizel's ex-sanctuary (and they sort of saw it coming).

Lunark was left alone, and only then someone approached her. 

“Lady Lunark.” 

“You...? What are you doing here? Your lord and your fellow heads of clans are gone.” 

Lunark's pink pupils were sketched with puzzlement as she recognized Rael. 

“There's something I must tell you.” 

The werewolf warrior tensed, in understanding that Rael chose to confront her after Lascrea, Kei, and Rosaria at last went away. 

On the other hand, Rael was fairly calm, for there was no trouble that required his presence. 

It was but a small reason that he requested the Central Knights from the ward to notify him as soon as she awakens, even though they share nothing in common except for the QuadraNet Project. 

It was but a small but legitimate reason. 

When Lunark awakens, relay her a gratitude from me, I pray. 

That was the concise yet packed-with-meanings request from Raizel, as he sent Rael away to Lukedonia. 

That was supposed to be the sole reason why Rael was waiting for the moment Lunark opens her eyes, but lately things have changed a little. 

During the course of arrest of Deneb, the Central Knights confiscated the walkie-talkie he forced away from Yuhyung's bag. 

Which was passed on to Rael, before it can return to its rightful owner.

The QuadraNet Project may be on a hold, but everyone knew it would be on a hold only for the time being. 

When the project is to commence again, the chances are high for Rael to reassume the ambassador of Lukedonia. 

So it would be logical for Rael to keep the walkie-talkie for now, though no one can certify until when he must keep it with him. 

So Rael had no idea the walkie-talkie dropped right onto his hand would spill Frankenstein's voice all of a sudden. 

I decided to bet my hopes on Mr. Jang's walkie-talkie just in case. Boy, am I glad it didn't turn out to be a fool's hope. 

S-sir...? What's going on...? 

I need a favor. And don't fret. It's nothing huge. 

Back then Rael was busy trying to think of a favor that Frankenstein could possibly ask from him. 

He knew Frankenstein was a man of reasons, but he could not help getting anxious, in consideration of the speaker.

When Lunark wakes up, tell her to go back to her homeland as soon as she becomes mobile. 

Sir...? What do you... 

Tell her not to even think about sticking around Lukedonia and go back as soon as her body becomes good enough for her to move around like usual. 

Frankenstein did not assume any coldness in his words, but Rael could not ask what is the matter, due to the just-deal-with-it attitude he wore at the time. 

Nonetheless, Rael presumed there was no misfortune or problem that Frankenstein had in mind that had urged him to make such delivery to Lunark. 

But please tell her that she doesn't have to run back home right as she opens her eyes. Please. 

He could feel generosity, not at all feigned or halfhearted for the sake of the least of the courtesy he could pull off, as Frankenstein added one more “please.” 

Retracing his experience, Rael finally started off with his job as a messenger. 

*****

Few days later, KSA 

“And that's it for the whereabouts of the remaining lots of the Union.”

A series of nods and regards from the table headed to Tao, who had been making his laser pointer busy with the satellite images from the beam projector. 

Seoul at last regained its daily life, thanks to KSA and RK's joint administration. 

All boxes on the to-do list of treatments and examinations were checked off, and the protocol on media management and operation in case of national crisis met its closure. 

And today, the key personnel of KSA, the RK, 3rd Elder, and Yuigi were gathered at the meeting room for the briefing on the progress up-to-date. 

First of all, Yuhyung was officially discharged, permanently expelled from the registered catalog of KSA employees and staff, imperatively relieved from all his duties and privileges. 

At the same time he was charged, with the recent case in Seoul, as a result of the internal investigation on the matter.

His true crime will never be printed on the public document housing the details of his charges, but he will be legally punished in one form or another, via the man's request. 

I don't care what or how. I want the heaviest penalty you can throw upon me. 

They have yet to decide on the exact what or how, but Yuhyung's career and life are now as good as over. 

And the Union agent who was captured at the end of the calamity at Seoul was eliminated the day before. 

Before which came the interrogation on the location of and the melee force possessed by the remainder of the Union, which provided a basis for Tao to plot a satellite map. 

“The international summits over the globe are not yet very cooperative, which means we are the only manforce we can hire for this job. So my opinion is that in terms of efficiency, it'd be much better for us to select and dispatch people for extermination and shutdown, rather than to have us travel back and forth for the job.” 

“So you're saying the said people must live as wanderers until the Union is completely gone, keeping in touch with us for the sake of communication and progress report.” 

“Which is why we need someone equipped with the energy and combat abilities that will allow them to cope with years-long travel and non-stop combats, as well as flexibility in improvisation against the unexpected. And thorough knowledge in the a's-to-z's of the Union would be a plus.” 

The second Tao, Yeonsu, and M-21 finished their speech, a hand was raised in the air. 

“I'll do it.” 

The hand belonged to none other than the 3rd Elder, gaining a dozen spotlights from the spectators' wide-open eyes. 

“I'll join him.” 

And Yuigi was the second to raise a hand. 

“W-what do you mean by that?” 

Takio - obviously - posed a question in alarm.

“I'm the perfect candidate for the requirements you just listed, M-21. And unlike you and your team, with duties to protect this place, I have no requisites that will bind me from travels.” 

“Same could be said of me. Since the 3rd Elder has lost his power, he would need a bodyguard to carry on with his mission against the modified humans potentially as powerful as Helga.” 

Their logics were without a flaw; in fact, they made an appeal that was only essential. 

The results for 3rd Elder's check-up revealed that his power did not altogether vanish; however, now he has become weak, no longer capable of firing an impact on par with that from a tank upon a single glance. 

Not to mention they learned through Helga that Union was still armed with combatants including her teammate named Sol. 

A proof that it will take a miracle, not hope, for them to bypass any physical collision during their mission. 

A proof that the 3rd Elder and Yuigi are basically candidates sent from above for the job. 

And they knew they would not need to be apprehensive for another betrayal, as the two ex-agents were the ones who supplied the key solutions for the catastrophe at Seoul, thereby earning themselves virtual badges that will certify their allegiance. 

The briefing took itself through the introduction, body, and conclusion without a haste, until the 3rd Elder and Yuigi were classified into a special team to search and destroy the hidden survivors of Union around the world. 

Partially because Frankenstein curiously hurried with the briefing.

“Now, I shall take my leave. You guys stay here and... Do whatever you need to.” 

“What? Where are you off to, boss?” 

“Outside.” 

“Outside? You mean outside Korea?” 

“Yup. But don't worry. I'll make sure I'll be there to say good-bye to the special team as they leave.” 

The three men of the RK could only tilt their heads in confusion, staring as Frankenstein hustled away without even telling them where exactly he was headed to. 

“But is it just me, or... Is he kind of excited?” 

“Thought I was the only one.”

“Well, you weren't.” 

The three men felt their curiosity stacking up by the end of their chat. 

Just what could urge the blonde human to leave in urgency, with a face in full bloom with such roseate excitement so very pronounced? 

(next chapter)

There you have it - the secret behind the four nobles’ return from death. As a reminder, in this fic Muzaka was not dead during the nuclear missile incident, which was mentioned in chapters 1 and 2. It took more than 60 chapters for me to finally unleash the secret for the remaining four. XD

This is part of the reason why I wanted to write this fic. I wanted to talk about Frankenstein and Lunark’s relationship, which was never officiated or portrayed in further depth in the original webtoon, and also attempt my take on the why’s and how’s on the nobles’ resurrection. As I was coming up with theories, I was reminded of the half of the Ragnarok that Lascrea gave to Raizel, and then I remembered how Lascrea, Kei, and Rosaria stopped a missile headed to a human city. The name of the city was left unknown in the webtoon, but I decided it’s Miami, since it didn’t take that long for them to stand upon the ocean to stop the missile (meaning it’s nearby Lukedonia and stationed at the coast of the continent, which would meet the demands to describe the American city that happens to be one of the three vertices making up the Bermuda Triangle). Thus I could come up with the grand secret behind the nobles’ return from death. This “Bermudan Treasure Chest” that I created was in a way a huge spoiler, and the blood-red corals that inhabit this zone was also a hint, in a way. And of course, none of this is canon; this is purely my theory, my creation.

At last I revealed the secret behind the return of the four nobles from the nuclear missile incident, and the two villains of this fic - Helga and Yuhyung - made their official exit. And you also know what will become of the 3rd Elder and Yuigi, and now all that remains is the relationship between Frankenstein and Lunark & the reason why Muzaka’s body moved on its own for survival during the nuclear missile incident. Which means that once these two are settled as well, this fic will be over. There are only 2 more chapters to go, and I can’t tell you how thankful I am to you for staying with me all this way. I’ll see you next week and the week after that with chapters 69 and 70, respectively! Thank you so much! :)

[chocochar]

ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀᴅʏ x ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴀᴍᴘ | Dabi x Reader [Part 1]

(AN: First read this before jumping into the fic, it’s info for it!!

So I got a request for a Lady and the Tramp Dabi x Reader (Which is almost done although it’ll be in two parts, since it’s so long... TuT;) and I got hit with a flood of ideas. So, uh, this was born yay! Dunno if anyone will like it but I’m still gonna keep up on it either way lol Get ready for a lot of introduction, Dabi shows up towards the end of this chapter XD) 

Part 2: TBA

       The kingdom of Musutafu is known far and wide as the largest and most prosperous of all the land; it houses both nobles and royals alike, the common areas popular for their trade and shopping, and the king, Toshinori, is well known for his kind nature. While still standing tall and proud many look up to the man, referring to him as the greatest king that's ruled over there land.

       Nestled in the main city is the (L/n) manor where the nobles (Fa/n) (L/n) and his wife (M/n) (L/n) reside with their 3 daughters (F/n), (first sister), and (second sister). The family is well known for both their business involved in creating top of the line armor, specifically made of rare materials that take weeks to find, and their beautiful daughters, both of which are key reasons so many other families have flocked to them throwing their sons into the pile of suitors wanting at least one daughter's hand in marriage. While her sisters have found fitting men (F/n) is less fortunate. Nearly every single one has either been turned down by her father, clearly only interested in her money, or just not her type. It's frustrating, and sometimes she wonders what it would be like to not be connected to money and power. She's even considered leaving home, maybe becoming a trader in the commoners district, but living a sheltered life and not knowing anything beyond royal parties and courting and fancy meals, she isn't sure how well she'd make it.

       Waking up like she does everyday in her plush, queen sized bed the young woman stares up at her ceiling debating on getting up or not. She's supposed to meet a suitor today, one that her father set up without her knowing until yesterday. She tries to be nice and courteous at the very least every time, they did come to visit so even under those pretenses it's the least she could do (unless they're like the young lord she met last me, ugh... then she drops the niceties and nearly kicks them out with her actual foot.)

       After at least 10 minutes of lying there in a daze she gets up and yawns, stretching and shifting to get out of her bed. It takes about an hour to get ready simply because her mother orders the maids to do up her hair and makeup while also dressing her in a gown that's way too fancy for this occasion (in (F/n)'s opinion).

       Coming down into the dining hall once she's ready (F/n) greets,"Good morning..." with a yawn, her mother shaking her head when she sits down.

       "How many times have I told you ladies cover their mouth when they yawn, and also try to quiet them?"

       (F/n) gives her a tired look before digging into her breakfast. She tries to be ladylike, since her mother will chastise her more if she isn't, and takes small bites, holding her silverware correctly, etcetera. She can feel the overbearing glances from her mother and father while they eat, her sisters keeping up the conversation while (F/n) stays quiet and focuses on her food. She's too lost in thought about the meeting today; This is a bigger and more well known man than before, being apart of the council, the royals who come together in the castle and have meetings to make decisions the king either can't decide on or doesn't have time for.

       The man is Lord Enji Todoroki; his bloodline has been known for generations due to not only their heroic tales of glory or war victories but also their dragon blood allowing them to become the beasts. He's bringing his prodigy son, Shouto, whom she's met before, he's nice although not the most talkative unlike his older siblings. But his father she doesn't trust nearly as much. His wife supposedly went mad and splashed her son with boiling water, his eye scarred from the ordeal years ago, but word has also spread (you have to be careful who you say it around) that his eldest disappeared too after an 'incident'.

       (F/n) doesn't know the details, no one seems to know what happened to him but everyone knows better than to talk about it.

       "Are you ready, (F/n)?" Her father asks breaking her out of her thoughts. She looks at him and nods, forcing a smile and setting her silverware down. He returns the grin and adds,"Todoroki, will be here shortly so-"

       A servant entering the room quiets him and they look, the man saying,"Lord Todoroki has arrived, sir, and he and master Shouto are waiting in the study."

       "Ah, perfect, thank you Hans," (Fa/n) replies, the servant bowing before leaving. (F/n) takes in a deep breath, standing and patting her gown. Her father stands too, saying,"This could be it, (F/n), give it your all dear."

       While she agrees her eyes have trouble meeting her dad's as she turns and leaves, going to the study to greet her guests.

[X][X][X]

       The meeting starts out well, at least, (F/n) sitting across from the two royal men and trying to sit up straight and keep eye contact while they talk. Shouto is much easier to talk to than his father, (F/n) less stiff when he asks a question or replies. But she can clearly see who's leading this meeting.

       "Your family hasn't offered much on the table, (L/n), if it weren't for the business we wouldn't be having this meeting today," Enji remarks, (F/n) biting her lip and taking a breath before replying.

       "Well, your lordship, I truthfully do not know what my father has spoken to you about but if your son and I were to marry I can promise you we'd come to some sort of agreement."

       "Hmmm... I see," is all he says back, and she fidgets with her dress. He's very difficult to talk to, the way his intense gaze seems to be sizing her up. She can feel his disapproval, but for their families he seems to know a marriage would be very beneficial. (F/n) glances at Shouto; he looks like he's having about as much fun as her. She always can tell he doesn't want to be around his father, she can't blame him.

       "A-Anyways, Shouto, I heard your magic was getting much better too," she speaks up, the younger man nodding and softly smiling. He likes talking about his magic, she's noticed, unless his father is boasting about how powerful he is and how he'll be the next king for sure.

       "Yes, thanks to Ochako I've learned to master more spells, especially some of the more difficult out there-"

       "Not that he needed the help of some witch," Enji scoffs, arms crossed. "I have told you before, Shouto, the court mage has been looking to train you and I believe it would be better for you to take that over a girl."

       Shouto narrows his eyes but doesn't bite back, instead taking a deep breath. "I have also practiced more in my dragon form, I can control my elements better than I could last time we met."

       "If you'd like I'd very much like to see it today if we have time." (F/n) smiles warmly, ignoring the tense atmosphere.

       Things seem fine for another few minutes before Enji once more speaks up, cutting (F/n) off as she's talking to Shouto.

       "I have something to ask, (L/n)," she looks at him confused, stiffening at the expression he has. His intense cerulean orbs leave her feeling small, but they look suspicious, the (hair color) haired woman hoping she didn't say anything wrong. "I had heard your father telling one of the other nobles that the business would be going to your cousin, Izuku, is that correct?"

       For once she can't think of a response, eyes wide and the noble clearly confused. 'I-I never heard about this...' She thinks, swallowing. "I... I didn't know about this... Did my father say it directly?"

       "I had overheard them talking about it, I do not know the details but this will unfortunately put an end to this courting if that is the case," He admits without any hesitation. Shouto actually looks at his dad in shock while (F/n) is more taken back by hearing that her father said this. She's the oldest and has been getting taught about how to run everything since she was 14, so why...?

       "Father, you can't just stop it over something like this...!" Shouto tries to argue it but Enji is not one to back down once he's made a decision.

       "She is of no worth to us otherwise, she does not know magic, she's just a noble woman. The Todoroki's produce powerful offspring, we need wives who can give us that and more," He cuts the young man off, this striking a chord with the already upset noble herself. Standing abruptly she breaks the niceties.

       "Who are you to judge, sir? I'm sorry if I am unworthy of your bloodline, but to be honest I wouldn't want to continue it if you are going to be my father-in-law! I am sorry, Shouto, I suppose you'll have to show me your magic some other time where we aren't being roped together against our wills," she snaps, giving the white and red haired heir a sad look before glaring at his father and storming off out of the room. The two nobles sit there, Shouto feeling a strange tightness in his chest but also impressed someone stood up to his father, while Enji is more taken back although anger is quickly growing in his bones.

       When the servant comes looking for them he jumps back when the noble pushes past him storming out of the manor, his son not too far behind although admittedly not wanting to go home just yet.

       (F/n), meanwhile, is off hunting down her father.

[X][X][X]

       "You're giving it all to Izuku?" (F/n) asks the moment she finds (Fa/n), the man looking at her puzzled before it disappears and he's rubbing his neck, turning away from her.

       "Enji told you?" He asks, also having a feeling this suitor won't work out either. But with Izuku taking on the armory giving his daughter away to a man of power is more, in his mind, for her own happiness, no longer in hopes to continue the family business.

       "Yes, he did, and he was not very happy himself when he imagined giving his son to someone so unworthy," she replies bitterly, crossing her arms. He pinches the bridge of his nose annoyed but the hurt in his daughter's voice next catches him off guard. "You... Are really giving everything to Izuku? E-Even though I've been working towards being the next to take it over?" She's always known her father has favored the green haired boy, even if he tries to hide it. Most of the time she tries not to think about it but this time is different.

       "(F/n), you have to understand... Izuku has been training under king Toshinori, he's worked with armor and weapons in the past, and, well-"

       "You will always favorite him," She cuts him off, her father looking taken back but also not defending himself. The hurt on her face is no longer masked and she meets his eyes. "He's special, I understand, so are my sisters, I love them too but... But... I'm you're child too!" He doesn't argue, he has no place to, and she shakes her head; turning the woman rushes out of the room, heading for her own.

       After a few hours of cooling down everyone gathers for dinner, although she eats quickly before hiding away back in her room.

       "I'll never be the child he wants... Maybe I'll go stay at Tsu's, get my mind off of everything..."

       Thus when night falls and everyone is in bed she grabs the bag she packed, currently dressed in a gown with a cloak over it, the hood of said item over her head hiding her face. She wears her flats and hides the necklace around her neck with her family's symbol on it under her clothing. Leaving her room she checks the hall before taking a less occupied, quieter route  to reach the servants quarters. Leaving out the servants entrance she luckily slips away with little to no problems and holding her bag tightly she hurries away.

       Unfortunately her friend lives near the lower areas of the Common Area, and with all the guards she has to take back streets and hide so she isn't seen. Being so sheltered is not in her favor, as she has no idea she's being closely followed and watched until she goes to leave an alley but is pulled back in suddenly.

       "Wh-Wha-" she's muffled by a dirty, large hand. Her (e/c) eyes are wide, the woman freezing up seeing 3 men; the one holding her is on the scruffier side, looking quite a bit older than her and smelling of booze; the one to the right is lanky but has eyes that make her shake, and the left is muscled and missing an eye. The way they eye her up has her terrified and she hopes she brought enough money to maybe appease them.

       "Look at this, guys, we got a pretty thing here, don't we?~" the one holding her grins, his rank breath brushing her face leaving her coughing into his palm and trying to turn her head away.

       "Looks like one of them rich brats, too, check 'er bag!" the scrawny one adds trying to pry her bag from her hold. He succeeds and backs up, (F/n) still struggling to get free. She freezes up when she's groped by the one missing an eye and she shakes her head.

       "Don't worry your pretty lil' head, we ain't lookin' to hurt ya," her holder says but the grin on his face says otherwise as they pull at her gown ready to undress her and do who knows what. She is able to open her mouth just enough to bite his hand, which luckily gets him to pull it back with a,"You lil' bitch-"

       "HELP!" She cries out, hoping someone, anyone will come to her aid before they do anything else.

       The dirty man she bit doesn't hesitate to slap her, causing (F/n) to fall over from the impact, but as he goes to kneel down the scrawny one whispers,"Ah shit, the Tramp!" All 3 stiffen and look at the alley entrance, (F/n) shaking on the ground hand covering her cheek and tears brimming in her eyes. Shakily she opens them when a new voice speaks up,"At it again, boys? Thought I told you 3 this was my area but I guess trash doesn't stay where it belongs."

       She takes in his odd appearance while also wondering if he came to help her or not; his black hair looks wild yet soft to the touch, his bright blue eyes seem to glow in the dim lighting, and she can make out purple scars decorating his body kept together with his normal, pale skin by staples. His clothes have seen better days with tears in different areas and all dark shades, 3 silver piercings sit on the bridge of his nose, and in his ears sit silver loops along the shell and turquoise colored crescent shaped loops in the lobes. He has an expression that's hard to read, although she can make out some irritation. She stares at him hoping he did come to save her, and when he looks down at her she freezes at how intense his cerulean gaze is. It reminds her of a certain noble she told off earlier today...

       His eyes shoot back up to her assailants when the scruffy leader shakily says,"D-Dabi, look, we was just tryin' to do some quick robbin' she wandered this way before we could-"

       "I don't really care what your reasons are, Haggar, just get out of here before all your wives have of you 3 are ashes," he says fluidly, this being no idle threat since the moment they hear it the 3 men are already running back down the alley as fast as they can. The man, 'Dabi', sighs pushing some of his black locks back before he turns back to the trembling woman; (F/n) has gotten up by this point, carefully meeting his eyes and feeling more intimidated by it then even Enji's. But he doesn't seem like he'll hurt her as he walks up to her bag, grabs it, and hands it back to her, (F/n) taking it and biting her lip.

       "Th-Thank you," she says, wondering if she can maybe give him gold as a way of repaying him.

       He looks her over before giving a small grin and saying,"No problem, dollface, I couldn't just stand by, could I?" She turns pink at the name and his tone, but he seems friendly, at least towards her. He starts to leave the alley and she follows almost immediately, having been shaken up by that experience and finding this need to stay close to him. He knows she's following him so he asks,"What's a noble girl doing down here this late at night? Out for a little walk but got lost?"

       "Um, well not exactly, I was going to a friend's home, in the shopping district... And I did get a bit lost, but when I actually figured out the way those men grabbed me," she replies, trying to keep up with him and peering up at him. "If it weren't for you..."

       He glances at her and can see how shaken up she still is, deciding to give a lazy grin and keep up this friendly facade by saying,"Like I said, I couldn't just let those rats hurt a doll like you, good thing I was passing by when you screamed." He hums, getting an idea and stopping to look down at the young woman. "The shopping district is a bit far for you to walk to this late, plus you look pretty exhausted. If you'd like you can stay at my home until morning, it's about 5 minutes from here."

       Despite a little voice telling her not to take the offer (F/n) is too tired to argue or deny him, so nodding she smiles and says,"I-I don't see why not, that's very thoughtful, thank you... Dabi, correct?"

       He nods, starting to walk again. She drags a little behind him, adding,"My name is (F/n), it's nice to meet you." She leaves out her last name, after all she doesn't know Dabi so mentioning her family line could be a bit troublesome. He looks over his shoulder at her and smirks before looking ahead.

       He'll keep up the friendly facade, for now, she seems naive to this side of town. 'As long as I keep up the act she'll be easy puddy in my hands.' He thinks, already knowing who she is, how much her family is worth, and planning on an easy chance to gain quite a bit out of this and finally get out of this city.

       All he has to do is reel her in.

(AN: Okay so almost 3 days working on this one chapter, it's finally done. Sorry it's super long, had to get it goin' y'know? Honestly I dunno how much attention this will get, or if anyone will like it, but it sounded like a fun idea so I'm still gonna write it lol

Sorry if Dabi or anyone is OOC! I'm already working on the next chapter so let me know what you guys think, I love hearing peoples thoughts, any critiques I'm open to, and enjoy! (ง ´͈౪`͈)ว )

[zoryany]

Hi! For those prompts, 25. Why do you have a picture of me? for Luke and Vader?

send me ficlet prompts – optionally include charactersset in the same vague AU as this oneshot I wrote in which vader somehow uses luke to work with the rebellion to bring down palpatine. I still have very few details worked out in this verse but it seemed to fit best with what I wanted to do, so, enjoy!

His father was angry. That, in and of itself, was not unusual – his father was almost always angry, after all – but his anger felt different, this time. He was angry at Luke. Now, of course, that was also not the most unusual of circumstances. The two of them had very different opinions on what was considered ‘proper behaviour,’ and as such his actions tended to put his father into something of a foul mood more often than not. But that usually manifested in something more like annoyance than genuine anger. This…

This felt far closer to the type of rage that rolled off his father before he strangled someone.

He had never been strangled by his father – who claimed he would never hurt him, which Luke tended to believe, most days. In this moment, though, faced with the full weight of Vader’s rage bearing down on him, he was beginning to have his doubts.

“What’s the matter, Father? Aren’t you happy to see me? I made the rendezvous in time and everything!” Luke was fully aware that Vader would not appreciate the flippancy, but the alternative was to display his fear, and he refused to do that in front of his father.

As expected, Vader remained unmoved. Crossing his arms, he inclined his helmet to look at Luke directly. “Do not expect me to be impressed when you have done what is expected of you, boy.” Boy. Not son, or my son, or child – or even Luke. No. He’d said boy. Vader was angry indeed. Several moments passed, Luke not daring speak before his father elaborated. “You have been investigating matters you have no business looking into.”

The fear he’d been working so hard to conceal flared up and Luke let out an involuntary gasp. There was no sense in trying to lie to his father, but he’d really been hoping that Vader hadn’t discovered his particular line of inquiry just yet. “I – ”

“Why do you have this holocron?” he hissed, waving his hand and summoning the crystalline cube from his son’s bag. Leather creaked as Vader tightened his grip on the holocron, and Luke worried he would crush it in his hand. Swallowing thickly past the lump forming in his throat, Luke felt his eyes widen and he took a single step back as Vader advanced on him. “Answer me!”

“How – how did you know I had that?”

“Do not believe that you are my only source within the rebellion, boy.” There it was again. Boy. The tone made Luke’s blood run cold. “You did not answer my question.

Steeling his resolve and deciding not to cower before the so-called Fist of the Empire, Luke tamed his wild expression and set his brows into a scowl, crossing his own arms across his chest in a poor imitation of his father’s previous stance. “Well, what did you expect? The name Skywalker isn’t exactly obscure. People were offering me answers, I wasn’t about to turn them down! Besides, you’re not exactly forthcoming about your past.”

A noise that sounded something like a growl rumbled out of Vader’s vocoder, and his voice was low and dangerous when he spoke next. “The past is best left where it belongs, boy. Let it remain buried. If you cannot leave well enough alone, I will recall you from your mission and punish you accordingly.”

“Father!” Luke took a step forward as Vader began to turn on his heel, apparently angry enough that he didn’t even want to hear Luke’s report. He caught his father’s arm, and instantly he reeled back as Vader whirled around sharply to face him.

“Do not – ”

“No, Father, it’s my past too – my history. I have every right to know.” Luke could feel his own anger and frustration rising in his chest, bubbling in his stomach, washing over him and tensing his muscles. “I’m not going to leave it up to you which parts of my life I get to know about. Stars, I had to find out my own mother’s name from Ahsoka –” He instantly clamped his mouth shut, teeth clicking together, and his eyes blew wide as he realized he made a mistake.

“Ahsoka Tano…” 

“Father, please, don’t, just leave her –”

“I presume she’s the one who gave you this?”

Luke remained quiet for a few moments, debating the merits of lying or refusing to answer before finally sighing and deciding that he was best off telling the truth. “She was. She… always speaks so highly of her former master, about how much she learned from him, admired him… How skilled he was. How – how kind.” He couldn’t bring himself to meet his father’s gaze. “She really looked up to you, you know.” 

Several cycles of the respirator echoed between them before either father or son moved or spoke again. Luke wondered, vaguely, if they might stay this way forever, in some state of perpetual limbo, but a tingling warning in the Force caused him to snap his head up and catch the holocron that sailed back into his hands. “I was… unaware that she was working with the rebellion.”

“She serves as a Fulcrum agent.” Luke let a soft chuckle spill out past his lips. “You should have seen her face when I told her my name. Though, I suppose it was a little sad, now that I think about it… Almost like she’d seen a ghost.”

“Is she… aware of our connection?” Vader’s rage had subsided, but his shields were up and impenetrable; Luke had no idea what was going through his father’s mind, and that question really didn’t clear anything up either.

“No. As far as the Alliance is concerned, you’re still just ‘my source in the Empire.’ Nobody suspects a thing.” He was grateful for that, too. He felt bad for lying, but he knew Leia would never forgive him if she found out, at least while they were still at war. “Ahsoka gave me the holocron because… heh, she wanted me to be able to learn something from you. I wasn’t about to correct her. But… everyone always says how much I ‘look like my father,’ and I just – I donno, wanted to see it for myself?”

His father remained silent and still, looking for all the world like a statue, the constant hiss of his breathing the only indication that he was indeed a living, breathing being. 

Faced with the lack of response, Luke plowed forward. “I don’t see it, you know. I mean… yeah, I have the same blond hair, the same chin, the same eyes… but I don’t see myself in the man in that holocron. I don’t – I hold myself differently, move differently… I feel like I resemble that man as much as I resemble you now.”

“Ahsoka spoke of Padmé?” The words came out slow and deliberate, bearing a pain that was alien in the modulated voice.

“She did. I was able to find a holo of her, too – just an image, but… she was beautiful. I don’t think I look very much like her at all, either.” It hurt to admit, but there were times when all he felt between himself and his parents was an enormous, yawning chasm. He breathed out his next words in a voice that was hardly audible.“Leia looks more like her than I do…”

“You resemble her far more than you realize, my son.” The pain was deepening, the words spoken with more effort, but Luke felt a flutter of… something ripple through him as his father carried on. “You have her nose. Her stature. More than just her looks. She shared your… passion for justice. Your sense of morals and integrity. And you have both… given me a… purpose… beyond what… others might ask – demand of me.”

Any other being in the galaxy saying those exact same words would sound cold, uncaring, unkind, but coming from Vader… It was the peak of warmth, care and affection. Luke felt a smile bloom across his face, and though he did not say the words out loud, he sent his sentiment out along their bond – I love you too, Father.

Vader stiffened slightly, acknowledging the thought not with words, but a general feeling of affirmation before relaxing again. “Very well. You may… keep the holocron. And I will not recall you from your mission. But I will ask that you keep any conversation about… the past to a minimum with others. Do so and I may concede to… discuss certain matters – ones of my own choosing – with you further myself. Am I understood?”

At this point, Luke couldn’t help it – he was positively beaming. Nodding vigourously, he snapped off a salute. “Perfectly, sir!” The image of rolling eyes flickered briefly in his mind’s eye, which only caused his grin to grow even wider.

“Now,” his father continued, steering them away from sentimentality and back into the comfort of business, “I’ll have your report and we can be on our way.”

Rattling off the report felt mechanic and insincere to Luke, after what he’d just shared with his father, but he knew they had to be quick so as not to raise too much suspicion. He did feel a twinge of reluctance as they said their goodbyes – from him and his father both – but Vader did manage to surprise him one last time before they went their separate ways.

For the briefest of moments, a flash of affection danced along their bond. He felt it for him, but he also felt it for Ahsoka. Along with that, the word ‘Snips’ flickered briefly, attached to Ahsoka, before the bond shuttered and Vader withdrew into the unreadable stone wall he typically was. Still, as he greeted Artoo and climbed into his X-Wing, Luke couldn’t help but feel that Anakin Skywalker wasn’t nearly as dead as his father claimed.

[rorynne]

Time Lost (Rewrite) Ch 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Summary: An accident during a mission sends you back in time to the second world war. There you enlist the help of Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes to find the object that can send her back.

Warnings: not much bucky but he will be more present going forward

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: This is a rewrite of an OC fic that I have been writing and been wanting to turn into a reader Fic. Im unsure if I will be continuing the OC fic currently, I may just transfer it completely to my reader Fic. Currently 6 chapters are up of the OC fic, and I shall be posting a rewritten chapter every few days on here.

Masterlist

Prologue

Storm clouds hung heavy in the sky as you sat in the back of a jeep bound for the current SSR base in Italy. Almost two years of searching and there was barely any information on the bell to go off of. It was beyond frustrating. At this rate, you were starting to wonder if you would ever get back to your time. Granted, all of the documents you brought back were dated 1943 or later, chances were development on the bell had only just begun. And if that were the case, hopefully, it wasn't going to take them seventy years to finish.

Your general lack of ability to change anything also proved to be frustrating as hell. Only Peggy knew of your true origins. They had both decided against going around saying you were from the future, god only knew that would just get them both locked up. However, as a result, that meant you were far less likely to be believed any time you tried to keep an event from happening if you lacked any evidence. you never thought you would sympathize with Cassandra.

“I was beginning to wonder when you'd show up.” A familiar voice teased as the jeep came to a halt. You smiled as you saw Peggy waiting to inspect the arriving convoy. Peggy had managed to make the last two years far more bearable, becoming quick friends with you.

“You know me,” You said, jumping out of the back of the jeep. “I like to keep everyone guessing.”

Peggy smiled as you approached. “Perhaps a little too much.” She accused. “How was Paris?”

You shrugged and canted your head, “Beautiful city, great food, interesting history.” You crossed your arms. “Too bad I wanted to shoot the majority of my company.”

“I trust you were able to resist the temptation?” Said Peggy eyeing you in amusement.

“Figured I would let the boys have the nazi killing fun for now.” You sniffed indignantly. “Kind of regret it now. At least then I would have something to account for coming back.”

“No luck on the bell?”

“No luck on anything.” You corrected, “A whole lot of Nazis but no hydra. It seems the intel we had was either old or false.”

Peggy nodded at one of the soldiers carrying a crate from a truck. “You think they’ve caught on to us?”

You chewed your cheek. “I'm not sure. I can't say they knew I was coming, or I’d be dead. Or at least so I would assume. I don't see any reason why they would keep me alive knowing I'm a spy. But at the same time, there wasn't a single member of hydra there. I've never seen that before, usually there's at least one.

Peggy narrowed her eyes. “If we aren't being fed false information then somethings happening.”

“And whatever it is, I think the ones outside of hydra are just about as in the dark as we are. Hydra’s making a play, a big one.”

“A faction split?” Peggy offered.

“It's possible. But if it's that, they've got to be pretty confident that they can win.” You scratched the back of your neck, entirely unsure of what to make about any of it.

Peggy nodded, “If what the surviving 107th are saying is true, it seems they've got just that.” Seemingly content with the convoy, Peggy started towards the SSR command tent. “Your history books say anything about this?”

You followed close behind. “About the 107th? Not much. They get captured, Captain America comes in and saves the day singlehandedly. Dunno how much stock I put into to all that personally. Lotta things about the Cap and hydra got covered up after the war by shield. Especially in the history books.”

Peggy frowned, walking into the tent. “I can believe it. I've seen Rogers in action, unfortunately, the army seems content parading him around America singing about war bonds.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me, what?”

“Peggy gestured to the poster hanging from a support beam of the tent. “Captain America,” it read, “on tour: Allied bases across Europe and North Africa.” You bit your lip to keep from laughing, this was not how you ever imagined meeting Captain America.

“They, they really have him singing?” You said, fighting to keep a straight face.

“Dancing at the very least,” said Peggy, not sounding the slightest bit amused. “Bloody waste if you ask me. He’ll be arriving and preforming here tomorrow.”

You shook your head, still staring at the poster. “I wouldn't miss it for the world.”

The captain's performance was, frankly, every bit as hilarious as you expected. The rest of the crowd, however, didn't seem to agree. Instead, they demanded the dancing girls come back on stage. You grimaced as the famous Steve Rogers walked off stage, noticeably embarrassed. The Captain America you knew was a hero, a legend even. But this was before all of his exploits before he saved the world more times than you could count. He barely seemed to be the same man.

You held back for a time, figuring he would want space after such a humiliation. But, as the rain that had been threatening for two days now began to pour, you went searching for him. Surely there was something that pushed him out of the theater and into heroism because he was far better at the latter. Whose brilliant idea even was it to have him dancing around in the first place?

You found him with Peggy, taking refuge from the rain under a wooden awning behind the stage. Peggy's face was stern as you neared, “And these are your only options? Lab rat or dancing monkey?”

“War hero seems like a fun third option.” You cut in, earning a raised eyebrow from Peggy. “Or, you know, literally anything else.”

He looked at you with apprehension and confusion as Peggy took a patient breath. “What Agent L/N means, is you were meant for more than this.”

You extended a hand to him. “Sorry, my humor isn't for everyone. Y/N L/N.”

He nodded, shaking your hand. “Steve Rogers.” He sighed as his attention was pulled to an arriving red cross truck. “These men look like they've gone through hell.”

You crossed your arms, “They've gone through war.”

“These men more than most. They're what's left of the 107th.” Peggy agreed and you winced. What these men had seen seemed to make hell seem heavenly.

Steves' eyes went wide. “The 107th?” He was up and running to the command tent before Peggy could even respond. You and Peggy shared a glance before chasing after him through the rain.

Col. Phillips sat signing what were presumably condolence letters at his desk in the back fo the tent as steve rushed up to him. Phillips looked up just barely before returning to the letters. “If it isn't the star-spangled man with a plan. What do I own the pleasure.”

“I need the casualty list from Azzano,” Steve said with unexplained urgency.

Phillips looked up from his papers with a glare. “You don't get to give me orders.”

“I just need one name,” Steve continued, “Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th.” The name tugged the back of your memory, you had heard it somewhere before, in a museum maybe? That was right, you recalled the handsome picture of a soldier engraved in stone in the howling commando exhibit at the Smithsonian. He had been the one that died. Steve lost his best friend. You gave him a pitiful look as he argued with Phillips, you had always thought that Barnes became a commando before dying.

“But I don't expect you to understand that because you're a chorus girl.” Phillips's harsh words pulled you out of your thoughts.

“I think I understand just fine,” Steve responded coolly.

“Then understand it somewhere else, if I read the posters right you have somewhere to be in 30 minutes.” Phillips moved passed him to look over maps with another officer, making his stance on the conversation clear.

“Yes sir,” Steve said, studying the large map board in front of him, “I do.” He turned on his heels and rushed out of the tent, leaving you and Peggy in his wake.

“I’ll go after him,” Peggy whispered to you. “We need maps and supplies, whatever you can think of, then meet us in the hangar as soon as you can.”

You nodded letting Peggy follow after Steve. You stood there for a moment, pretending to study the map board before quickly and casually taking a smaller map off Col. Phillips desk and slipping it into your coat. With a nod to the nearest officer, you walked out of the tent and into the rain.

Already thoroughly drenched from your previous two treks thought the rain, you didn't bother trying to shield yourself from the downpour as you made your way to the nearest storehouse. Knowing Peggy, they were probably going to get court-martialed with whatever she had planned, so might as well go the whole hog and steal any supplies Steve might need.

You grabbed a gunny sack as soon as you entered the storeroom and started filling: A compass, multiple rations of food, a blanket, flashlight, rope, matches. Anything and everything that you could think of that he might need should he get lost. ‘Cause God knows, the way he was charging off, he damn well didn't consider any of this.

“Hey!” A guard called to you. “You aren't authorized to take any of this!”

You slung the sack over your shoulder as the guard approached. “Youll find that I am, private.” You bluffed. “Under official SSR orders. Unless that is, you want to waste Col Phillips time clearing it with him first?” The guard blanched at the mention of Phillips's name.

“No, Ma’am!” He said quickly, stepping out of your way. You gave a sharp nod before escaping the warehouse. you started toward the Hangar before pausing and looking at the stage. A devilish smile came over you as you changed your course.

The backstage was empty when you entered, likely all the actors and dancers were still on break, leaving the costumes unguarded. Because, really, who on earth would want to steal them, besides you. You hummed the tune to ‘star-spangled man’ as you picked up a helmet with a large white ‘A’. One thing was for sure, steve was going to save the 107th in (extremely questionable) style.

Peggy, Steve, and Stark were waiting at the hangar when you arrived, helmet in hand, a grin plastered across your face. “You know, for a star-spangled man with a plan, I'm wondering if you've ever had a plan in your life.” You teased, handing him the helmet and sack of supplies.

Steve gave you a look as he fiddled with the helmet, “In all fairness ma’am, you haven't known me long.”

“First impressions mean a lot, Rogers.” You shrugged, moving onto Peggy. “Though I’m not sure if this plan is much better than no plan,” You said in a low voice only Peggy could hear.

“We don't have many other options at the current moment.” Peggy defended as Steve and Stark boarded the plane. “Unless you somehow convinced Col. Phillips to give us an army.”

“I'm not a miracle worker.” You sighed.

“You said he was able to do this single-handed, we just need to have faith.” Peggy took a deep breath, even she didn't seem completely convinced.

You nodded, “Time to prove the history books right. I’ll stay grounded to try to keep the colonel distracted. Go.” You gave a mock salute as the plane took off, leaving you behind.

Keeping Phillips occupied until the plane returned proved to be quite easy. He was already extremely busy, and with some strategic playing dumb and careful excuses as to why you were doing Peggy's work, he was none the wiser until the plane landed the next morning. Then the shit hit the fan.

Steve didn't come back. Two weeks after the flight to Austria and there was absolutely no sign of him either. Phillips was furious, you did everything in your power to avoid him, though you knew it wouldn't be long before consequences came. There was a good possibility that your chance to get home was lost if Steve didn't show up.

You sat on the ground against a tree, picking at your fingers. At this point, you didn't even care about getting home. Instead, you couldn't shake the guilt of getting an avenger killed before the avengers were even a thing. The guilt of it alone made it difficult for you to even sleep at night. you would have gone into Austria yourself to find him, if Phillips hadn't expressly forbidden it, and kept an armed guard on you 24/7 as a baby sitter.

“You look like a child that's been sent to the headmaster,” Peggy said looking down at you.

You nodded, “Feel like it too.”

“Do you regret helping him?” Peggy asked, voice tight.

You sighed and looked up at her, “I regret not helping him more.” You admitted, “I teased him about not having a plan, and then didn't even try to give him one. I could have followed that dumbass into Austria myself.” The young soldier acting as your baby sitter shifted uncomfortably. “Stop acting like you've never heard a woman fucking swear Simmons.”

“Y-yes ma’am” He stammered and you rolled your eyes.

“We did everything we could for him,” Peggy reassured, ignoring Simmons. “He would have walked to Austria if we didn't help him.”

You laughed weakly, “I’ve done stupider things.” You paused for a beat, biting your lip, “Peggy, I, I’m sorry about this all. I could tell how much you liked him.”

Peggy swallowed, “Yes, well. I'm glad he wasn't stuck as a dancing monkey.” She cleared her throat, “I'm going to speak with Col. Phillips if you would like to join me.”

You scoffed, “No, I'd rather him find me if he wants to chew me out.” Peggy nodded and left you sitting under your tree. No doubt Phillips would be in a bad mood. He was finally calling off the searches today, officially labeling Steve Rogers as KIA. God, if only you had just gone with him as back up, at least then either he would be alive or you’d be too dead to care.

You threw your head back in frustration as hoots and hollers came from the front of the camp. Soldiers began running to the gates, curious, you joined them. You gasped when you saw what the soldiers were congregating for.

A hundred some odd men came marching through the gates, Steve Rogers, Captain America, leading the way. Cheers rippled through the crowd as the group walked through the camp, stopping in front of Col. Phillips. You slipped between the men in efforts to get a better view.

“Hey!” The man next to steve yelled, making you freeze, surprised, as you saw the familiar handsome face of a man you had only seen in museum exhibits. “Let's hear it for Captain America!” The crowd roared, men throwing their caps in the air, whistling, yelling, clapping. You found yourself clapping too as Barnes’s eyes locked onto yours for a brief moment. He smiled faintly as he caught sight of you, a sparkle of something in his steel-blue eyes as you shifted your attention to finding Col. Phillips.

You moved through the crowd in search of him, only to find him missing from it. you soon found him exactly where you expected him to be, the SSR command tent. you wore a sly smirk that would have read ‘I told you so” Had he bothered to look up at you. Instead, he focused on packing away his desk. “Don't think for a moment that just because Captain Rogers came back that you're off my shit list Agent L/N.”

You frowned, “He saved at least a hundred and fifty men. I played a part in that.”

“And that’s exactly why I'm not court martialing you for theft of government property.” He said as he tucked away a folder into a box. “Tell Agent Carter to pack her things, we’re returning to London for debriefing first thing tomorrow.”

You scowled, “Yes sir.”

[atamascolily]

Lily reads Star Wars: Red Harvest, part five

This book summed up in one sentence: "Hello, naughty children, it's murder time.... specifically, YOUR murder!” *evil laughter*

In which the students at Sith Hogwarts meet something that’s even creepier than they are... and they like it. Some of them. For a bit. 

(If you’re just joining me, check out the “Red Harvest” tag on my blog for previous posts)

Cut to not!Qui-Gon, his cloak billowing in the wind. 

“You landed on the wrong world, Jedi.”

Trace turned and faced him directly. The man was a Sith Master; that much was readily apparent—perhaps an instructor at the academy.

Okay, fine, but how do you know that, Trace?? What does a Sith Master even look like? Is their a dress code? Is it his presence?? This explains nothing. But that’s totally in character, because Rojo Trace is a Jedi of few words and never explains anything.

“I am Shak’Weth, Blademaster here on Odacer-Faustin. I can only assume that you came here seeking humiliation and an unpleasant death.”

“I’m here on other matters.”

“Ah?” The Blademaster cocked his head slightly, looking marginally intrigued. “But you’ve found me instead.”

Their duel is interrupted by a zombie attack, allowing not!Qui-Gon to escape and the Blademaster to die a horrible death.

In case we needed the reminder, the Whiphid bounty hunter is also a horrible person, as Zo learns when she tries to read his mind:

Normally her telepathic abilities weren’t particularly strong when it came to non-plant life-forms, but the Whiphid was what she thought of as a relatively easy read. In fact, from within, his mind resembled nothing so much as the trophy room aboard his ship where she’d first awakened: a place of death, a de facto display space for grotesque trophies and old kills. Some were alien species that she’d never seen before. Others were human. All were brought together in universal expressions of pain, desperation, and helplessness that they’d worn as the bounty hunter had delivered the coup de grâce. His mind had become a storehouse of their dying moments. This crypt of suffering, this reliquary, wasn’t just what he carried around in his head every day—it was his head.

He does not take kindly to Zo poking around in his mind. Zo is freaked out because she saw Scabrous watching her in there, too. They take shelter in the Tauntaun stables (because this is set on not!Hoth), and it turns out that the bounty hunter is a softie for them. Then the animals start screaming and the lights go out.

It turns out the Sith students love being zombies. Who would have ever guessed.  

He saw it with two sets of eyes: the ones he’d had when he’d been alive, and the strange new vision that the Sickness had given him. On some intuitive level he understood that the first set was fading, going blind, and that was fine with him, absolutely fine. The Sickness had given him everything he’d hoped for, everything he wanted, power and strength beyond all imagining. It had altered the midi-chlorians in his bloodstream, telescoping his natural abilities, enhancing them exponentially.

...The newly dead were rising slowly, shuffling to their feet. Rising up with them, Lussk stared into their faces, faces that he recognized from the academy, now contorted into something utterly new. He felt no fear at the sight of them, no sense of foreboding—only a slick dark fascination.

I’m looking at my future, he thought, and shivered with anticipation. It was a good future, he realized, an endless future, a place of unfathomable possibility.

But there's a price. Of course there is.

The Sickness wanted his soul.

No, Lussk told it. It’s too much. Even for what you offer, even for immortality itself, the price is too high.

A Sith with standards? Say it ain't so!  

I will make you the last one, the Sickness promised. Of all the others, you alone shall endure. That is what I have to offer you.

No.

The Sickness paused within him, considering. That is too bad, it said finally, because you no longer have a choice in the matter.

Yeah, it doesn't go well.

Also, turns out the zombies have a hive mind because the Sickness is controlling them all. So that's creepy, too. I’m not sure how all this works because this isn’t the sort of book to go in for explanations and world-building mechanics, so we’re just gonna roll with it.

The remaining students find the inevitable secret Sith weapon stash. The one female Sith, Kindra, is about to murder the asshole of the group, who's trying to off her in a power struggle because she won't give him a lightsaber, when they get interrupted and... you know what, I'm on her side here (inasmuch as I sympathize with any of these characters).

The Big Bad orders the tree librarian to use Psychic Plant Power to pretend to be the orchid and lure Zo to the library and bites him when he doesn't immediately comply. Zo and the bounty hunter fight zombies, and it all seems hopeless, but Zo hears her big brother's voice in her memory, and it powers her up for a big fight scene in bullet-time.

The tree librarian goes mad and sets the library on fire because the bite is infected with the Sickness. It's super metal.

Old fool, it had said, foolish old creature, your life has been wasted here among your books.

The Neti had tried to respond, to tell it no, that these scrolls and texts were his life, but the Sickness hadn’t shown the slightest bit of interest in that. It had more to say, and the Neti realized that he was a captive audience.

It’s not too late, the Sickness said. I have given you new life, and a new purpose, and you will know it if you seek my face. Will you, old tree? Will you seek my face?

What is it? the Neti asked. What is your face?

Mine is the face of blood and fire.

... The flesh is our fuel, the Sickness counseled, and its voice was like thunder now, and the books are our fuel, and this planet is our fuel, all things are fuel, they exist only so that they can be consumed by us.

Yes, yes—

They are meat for the beast.

Yes.

And the beast is you.

Yes.

This is literally how the virus thinks about everybody and everything and that's absolutely terrifying.

The Sith students get attacked, again. Interesting tidbit:

only Sith Masters can use Force lightning, how—

A bunch of zombies get electrocuted by Force lightning when a Sith Master shows up to "help". One of the students get injured, and turns into a zombie and gets electrocuted by the master.

The bounty hunter abandons Zo because she wants to go to the library because she thinks she hears the orchid calling her (we know it’s the now-evil Tree Librarian under Scabrous’s orders). So he goes exploring on his own instead.

The students must have used this place, he thought—some wit had left a handmade sign painted over the entranceway. It read:

WELCOME TO THE PAIN PIPE

Tulkh looked around. It appeared to be some kind of training simulation chamber, a wide, high space full of elaborately machined devices that protruded from the floor and walls, even down from the ceiling—pillars, pinions, retracted coils, and battering rams. But that quick impression was all that Tulkh was able to absorb before the hatch burst open behind him, allowing the flood of bodies to come spewing into the space with him.

Not without a sense of the absurd, thought:

Teenage Sith zombies, Tulkh thought—how in the moons of Bogden had it all started? Every so often, the universe must just get bored and decide to really cut loose.

UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE YEAR. Especially ironic since none of this would have happened if Tulkh hadn’t brought the orchid here, but I guess he’s not in a position to appreciate that.

Anyway, he finds Scabrous's droid:

“You’re an HK model.”

“Confirm: A Czerka Corp HK series, yes, sir, but—”

“You know what HK stands for?”

“Response: It’s an industry term, sir, but—”

“Hunter-killer.”

The droid made a scandalized chirp. “Correction: Respectfully, you’re mistaken, sir. I am a protocol droid. Proficient in millions of galactic languages and—”

“Czerka built you special to get around local laws banning assassin droids.” Tulkh was gritting his teeth now. “Those flip shields over your eyes—that’s a combat modification. When Scabrous brought you here, he put a restraining bolt on you, but if I do this—”

He yanked the bolt off. There was a brief, hissing sizzle as the HK’s processor muzzle shorted out. Tulkh felt his skin tighten, his fur standing on end. He cast a grim look at the droid. “Remember now?”

Wait, so the HK droid didn't realize it was an assassin, it thought it was a protocol droid? OH MY GOODNESS, THAT EXPLAINS SO MUCH, and I totally didn't catch that earlier. Okay, this is gonna be good, and by good, I mean, incredibly violent and probably full of explosions. 

The asshole student wants to kill the one female student because he's an asshole. They make her strip naked to prove she's not infected, because they're assholes--only for the master to reveal he's been infected the whole time. The asshole dies, Kindra survives, and shanks the one other survivor so the zombies will get him and not her. #PowerMove. Zo is going to be the Final Girl, but Kindra's made it surprisingly far. I bet the librarian is going to kill her, though, because of that conversation they had earlier.

Meanwhile, Zo is looking for the orchid:

Tulkh had refused to follow her here, leaving her to go alone. When she’d confronted him about it and said, Let me get this straight, you’ll walk into a Sith Lord’s tower, but you won’t go into a library, he’d merely nodded and planted his feet, telling her that he knew a trap when he saw one.

#accurate, since Darth Scabrous is waiting for her in the library. He's a medical monstrosity, because his face is still falling apart, but the Sith alchemy is keeping the Sickness at bay--for now. (Or is it?)

[deniigi]

Do you still have the scene where they drop the house on tats laying around?? If so can we read it?

damn; slightly concerning that you’re into house-dropping, anon. But yeah,sure;  here, have it under the cut. (sorry mobile kids)

it might feel weird because it was part of a different main plot, so just keep that in mind. Oh, and I was also using this chapter to try to figure out Peter B. and Tats’s relationship so that may seem a little off too (was trying to figure out if I wanted to go for ‘annoying little brother/cousin’ or ‘friend, you need to relax’ and ended up going with the latter.)

Warnings: heads up for claustrophobia, high key anxiety/panic attack, and generally someone having a building collapse on them.

Tats Spidey paced like Peter B. paced only less methodicallyand with more enthusiasm. Miles thought he was maybe making star shapes aroundhis living room as he chattered away. Gwen kept shivering. Miles touched hershoulder and gave her a questioning look. She leaned in and murmured,

“It freaks me out to hear Murdock talk like that.”

Tats Spidey stopped and focused in on them.

“Matt’s not a bad guy,” he stated, evidently rememberingGwen’s suspicions from a while back. “He’s like my mom friend. Secondary momfriend, actually, Wade’s the ultimate mom friend.”

Wade?

“I know, I get that. He’s just, you know, the bane of myexistence in my verse,” Gwen said. Tats Spidey pouted at her a little and thenheld up his phone where ‘Red’ was trying to call back for the umpteenth time.

“You can talk to him if you want,” he said, “I can’t becausehe’s freaking out now. And if I talk to him, then he’ll get Wade involved andpossibly Castle, and we don’t got time for that. ”

That, my friend, wouldbe because you just hung up on him, Miles thought to himself.

“We don’t got time?” Peter asked hesitantly. “Why don’t wegot time?”

Tats Spidey jerked his way with a huge smile.

“’Cause we gotta drop a building on me,” he said.

Tats Spidey didn’t bother with his suit, he just swapped outhis boots for a pair of sneakers, locked the door and he was off.

Minimum explanation.

Maximum confidence.

Miles hated it. Gwen hated it. Peter hated it more than thetwo of them combined. He kept trying to put himself in front of Tats Spidey toget him to stop, but Tats Spidey simply ducked under his arms or hopped overhis shoulders, like it was no big deal.

The guy had had some serious training, like wow. He was themost fluid Spiderman Miles had encountered. He didn’t flit around like the restof them did.

He was a man on a mission, and he seemed to have the perfectbuilding to maim himself with in mind. They chased him all the way to a part ofQueens just out in the suburbs which was surrounded by yellow tape, chain-linkfences, and huge signs stating that the grounds were dangerous and had beencondemned. Peter managed to get a handful of Tats Spidey’s jacket before hestarted climbing the fence.

“No,” he growled, “Stop. We’re not going any further untilyou tell us what’s going on. I ain’t here to watch your suicide.”

Tats Spidey blinked at him then scoffed.

“I’m not suicidal, dumbass,” he said. “I know what I’mdoing, done it before.”

“So what are wedoing?” Gwen said, putting herself between the two Peters. “Just tell us straight.”

Tats Spidey looked between her and the building to theirright a few times before shrugging.

“I’m gonna make me a medium,” he said.

“You?” Peter and Gwen asked at the same time. Miles felthimself take a mental step back.

“Yeah, me. Listen. This guy we’re hearing, he’s in pain,he’s freaking out, he’s having like, the worst time of his life right now. Wedon’t know what else he’s got, but he’s got all that, so we’ll use it. If hisupset can get across all these dimensions to other Spideys then surely someoneelse’s can, and that means that it can get back to him. We’ll use the fear as amedium, like a mutual way of communicating, so that we can talk to him and hecan talk back to us.”

“We,” Peter said, “You keep saying we, but you’re talking—”

“Me,” Tats Spidey corrected. “I’ll do it. I am currentlyunmedicated and, boy howdy, do I got an extra stock of them same feelings.”

Miles joined Gwen in standing between the Peters.

“You can’t do that,” he said, “You’re gonna give yourself apanic attack.”

“Yeah, man, that’s the point,” Tats Spidey said. “Actually,the point is to go beyond that, if you know what I mean.”

“No,” the other three all snapped at once.

Tats Spidey threw out his hands defensively.

“Y’all got any better plans, then? Huh? Go on.”

Miles’s heart pounded in his chest because no, he didn’t.and he turned to the other two. They both seemed to be doing their best withflickering eyes, but no one had anything fast enough.

“See?” Tats Spidey said. “It’s fine, like 90% of my self-esteemcomes from being a martyr, let’s go.”

What.

Sir, if you know this, then shouldn’t you be like, workingon it?

“I am working onit. I got a therapist. She’s always telling me to get support. Hi Y’all are nowsupport. So you can come support me or you can let me do it on my own. I’mdoing it any way around.”

This. Fucking. Guy.

Peter had his hands clawed out in front of him and Gwen hadtrapped her head in between her palms trying to process this logic.

Tats Spidey went to jump the fence, but Miles’s heart leaptand almost without thinking, he reached out and caught the guy’s sleeve.

“I’ll help you,” he said, because straight up? There were noother options right now. They’d already come all this way, there was no turningback now. Any more waffling and the dying Spidey will have passed by the timethey got to him.

Tats Spidey grinned at him and squatted down with his handscupped. It took Miles a second to realize what he was offering and he couldadmit he was a little wary before he went a few paces back and jogged forwardto plant a foot into the hold.

Tats Spidey hiked him cleanly up over the fence, thencheered a little when he landed safely on the other side.

“Any other takers?” he asked.

Gwen and Peter directed their ire at Miles. He shrugged onthe other side of the fence.

“God, I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Gwen finallylamented. Tats Spidey crowed in delight and offered her a boost. She shoved himto the side and climbed the fence herself. Peter groaned and shoved Tats Spideya second when he crowded up into his space, beaming, for confirmation of hisinvolvement as well.

“How do you even know about this place?” Gwen asked as theyall climbed through the only window without a layer of plywood nailed over it.And the only reason that was evenmissing was because Tats Spidey had punched it in shortly after they’d managedwriggle the last bits of broken glass out of the frame.

“I get around,” Tats Spidey said. He picked his way arounddecaying old furniture and left perfect footprints in the dust behind him. Youcould see the Vans logo and everything. Miles snapped back to earth uponhearing the guy start opening and closing all the cupboards he could get hishands on.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Peter asked, followingthe footsteps back through the empty hall and leaving his own larger ones inhis wake. Gwen shivered. Miles offered her his sweater, but she shook her head.

“Looking for stairs to the basement,” they heard Tats Spideygrumbling in the kitchen.

They heard a yelp and then Peter came out dragging the guyby his collar. He stomped around over to a door attached to one of the wallsand opened it like he’d lived in the place for a million years. And sureenough, there was a set of stair leading down into darkness behind it. TatsSpidey looked at it and then back up at Peter in awe.

“That’s so cool,”he said.

“This is my neighbor’s house in my verse,” Peter snapped.

Miles winced. It suddenly made sense why Peter had straightup refused to just break the window out front.

“No shit?” Tats Spidey said. “So it’s—”

“Got the same building plan as mine, yes.”

“Why do you live so far out?” Tats Spidey prodded. Petergave him an irritable look.

“None of your damn business,” he said.

This very obviously only made Tats Spidey more curious.

“Car collection,” he guessed. Peter made a noise of disgust andabandoned them all to go try to find a flashlight somewhere. Tats Spidey followedhim.

“Your aunt’s old house?”

There was a loud thunkin the closet Peter had decided to investigate and he swore.

“Secret lab?”

“Would you just—”

“Converting it to a condo?”

“You know what? Hold this. Thank you.”

“Up and coming podcaster? Photographer in need of a darkroom? Accidental serial killer? Oh my god, do you hide the bodies in yourbasement?”

It probably wasn’t the time to be giggling, but those twowere kind of a pair. Gwen tried to pretend like she wasn’t amused, but Milessaw through that in a heartbeat.

There was a scraping noise and then some more scuffling, andthen Peter returned with a working flashlight in one hand and a fist full ofTat’s Spidey’s flannel in the other. He pointed the flashlight down the stairsinto the realm of dust motes.

“Alright,” he said, “Who’s first?”

There was no question as to who went first now that they hadTats Spidey on the team. He was a bit of a daredevil, which Miles realized now madea whole lot of sense given his Mr. Murdock. That said, Tats Spidey did, to hiscredit, test each stair before he set his whole weight on it.

“This is cool,” he hummed was he vanished into the dark withonly the weak beam of the flashlight for help, “We’re good. This is cool.”

Miles wondered belatedly what exactly he was afraid of whichmade him think that dropping a house on himself was the optimal scenario forcarrying out his plan.

“We’re good, we’re cool. It’s dark, we’re cool.”

Gwen was worried for Tats Spidey and went immediately afterhim.

“Are you, uh–?” she started.

“Fuckingclaustrophobic? Hell yeah, I am,” Tats Spidey said just as Miles took thefourth step down. Peter made another choked off noise behind him.

“You’re the stupidest Spidey we’ve met,” he declared.“Hands-down, 100%. And we met Spiderham.”

“Ham?” came a disembodied, now extremely nervous-soundingvoice from the dark.

“Yeah, ham, like the pig.”

It was not funny enough to warrant that kind of laughing.Uh-uh, Miles knew nervous giggling from anywhere. And it was making him nervous now.

“We don’t have to do this,” Gwen said somewhere down there. Theflashlight flickered and went out and Tats Spidey started swearing like it washis day job down there in the dark. Miles shuddered on the seventh step. Peterspread a comforting hand over the nape of his neck. It was warm.

“It’s alright,” he said, “It just needs a shake. Keepgoing.”

He breathed in deep and took another step.

“Oh god, we’re doing this,” Tats Spidey sobbed.

“Dude, I just said we don’t have to,” Gwen said.

“No, no. We’re good, we’re cool, we’re cool, we’re good.”

Miles’s foot touched the concrete basement floor. It wasnearly soft with layers of dust. He held out his hands and jolted when hebumped into Gwen. She yelped and Tats Spidey yelped and it took a bit of Peterusing his adult calming voice to get everyone settled again. He flicked theflashlight on again and everyone flinched back.

It was just a basement. Just a regular old basement with anancient, rusted water heater and what had to be years of dust and vermin carcasseslittered around.

“Alright, this is your chance,” Peter said to Tats Spideywho was now visibly shaking, scrubbing his hands up and down the outsides ofhis upper arms. “One word and we’ll call it all off.”

Tats Spidey snapped his way with huge pupils.

“N-n-no. I g-got this,” he stammered.

Not convincing, pal.

“Yeah, no, we’re not doing this, everyone back up,” Peterdecided.

“NO.”

Jesus, take it easy, man. Miles was practically buried intoPeter’s side now. Tats Spidey clenched his jaw, but that didn’t really stop itfrom shaking.

“Th-this is the point. I g-gotta be scared. He-He’s scared,so I gotta be scared. Just-Just-just helpme, okay?”

He wasn’t scared, he was fucking terrified, and the longerthey stood there, the less Miles thought that it was about the basement itself.He looked to Gwen and Gwen looked to Peter, so he followed suit. Seniority andall that. Peter did not want to do this, it was written all over his face, hepulled people out of collapsed buildings, he didn’t put them under them.

“Peter, you gotta tell me right now, you’re sure,” he said.Tats Spidey pressed his lips together and gave a single nod.

“Okay, if we do this, you’re gonna have to trust us, kid.Look at me. The second you give the word, we’ll have you outta here, alright?”

Tats Spidey gave another curt nod and then dropped his headto suck in a breath.

“Knock it down,” he said.

Houses were always much sturdier than they looked. Petersaid that they had to knock out the two support columns holding up the basementto send the whole thing down. It was going to be tricky to do that withoutgetting caught in the wreckage themselves, so what they were gonna have to dowas either nominate someone to knock them out and sit with Tats Spidey downthere or take them out from the outside somehow.

Tats Spidey tried to say that he could take them outhimself, but no one even bothered to entertain the idea.

There was another way to do it though, and that was to bendthe columns just enough from the tiny basement windows so that they were notlonger able to support the weight above them. Peter said that they might beable to do that if they layered their webbing, at which point Tats Spidey spokeup and, rattling, pulled off his slingers and handed them over.

“This is—this is why Mr. Stark hired me back on,” he said,“Organic polymer webbing. Nearly as strong as steel cable, they don’t last verylong yet and they start to harden and get brittle under too much pressure, butwe’re getting up to two hours and they can old about a ton so far. Hope-hopingto use it in arc-reactor plating.”

Peter took the slingers.

“You’re gonna be just fine, kid,” he promised. Tats Spideylaughed then buried his face in his hands.

Peter handed one of the slingers to Miles. It was ahorrible, horrible feeling to know that you were about to drop a house onsomeone. Surreal, yes, but sickening, mostly. Literally. Miles’s stomachwouldn’t stop turning and squeezing.

They went back outside the house and Gwen broke one of thebasement windows on one side of the house while Peter broke one on the oppositeside. It was too dark to see Tats Spidey in the basement from where they were,but the flashlight revealed just enough of the top of the room to illuminatethe two columns holding up the basement ceiling.

Miles swallowed and tried to breathe through his nose. Histhroat hurt.

Peter called for him to throw a line of Tat’s Spidey’s webat the column closest to him and he did. It felt far bulkier than the stuff heusually used and it took a bit longer before it pulled taut. Tats Spidey hadn’tsaid a word.

“We can’t do this,” Gwen gasped softly next to Miles.

No. No, he couldn’t.

“Miles, now.”

He couldn’t—he couldn’t—

“KID, NOW.”

“MILES, DO IT,” Tats Spidey shouted.

The sound was deafening but that was nothing compared to thesudden weight of dread, guilt, horror, panic.

Gwen had dragged him back when the whole place shuddered andpulled him in close to shield his face and chest from the debris with hershoulders. It felt like the crashing would on for forever. The Spidey Sensefelt less like a hum and more like constant wave of electricity rocketing upand down his spine.

They stayed where they were until the remaining bits ofconcrete sounded more like rain than an earthquake.

There was silence underneath.

“We killed him,” Gwen whimpered once she’d raised her head.

“No,” Peter said, making his way over to them around thewreckage. “I would have felt his Spidey Sense blink out, I think he’s just un—”

Screaming.

Muffled.

But screaming, the worst kind of screaming, holy shit. Ohgod, oh god.

Nothing but dead terror in that voice.

“Peter,” he shouted involuntarily.

Oh god, he was so nice. Kind. Willing to help even though hewas scared shitless.

The screaming seemed to die off, then started anew, thendied off again.

“He can’t breathe,” Gwen hiccupped.

Miles grabbed at Peter’s suit.

“How long?” he asked. How long until they could startdigging. Until they could—

“HELP.”

Wait.

“Did you hear that?” Peter said.

Yeah. He had. That was their guy—that was Tats Spidey, buthe wasn’t—it was too loud, he was under all that rubble. He couldn’t—

“MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP.”

Peter threw himself up and held an ear over the rubble.Miles and Gwen stumbled over with him.

“PLEASE, PLEASEMAKE IT STOP.”

No, he was down there. He was just as muffled as before andMiles’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking and Gwen was crying and Peter kept pushingthem back.

“What—who—” stuttered a voice that wasn’t quite as loud.

“HELP.”

“Who’s there? Is someone there?” the voice called out.

“No way,” Peter breathed. “It worked. That’s—that’s theother Spidey.”

It was. It had to be, even though Miles had only heard himscreaming and moaning. He sounded a hoarse as hell.

“HELP,” Tats Spidey’s double voice shrieked.

“Where are you?” the no longer-dying Spidey shouted. “Whoare you? I’ll help you, I can help you—are you here with me? Where are you?”

Peter let out a slightly manic laugh.

“A fucking hero-complex. Yeah, he’s definitely one of us,”he said shakily.

“It’s okay,” the dying Spidey shouted in their ears. “It’sokay, I’ll help you! Where are you?”

Miles realized with horror that Tats Spidey had gone almostquiet—almost because he was gasping, gasping like he couldn’t get enough airright by Miles’s ear.

“I can’t—oh god, oh fuck, oh Jesus,” he finally whimperedwhen he’d more or less caught his breath.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay,” the dyingSpidey said. Something in his voice made Miles shiver again, then again andagain. He felt hands suddenly on his shoulders.

“I can help you, I’m—I’m Spiderman, I can help you,” thedying Spidey said, practically pleading. His voice got louder and softer, asthough he was moving around. “Where are you? What’s your name?”

“My-my name’s Peter,” Tats Spidey managed to grit out.

It nearly took Miles’s breath away, the fact that he’dgotten himself to a place where he could talk.

“Peter?” the dying Spidey said. “Peter what?”

“Parker,” Tats Spidey spat. “Peter Benjamin Parker. Oh god,oh god, oh fuck.”

The dying Spidey was silent. After a beat or so, Tats Spideymade a horrible fucking hiccupping noise.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. My name’s Peter, too,” thedying Spidey suddenly said, sparking back into existence. “I’m gonna help you,are you stuck here too?”

“W-what? No, I’m stuck under a fucking house god fucking help me.”

“Woah, woah, easy. Okay, a house? Where?”

“Where the fuck are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I just—I don’t know. I thought I—I was positive I—”

“MAN, I AM DYING SPIT IT THE FUCK OUT.”

“I thought I died.”

No.

Just.

No.

It couldn’t be.

“You died?” Tats Spidey asked between gasps.

“I thought I did,” the dying Spidey said in a voice thatMiles knew from the very bottom of his heart, that he’d never forget so long ashe lived. “I—a horrible man stood over me and I thought it was over. It felt likeit was over. But then I woke up and everything keeps replaying. Over and overand over and over. It won’t stop. Ican’t make it stop.”

Tats Spidey’s labored breathing was getting harsher.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “I’m sorry—I can’t anymore—I justcan’t. I’m gonna pass out—”

“No,” Peter Parker, thePeter Parker said firmly. “I’m going to save you, you’re going to be okay.Where are you?”

“We’re gonna help you,” Tats Spidey’s voice said, fadingfast.

“NO. WAIT. DON’T SLEEP, PETER,” Peter Parker shouted. “DON’TSLEEP.”

Fuck.

“PETER.”

No.

“PETER, WHERE ARE YOU? I’LL FIND YOU, I- I’LL—I can help.”

God, no.

“Please.”

That was it. That was all they needed.

Now, they needed to dig.

[aerialsquid]

Noodling Part VI: Tsukuda Gets Schooled

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Note: One more chapter to go after this unless something unthinkable happens - I’ll eventually be popping it up all up on AO3 as well, once someone’s had a chance to take a look at it for betaing.

--

Aizawa waited inside the dark supply closet for one of Might Agency's many conference rooms. Yagi was huddled next to him, hunched with his face turned away, a gesture Aizawa recognized as 'trying to hide emotion unsuitable for my public image'.

Through the crack of the door hinge he could see the main conference room door open, and a young man in a Might Agency namebadge and polo shirt escorted in Tsukuda Jidai. The man was slender, much like his daughter, and wore a suit that was as expensive as it was completely boring.

"Even with the recent setbacks, All Might's still one of our favorite clients," Tsukuda was saying with a bright but not overly amused customer-service smile. "It's always an honor to come down here and see what he's built."

The young man escorting Tsukuda chuckled. "Really, that's so kind of you to say. I'll make sure he hears that you mentioned that."

Aizawa's hand found Yagi's long fingers and briefly intertwined with them. He didn't look down, but he felt the taller man's muscles untense ever so slightly at his touch.

"I always think it's important to have heroes who show strong moral fiber and set an example for the populace. It doesn't just protect us, it inspires us to be better people."

"I couldn't agree more, Mr. Tsukuda. Would you please take a seat?"

You're making marketing deals with All Might's agency with your right hand and jerking it to him with your left hand. Nice life you've got set up for yourself, asshole.

Aizawa met Yagi's piercing blue eyes, two points of shimmering sapphire light glinting in the darkness, and gave a nod.Yagi took in as deep a breath as possible, squeezed Aizawa's hand once more, and then released it.

He twisted open the door and stepped out, bending his head slightly to get through the doorway. "Then your actions are particularly puzzling, Mr. Tsukuda!" he boomed, with all the booming he could get out of his tight chest.

"Um. What." Tsukuda's eyes drifted from Yagi's sharp, impossible to miss face to the sullen-eyed black-clad man beside him. This time, Aizawa felt no shame in basking in the panic his appearance brought.

"Creating material intended as blackmail for myself and my colleague. That's quite a villain move! Perhaps I have not been setting a good example if I led you to feel that was acceptable."

"Or perhaps he's just a very poor student," chirped the third person to emerge from the storage closet. Principal Nezu hopped up onto one of the conference room chairs and used it as leverage to clamber onto the table. He was dressed in one of his nicer sweater vests and a tasteful red tie. The soles of his loafers made little squeaks as he crossed the span of the conference table.

Tsukuda jerked back from Nezu into his plush rolling office chair, hands clamping on the armrests. "I...I have no idea what you're talking about. Ha ha! Blackmail, what? That's ridiculous. Who would blackmail you? Do you have any proof of it?"

"Not just proof, but a witness."

"What? Witness? How?"

"I think you might recognize me better like this." The young man who'd escorted Tsukuda in stood up. His fingers dug into his face and ran over his slicked-back blonde scalp, tugging flesh and hair upward until they formed All Might's shining facade and iconic antennae.

"Watashi ga kita, bitch," said Samejima with a thousand-watt grin.

"Please don't say that with my face."

"Sorry, All Might."

Mr. Tsukuda went pale. One arm wrapped around himself as he struggled for breath, surrounded by people who were experts at the glare of shame. (And Nezu, who had his own brand of 'disappointed dad' expression that was all the more painful for being on such a cute face.)

"I...I don't…" He bowed low in his seat, hugging himself tightly. "I'm so sorry, I never...I had no intention of injuring your reputation, All Might! It was a mistake, an impulse!"

"Would you offer that same apology to Aizawa?" Yagi rumbled.

"I--" He looked at Aizawa, who looked like he'd bite the man's fingers off for trying it. "It was...I had no other option! He's doing a terrible job and they wouldn't fire him! He ruined my daughter's life! There was no other way to make him pay, to make him stop before he ruined someone else."

Aizawa snorted. He stayed in place, arms folded, derisive. "Oh, don't pretend this is charity. When was the last time you even spoke to your daughter, Tsukuda?"

Tsukuda pointed accusingly at him and rolled the office chair back further. "She could have been a great hero, a famous hero, and you ruined her!"

"Do you know what the mortality rate is for heroes under thirty, Mr. Tsukuda? The suicide rate? The rate of career ending injuries? The percentage currently experiencing untreated PTSD?"

Tsukuda paused, taken aback. Aizawa didn't give him time to get in another jab.

"My job as a teacher is to make my students into functional pro heroes. Your job is to make your child into a happy, healthy adult. If I had succeeded at my job with Jiodo, you'd have failed at yours. You put the prestige of being a hero over what would make her content in life, and then you threw a hissy fit when I wasn't an accessory to it."

"She could have done it," Tsukuda hissed through gritted teeth.

"She could have. And she didn't. Deal with it like a damn adult - she's managed to."

A tiny soft paw rested on Aizawa's forearm, quieting him. Nezu, all pleasant smiles and soft edges, took another step forward. His hands came to rest behind his back.

"Do you know what I am, Mr. Tsukuda?"

Tsukuda stared at him, and rolled his chair over to put more of the table between him and Aizawa's glower. "Um. You're the principal of UA?" he offered weakly, looking Nezu up and down.

"Haha! Technically correct but no! I mean, do you know my species?"

"Your. Um. Your what?"

Nezu laughed, resting his hands on his hips. "Honestly, I'm not sure myself. There's a few different strains in me, and genetically speaking I'm really an entirely new species. Fascinating, isn't it?"

"Um. Uh. Yes, sir?"

"There was a long period where I opted to pass as a heteromorphic human, for the sake of easing my path in the world, but I have since come to a greater comfort in expressing what I am." He patted his chest with confidence. "As you might expect, dealing with people who are very concerned about their societal standing and preferred to avoid dealing even with a human who was short and furry has brought me a lot of trouble over the years.  And I do somewhat understand. I've been in your place, I've also had significant concerns with UA's curriculum and strategy in the past. Do you know what I did about it?"

"N...no?" Tsukuda clearly had no idea where this conversation was going, but was helpless to pull himself out of its flow. The teachers under his rule had learned a long time ago that it was helpless to resist when he got into a monologue.

Nezu laughed again and struck a small pose, arms raised like a company mascot. "I became the principal. Ha ha, how about that?" His arms dropped again, and he moved forward until he was nearly nose to adorable nose with Tsukuda.

"There is only so much I can do. Pro hero is a dangerous, violent job, and by necessity the training for it is rigorous. And I am, if not human, only mortal. I make mistakes, and not small ones either. But I want UA above all to be a place where our students can feel wanted and safe - because they are going to graduate into a world that is becoming more dangerous every day, and they're going to do it in a career that puts a massive target on each of their backs. For that, what I care about are teachers who have been where those students will one day be, and who can bring that wisdom to bear. Teachers who are intelligent, driven, and kind but still strict--and teachers who know when the kindest thing to do for a student is cut them down before a villain cuts them down in the field. Or worse."

Aizawa faintly remembered Nezu joking, during a staff excursion to a bar, that running UA was part of his secret long-term world domination scheme. Teach the children up right, the children become adults, the adults run the world as they were taught to do as children. Perhaps it had been meant as a joke, but there was some underlying truth to it. Nezu was dissatisfied with the world he had been birthed into and largely distrusted the humans who controlled it. Being a teacher let him, in some small way, begin to change it.

"The only reputation I'm concerned about," Nezu continued. "Is our reputation as a competent educational facility. Even if it were real footage, and even if you had made it public, there was nothing on that recording you sent us that compromises their integrity as teachers. "

That's not somehow a ringing endorsement of your porn, Samejima, thought Aizawa, shooting a brief glance at the pornographer. Stop looking proud of that statement.

"Not that you will be making it public," Yagi broke in. "If you do, our mutual acquaintance has promised to in turn make public the payments you've made to him, and the saved records of all messages sent between you. It seems you didn't stumble over a person who made this type of video by accident. A very naughty habit for a married man, Mr. Tsukuda."

Tsukuda's eyes bulged in horror. "But...he'd be exposed too! The world would know his secret!" He grabbed at his chest, as if experiencing a heart attack at the very thought of it. "He'd never be able to work again!"

"Unlike you, Mr. 'All Most' has moral standards that go beyond his need to maintain his career. He is willing to take that penalty in exchange for ensuring that truth and justice are maintained." He patted Samejima on the shoulder. Samejima's grin widened so far that the ends of it nearly met around the back of his head.

"And in exchange for such kindness, any legal repercussions for Mr. All Most due to his courageous actions will be handled by my personal legal team. I'm no expert, but I am told they are the best money can hire."

Tsukuda cowered down into himself. "I'm so, so sorry. I have always had the highest of respect for--"

"Please, no more lies. You objectified and fetishized the body that I had, but used this body to humiliate me and my coworker for petty revenge. You thought someone loving me would be humiliating for both of us. That someone loving this body would be seen as disgusting."

"I prefer skinnier men anyway. Not into the muscle look." Almost immediately, Aizawa regretted opening his mouth. He'd hoped that Tsukuda's panicked mind wouldn't be able to grasp the deeper meaning, but no such luck. Tsukda gaped at the both of them, fingers digging into his arms.

"Wait. Wait, you are. Wait. No. What?"

Eh, screw it. Aizawa kept his eyes off Yagi as he spoke, rage simmering under his veins. The horror on Tsukuda's face was like sweet, sweet necter of the gods. "You really had no idea, did you? The most terrible, shameful fate you could come up with was the truth. What a small, petty man you are. I can't imagine such a life, focused on rigid societal goals...if I gave a damn about that, I wouldn't be where I am now."

Tsukuda looked to Nezu for support, expecting the principal to share his horror, but found no solace. In desperation he looked to Samejima (why he thought there'd be sympathy there was anyone's guess) but saw only giddy glee on the man's rubbery face. Then, reluctantly, he looked to Yagi.

Yagi was smiling. Not with that big, All Might trademarked grin that was plastered on at least one poster in every room of the building, but a gentle, nostalgic smile that softened his angular features. For a moment, he was looking at Aizawa as if Aizawa was the only man in the room who could see him.

"And I count myself lucky that he didn't."

[killervibe]

Lux et Veritas

Chapter 1: Cisco and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Read Prologue here 

Everything was always immaculate here, Cisco thought. How the walls and floors were shining white and polished. The state of the art equipment expensive in a way that had him skittish to touch the first few weeks, afraid of being scolded for using them.

He never was.

The people around him were too busy to take his notice, in their white coats and pencil skirts with heels bustling around him, all doing their jobs, just like Cisco was doing his. And how nice, he thought, getting to do this for real, some day.

Cisco was busy scribbling his signature on the papers, finalizing his last report after the data entry he finished. The lab was near empty, and he glanced around it, committing all the details to memory. He had taken to this lab from the very moment he had been assigned to the department, it had served well this summer as a quiet safe space, a home away from home.

Immersed in his paperwork, Cisco missed the mechanic swish of the automated glass door sliding open, not realizing he had company until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He smiled up at his supervisor, The Dr. Wells. It’s been three months and he still couldn’t believe it.

“Well, it’s three-thirty. You’re done. How does it feel?”

Cisco let go of his pen and sighed wistfully. “Honestly, Sir. Kinda down. I really like it here.”

“I’m glad. You were excellent to work with. I’ve already drafted a glowing recommendation for wherever you choose to pursue your higher education.”

A flush came to his face, and Cisco glanced aside, shy from the praise. 

“Thank you, Dr. Wells.”

“No, thank you. Where are you wanting to go to school?”

Cisco opened his mouth to reply when Tess Morgan sidled up to Dr. Wells’s side.

He wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist and she clucked her tongue. “Don’t stress him, Harrison. He still has plenty of time to decide.”

“Well, my girlfriend and I were always planning for an Ivy,” Cisco said. “But I’d also take MIT or Caltech.”

“Engineering, I hope.”

“Yessir.”

Cisco stood up, unclipping his ID. School started tomorrow. Somehow swapping his Star Labs keycard for his old library pass was kind of depressing.

He looked down at it, his laminated card, the serial number they gave him. The picture he had taken on his first day, how he was pretty sure he blinked and yet it still turned out better than any framed Picture Day photograph hanging on the walls at home.

He felt important here. Like he belonged, like someone finally (finally) looked at him and went Yes, you. We like you. You’re good.

Cisco knew he was good, in the back of his mind, front of his mind, whatever. His GPA said so. His report cards said so. Barry said so (Hartley didn't, but who cared about him). Caitlin used to say so. He felt he was good.

Cisco hoped he was good, but was he really? Enough?

Probably not. And still, this taste of a dream, of his future that he so desperately wants to live now already is enough to motivate him to work harder to get it again. Permanently, next time. With his own lab and a desk with his name on it. A degree, a couple of them, with his name in latin script hanging nearby next to a window.

Hold your horses, he told himself. He needed to graduate high school first.

Cisco gave up his ID, handing it to Dr. Wells.

Dr. Wells looked down at the badge, but didn’t say anything for a while.

Tess grinned, “Oh stop with the suspense, look how sad the boy is, just tell him already.”

“What?” Cisco asked, looking back and forth between the scientist and his wife, unfollowing.

“The thing is, Mr. Ramon,” Dr. Wells began, returning the ID, “I’m not sure I want this back. Because the truth is, I’ve grown quite fond of you. And Tess and I were wondering if you’d like to continue shadowing at Star Labs during the Fall. Say, twice a week after school?”

Cisco’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “You want me to stay?!”

“We’d love to have you, Cisco,” Tess finished, beaming. “What do you say?”

“—I’d have to ask my parents,” he said immediately, and he winced at how juvenile that sounded but was relieved to see the two nod in agreement, “But that would be the best thing I’ve heard all summer.”

“Come back sometime next week, schedule an appointment and we can discuss contracts with a legal consultant, and a guardian of course.”

“Thank you so much!”

Dr. Wells shook his head, shooing him out. “Go. Enjoy your last day of summer vacation.”

~.~

Cisco was on cloud nine when he parked Dante’s car in the guest garage of Caitlin’s estate, bouncing on his heels in the elevator.

He fired off a quick text to tell her he made it in, then bounded for her library where he knew she would be memorizing the course outlines for tomorrow’s schedule. He creeped up behind her where she was reading silently at her desk, still a little off guard at all the tin-foil silver in her hair.

He covered her eyes, kissing her cheek and she dropped her pen. “Guess who?” he murmured.

Cisco removed his hands and she turned her head over her shoulder. “Hi.” Her eyes shined bright and soft, blinking at him with easy cheer. He couldn’t keep it in any longer, the news near busting inside him as he rubbed up and down her bare arms excitedly.

“Guess who’s boyfriend just got offered a Fall placement at Star Labs?”

Caitlin gaped, turning around. “Mine?”

“Yours! And Dr. Wells said he already wrote me a letter of recommendation for college!”

Caitlin squeezed his hand. “That’s amazing, oh my gosh! You deserve it!”

He shared her smile, pulling her up from the chair, and turning on the lights. Why she kept herself hidden in the dark alcove with only a window was beyond him when her house was equipped with the best green energy efficient systems on the market.

Her words spread a warmth in his chest and he wanted to believe them, but still, doubt creeped into his mind. His fingers skimmed over her dark wooden desk, focusing on rearranging her gel pens.

“Do you think so, really? All I was doing was writing notes and doing small lab assignments.”

Caitlin folded her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Stop selling yourself so short. You’re the smartest person I know.”

He looked up at her. "You're not just saying that because I'm your boyfriend so you kinda have to, but really, secretly, like deep down next your dark chocolate obsession you think Lily Stein the smartest?"

Caitlin laughed, swatting his arm like that would smack the silliness out of his head. "I am not obsessed with dark chocolate!"

"Sure you're not," he countered, eyes crinkling when she pressed a kiss to his cheek to distract him from checking her waste paper basket to prove his point.

"Lily's intelligent. Hartley's sharp. But you're my favourite smartypants," she said.

Cisco smirked a little, “You think Hartley got the same offer? Bet he didn’t.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes at Cisco’s ongoing battle with his nemesis, choosing not to comment. “We should celebrate.”

“We should,” he enthused, offering her his arm. She took it, looking at him expectantly. “How about dinner?”

~.~

After food, Cisco took Caitlin to the little dessert shop that overlooked the river. They shared cheesecake and Sprite, clinking each other’s forks.

Caitlin kept looking over at the water, quiet.

She’d been like that, lately, off and on. Like she'd fall into moods where she was afraid to talk.

“Is everything okay?”

She took a moment to respond, scraping cheesecake off the plate. “Fine.”

He gave her a look. Maybe there were things that changed between them. But Cisco will never lose the skill of knowing when she lied. And Caitlin knew that too.

“I’m just—Worried. About school.”

“You love school.”

“I love learning,” she corrected, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t love CC High. Not anymore.”

“That’s fair.”

“I’ve been dreaming about this year since middle school. Starting it with you and applying to college. I’ve wanted to be a doctor for so long. What if I don’t get into a good school?”

Cisco held his tongue. There was zero chance that Caitlin would be rejected from any university, and, to be frank, there was nothing her mother’s money couldn’t buy. She was a shoo in, has been since Freshman year to all the good schools. And even if she weren't a phenomenal student, legacy alone would admit Caitlin into every college her mother’s research was affiliated with.

He thought about Tess Morgan, and echoed her sentiment. “Isn’t it a little early?”

Caitlin looked out at the water again.

He wondered if her mother was pressuring her. He wouldn't be surprised, school was ramping up soon and with that came a tremendous amount of stress after years of all talk. Maybe Dr. T had finally laid down the law, and it was daunting. Cisco assumed it would be, considering the pressure he put on himself, and he didn't even have anyone counting on him to make it. At least, not until he met the Wells family, and their encouragement had never been coercive. Maybe coercive wasn't the right word. Caitlin's mom was...Intense.

“...Is this about Star Labs? Because I can put in a good word about you with Dr. Wells or help you find—“

He watched Caitlin’s face fall, rushing to deny it. “No, no no. It’s not that. I promise. I don’t mind. You don’t have to do that. I just—I left such a mess.”

Cisco reflected on the past year. She was not wrong. But it was not all her fault.

She gave him a sad smile, “I just wish things didn’t have to change.”

Cisco frowned, sensing she was talking about something a little beyond high school. “They don’t. You’re my forever, Caitlin. Nothing has to change, I’m right here.”

She blinked back tears, shrugging. “I just miss...” she went to her locket. The one she’s never taken off since the funeral. The one with his picture in it, hiding under her dad’s.

His face softened as it clicked. He should've known.

He took her hand, kissing it softly.

“I know.”

~.~

Cisco had a Pop-Tart hanging out of his mouth as he dumped all of his things into his old school bag. He ran a brush through his hair a few times, threw on a light jean jacket, and slung the bag over his shoulder. He bit off another gooey piece before banging on the bathroom door.

“Dante, dios!” he shouted over the loud rush of water. He’s been in there for half an hour already.

“The bathroom! I have to go!”

His mom’s voice called from downstairs. “Deja entrar a tu hermano!”

He rattled on the doorknob, but it was locked. He swore under his breath again, checking his watch. “Dude!”

“Bro, calm down, what the fuck,” Dante groused, unlocking the door with a towel around his waist. The steam went billowing out and Cisco almost choked on the intensity of the deodorant spray.

He pushed past Dante, muttering, going for his toothbrush. He paused before sticking it in his mouth with the toothpaste. “Aren’t you late? Don’t you have an 8:30 class?”

His brother rolled his eyes. “Chill. I’m skipping.”

Cisco’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, spitting into the sink.

“You’re skipping?”

Dante rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, you’re such a nerd. It’s not like high school, dumbass. Everyone skips class in college.”

“Is it recorded?”

“No.”

“Do you have friends in your class to take notes from?”

“No.”

“Are you going to work on another class instead?”

“No. I’m going to watch Netflix then probably take another nap before practice with the band.”

Cisco ran his hand through his nicely done hair. “Dante, I don’t understand you.”

Dante walked across the hall to their shared room, pulling on clothes.

“Don’t worry about it. Have a nice day at school. Kiss all the teacher’s asses for me.”

Cisco pulled himself together, breathing in deeply, reminding himself that he loved his brother and wasn’t allowed to smack him while he glared.

“Can I use your car?” he gritted between his teeth as Dante shuffled his hair some, ruining it altogether.

Dante waved him off. “I don’t use that crap anymore. It might as well be yours.”

He was already texting Caitlin that he was coming to pick her up, his eyes glued to his phone as he walked out the front door when his mother pulled him back by the strap of his backpack.

She kissed both his cheeks, pushing a sandwich into his hands. “Don’t break that attendance record. Give Caitlin a kiss for me.”

“Si,” he replied, waving goodbye at his little sister shrieking his name before he jogged down the apartment steps, not bothering to wait for the elevator.

Why’d his place always have to be so hectic?

~.~

Caitlin kissed him after she slammed the car door close, buckling in her seatbelt, grumbling under her breath.

"Mom troubles?"

"Just drive."

Cisco looked in the rearview mirror as he put the Toyota in reverse.

It was windy in a nice crisp September morning way, and Caitlin rolled down the window.

“You look cute,” he said as he drove off her estate.

Caitlin shrugged, “I wear a blazer every first day. It’s tradition.”

“I’ve noticed.”

It fell quiet. Caitlin wasn’t much of a morning person, and it was the first day of the scariest school year they’d face yet. There was too much going on in their minds for riveting conversations.

Cisco took a swig of water at a red light ten minutes later, stuck in the morning rush hour. He swished it in his mouth then swallowed.

“So I was thinking—”

“I was wondering—”

They both stopped.

“You go first,” Caitlin said.

“I was thinking that maybe you should talk to Barry before the bell. Just to get a fresh start. I can come with you.”

Caitlin curled her fingers around her designer bag, some big brand fashion company with lots of consonants like X and Z’s that Cisco could never remember.

“I don’t want to."

Cisco frowned. “But why? Barry isn’t mad at you, Caitlin. He just wants you to come back. He’s our best friend.”

She put her hand on his arm.

“You’re my best friend. You’re the only one I need.”

“So what, I’m stuck in the middle now? Homeroom to lunch with Barry, fourth period to final bell with you? How is that fair?”

“Actually,” she said. “I was thinking maybe we don’t make that big of a deal of it? Like, do people even need to know that we’re together again? Look what happened last time.”

Cisco narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like where this was going. “Caitlin. Everybody loves you. Nobody really loves me. This has already been established after what happened in April. Why does it matter anymore?”

She hesitated, tapping her fingers against the arm rest, leaning her head against the window. “I don’t want you to be a target again.”

“I don’t care,” Cisco said. “It’s just high school crap. I’m hoping we all got it out of our systems junior year. I haven’t kissed you in the hallway for how many months?”

Caitlin smiled down at her lap. “Six.”

Cisco made a disgruntled noise. “Six and a half, actually, but who’s counting?”

“Not me,” she lied.

They shared a glance.

“That’s too long. I’m not letting shitty people with nothing better to do stop me and neither should you.”

“Okay.”

She leaned over and kissed him quickly, then told him the light was green.

~.~

They had four classes together, but not homeroom, so Caitlin and Cisco split ways early on in the morning.

The bell rang, and Professor Stein cleared his throat.

“Welcome students to a bright academic year ahead!”

The class groaned, and Cisco shared an amused glance with Iris.

She leaned in, “Why does he say that every year?”

Cisco grimaced. “Fourth time’s the charm?”

Professor Stein told everyone to settle down as he took attendance, handed out the dozens of photocopied papers that needed their parents’ signatures and read the announcements. Soon enough, the bell rang, and they all got up to get to their first classes of the day.

Iris strapped her messenger bag over her shoulder. She wasn’t in the science stream, so this would be their only time together until humanities and AP English, which they didn’t have today.  

“See you at lunch?”

“Yeah,” he said, then thought of something. “Can you keep an eye out for Caitlin? I’m just—Not sure what she’s thinking she’s going to do.”

“You mean with Lexi.”

He quirked an eyebrow. Students were starting to come in, so Cisco hurried out, grabbing Iris by the hand as the hallways started to flood. “You don’t like her either.”

Iris laughed callously, and they walked to their lockers. “Hell no.”

“Oh thank god,” he breathed, trying to keep up with her quick pace. “I just don’t understand why she won't try to fix things. You haven’t said anything to her, have you? You two aren't fighting?”

Cisco watched Iris hang her coat up. “No,” she said. “Fighting? We're not even talking. Don’t get me wrong. I was pissed last year. What she did was awful.”

He felt the need to defend her, when he knew he probably shouldn’t. Iris must’ve saw the look on his face and rolled her eyes.

“No need to get all Caitlin Snow protection squad on me. I don’t hold grudges like that. I came to the funeral, didn’t I?”

Patty and Linda showed up, tugging Iris away. “Hey, gotta jet, but I’ll try, okay? I’ll do some digging for you. Shawna’s pretty easy to squeeze.”

Cisco wanted to thank her, but she was too far gone, giggling with her friends.

He sighed, standing in the middle of the hall. Without even a second longer to breathe, Jake Puckett barged into him. “Watch it, mosquito.”

“We’re back to that, Jake? Really?” Cisco yelled after him, still getting jostled as the crowd of students thickened in the tight corridor.

Puckett continued his taunting. “You look like a girl. Why don’t you get a haircut?”

“Maybe my girl likes it long dipshit,” he shot back. “Not like you’d know what that’s like.”

That sent Cisco flying into the lockers.

“I deserved that one,” he muttered to himself, trying not to wince at the way the metal hinges dug into his back. He dropped his folder when he hit the wall, his green permission slips about emergency contact information and school behavioural contracts now getting stepped on by careless idiots he called classmates.

He darted between people in the crowd to get them back, annoyed that nobody cared to help him. Then, annoyed that he expected this shit to change now that he was a Senior in the first place.

Just one more year. One more year, Cisco uttered under his breath like a mantra, falling into his ethics class’ front row seat just on time.

Their teacher started sprouting some stupid idea about going around and introducing themselves, as if everybody hasn’t already known each other since elementary.

“Hi? Um, my name is Brie Larvan. And I want to be a beekeeper.”

Cisco rubbed his temples, his mantra intensified.

~.~

By lunch, Cisco was waiting by Caitlin’s locker.

He saw her walk out of history with Lexi and Shawna. She paused at seeing him, her eyes going a little wide.

“Cisco, what are you doing?” she said, looking nervously at Lexi and Shawna, who had their arms crossed with identical bitch faces.

“Lunch?”

“Like, disappear mosquito. She doesn’t want lunch with you.”

Caitlin frowned, opening her locker. She put a new textbook into a top shelf and grabbed her lunch box. “We don't call my boyfriend that. Yes, I do want lunch with him.”

She took Cisco’s hand, and he rose an eyebrow at Shawna, a smidge too smug.

“Sorry ladies, later.”

"Your boyfriend?"  Shawna repeated, jaw dropping open.

Lexi gasped. “Caity!”

He felt her tension just by the way she held his hand. “I’ll see you in class, I’m still sitting next to you in art, just like we promised, right?”

Lexi’s smile looked a little off kilter. “Of course. Right. See you there, then. Have fun with...Cisco.”

Cisco, who had been trying to look anywhere but Lexi, eventually met her gaze.

She gave him a look, sucking lipstick off her teeth. It sent a chill down his spine, and he had forgotten (really, no, he hasn't, he really hasn't) how much he hated her.

She arched an eyebrow high in the air, like she was challenging him to acknowledge her. But Cisco didn't play her games.

He pulled Caitlin away, lacing their fingers together.

~.~

Cisco let Caitlin drag him far from Barry’s table without putting up a fight. In fact, they weren’t even eating in the cafeteria. They sat in the courtyard, watching the soccer team tryouts as Caitlin opened her packed box from her chef.

It was a nice day. Caitlin really did look gorgeous in her burgundy blazer and pleated skirt. It suited her, that classy uniform chic, and for the first time a thought occurred to him that struck odd. Caitlin belonged in a private school. One with 4.0 cut-offs, loads of legacy families, and a hundred thousand dollars for tuition. Dr. T letting her daughter stay in Central City to go to public school was a bit weird. She didn’t really belong here.

Cisco picked at dandelions as they talked, wondering why the grass was so unkept.

About twenty minutes in, Caitlin gave him a sly look.

Cisco looked up from his lunch, knowing that expression all too well. “If you’re going to kiss me, please let me finish my chicken first or else I never will, and I’m really hungry.”

She ignored him completely, prying the plastic container out of his hands. “Hey missy, I said I wasn’t— Mmmph!”

He missed this. He missed her. This Caitlin. His Caitlin.

It was like all the darkness swarming underneath her surface dissipated, and her true light was shining through.

He laughed as she climbed into his lap to kiss him more. They could get demerit points for this, and that heightened the sense of thrill. If they got caught it would be so worth it.

A shrill whistle pierced through the air and the two sprang apart. There was a foul on the soccer field.

“Still hungry?” she smirked with mirth, wiping the rest of her smudged lip gloss off.  

He played with her silvery hair. “Um, yes,” he flirted, catching Caitlin’s heated gaze. “Famished.”

“Good thing I’m here then,” she murmured.

“Yes,” he agreed, inching closer. “Very good,” and slipped his tongue in her mouth.

They made out until the bell.

~.~  

Outside was beautiful and peaceful. Cisco started to understand why Caitlin brought him out there.

“Oh my god, Caitlin! Over here!” Lisa shouted at the door, gesturing wildly at her to come back into the side entrance of school. “Hi Cisco!”

“Hey Lisa.”

Lisa Snart. She was something else, that one. Cute, in a dumb like a rock kind of way.

Maybe that was mean.

Lexi appeared over Lisa’s shoulder. "Come on, Caitlin! We’re going to be late!”

He got up with a sigh, and gave his girlfriend a hand. She took it, hers slender and soft in his, and didn’t let go.

They began walking towards Caitlin’s new posse.

“Why are they so possessive? It’s unnerving,” he couldn’t help but blurt out.

“It’s not me. It’s you. They think—”

“I know what they think,” he snapped, cross. As did everybody, no doubt. Cisco kicked at a littered soda can. “Tell them I didn’t.”

“I tried! They won’t believe me!”

“Then ditch them. It’s not that hard.”

She turned to him sympathetically, kissing him one last time.

“I can’t, Cisco. They’re my friends. I like them.” She untangled their fingers.

“No, you don’t.”

“I do,” she insisted. “Stop saying things as if you’re me. I’m me. If they’re my friends then I’m not lying and you have to understand that.”

Cisco felt properly chastened. He took a step back, quiet. “Okay.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you later.”

Lisa and Lexi took to each of Caitlin’s sides, linking their arms together. Only Lisa looked back.

~.~

“Where were you? You dipped lunch. Iris said you’d be there.”

It was the second to last period of the day, and it just had to be gym, didn’t it?

Cisco ducked at the incoming fire of dodgeballs. “Yeah, sorry. Caitlin wanted to eat outside.”

A ball rolled to a stop beside him. He picked it up and chucked it, barely getting it past the midline.

The one class he and Barry weren’t good at. So what.

“You mean she didn’t want to eat with me.”

Cisco stopped, looking around. His team was going to lose no matter what.

“I think she’s just really embarrassed. Give her some time.”  

“Time?” Barry exclaimed, nearly getting hit in the face. “It’s been almost half a year! I miss her so bad. She’s in my geography class and she sat next to Bad Luck Becky instead of me.”

“Dude, watch out!”

“Huh?” Barry spun around in the wrong direction, and Cisco cringed as Barry got hit in the back by Woodworth, officially out.

Cisco followed him to the bench, not caring to even pretend he was playing anymore.

“What’s her deal?”

Cisco wrung his hands. “I don’t know. Her dad, I think. It shook her hard, and we weren’t there for her.”

Barry’s fingers were calming on his shoulder, unlike Dante’s, and different from Armando’s.

“Don’t beat yourself up about that. She pushed us away.”

It was easy for Barry to say that. Barry the best friend, their happy third wheel. It wasn’t the same for Cisco. Cisco, who had offered to pick Caitlin up when she fell down the slide in the first grade, who she had won the regional science fair with in grade 3, who she first told when they were ten that her dad was sick, really sick, and I really need a hug.

Barry was always there and supportive and the best friend, but he had Iris. Before him came Cisco and Caitlin. They were a duo, a package deal, each other’s forever.

Even if she pushed him away, even if she hurt him. She never meant to, just as hurt and twice as lonely.

“She needed me and I wasn’t there until it was too late. Now she doesn’t know who to trust.”

Barry reached for his water bottle, taking a long sip.

“So she trusts LaRoche? She knows what she did to you, doesn’t she?”

It was humiliating just thinking about it.

Cisco shook his head. “She only knows that I tutored her for the SATs.”

Three thumps on the back was what it took for Barry to stop coughing, spluttering water everywhere.

“You need to tell Caitlin. ”

“No. Drop it. And don’t tell Iris either.”

“But—”

Coach Adam’s bullhorn blew sharply, interrupting them both.

“— Allen! Back on the court! Don’t make me give you another C!”

~.~

The last class of the day was math with Professor Stein. Cisco had it with Caitlin, and they sat in the front row, scribbling notes furiously to keep up with their teacher’s enthusiastic ramblings. When the final bell rang, Professor Stein called them both to stay behind.

“I’ve got something for my 4.0 lovebirds.”

He leaned behind his desk for two thick envelopes and deposited one in each one's hands.

Caitlin tore hers open quickly, curiosity getting to the best of her. A stack of viewbooks from prestigious schools were freshly pressed, smelling like new paper.

“Straight from the guidance counsellor's office. They’re not yet out on rotation, you see, but I figured my overachieving students wanted a first peak.”

“Oh wow,” Caitlin replied, already looking into the Harvard one. “These have the updated statistics.”

“Of course, my dear.”

Cisco leafed through the schools in his selection, pausing at MIT, eyes lingering on rolling green hills of its campus.

Professor Stein pointed at Cisco. “And how was your internship at Star Labs?”

“The greatest. They want me to continue twice after school.”

“Really now? That’s quite remarkable.”

“Isn’t it?” Caitlin smiled, proud of him. Cisco blushed. “I told him so.”

There was a knock at the door, and Shawna appeared. “Caitlin we need you right now. It’s an emergency.”

Caitlin looked to Cisco.

“I thought I was driving you home. We could look at these together.”

“We really need you, Caity. Becky’s crying. I can drive you home.”

“Tomorrow,” Caitlin promised, squeezing his shoulder, then thanked Professor Stein again for the viewbooks.

Cisco tugged on her blazer for a goodbye kiss, reluctant to let her go. She leaned in, her fingers delicate on his face, smiling against his lips.

Shawna stomped a little, rolling her eyes, “Can we go?”

“One minute,” Caitlin said, looking into his eyes. “We’ll go over our favourite schools tomorrow?”

He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards. “It’s a date.”

She grabbed her bag and the envelope, then followed Shawna out the door.

Cisco watched Caitlin scurry after Shawna, who was stomping away in her spiked combat boots.

“I’m glad that whatever squabble you two had seems to be put behind you.”

Cisco turned to their teacher, unashamed that he witnessed him smitten.

“Me too.”

Professor Stein had always been perceptive and easily approachable. Cisco had gone to him in times of trouble in the past four years plenty.

Cisco sat on a desk as Professor Stein tidied up, reflecting. “Sir, how do you help someone through grief?”

His teacher took off his glasses, cleaning them with the edge of his shirt before he responded. “This is about the passing of Dr. Snow?”

Everyone knew. He supposed they had to, not only because Caitlin’s dad had been an active donor and contributor to the restructuring of Central City High’s science stream, but because Cisco guessed it was required for her teachers to take special attention.

“She’s just not the same.”

“She won’t be,” he advised, firm yet gentle. “She lost one of the most important figures in her life.”

The only figure, Cisco thought bitterly, thinking about Dr. T’s suspicious absence in Caitlin’s life. It always made him scratch his head, how two people who lived in the same house could avoid and ignore each other for so long.

If Cisco could avoid Dante, he would.

Maybe it was a matter of the size of the house.

“I want to be there for her, but sometimes I feel like she’s pushing me away. Do I give her that space? Should I be persistent? Love is hard,” Cisco groaned after his monologue, flopping against the row of desks as if he were in a therapist’s office, not his math class. His teacher chuckled at him.

“Ah, but is your affection for Miss Snow difficult to muster? It takes effort for you to demonstrate your care?”

“No,” Cisco protested. “No, that’s easy.”

Professor Stein tapped on his shoes, asking him to get them off the desks.

Cisco's legs swung over the side obediently, and he sat back up.

Professor Stein tilted his head, and Cisco was alarmed to realize how his favourite teacher’s hair was beginning to grey. 

Maybe that’s what made him stand out. After teaching as a professor and publishing his books, he came back to a high school to teach kids because he cared about them. Cisco didn't think he could do that. Lily was really lucky to have him as a dad.

“I know you love her Mr. Ramon. Patience is virtue. You’re astute for a young man of your age. Show her that love the best you can.”

That sounded about right.

“Yessir.”

“Now go home, enjoy those viewbooks.”

Cisco tucked the envelope under his arm, and took his advice.

~.~

Cisco was leafing through the glossy pages of Duke’s viewbook at the kitchen table, trying to concentrate through the constant keyboard banging leaking through the adjacent wall. He wasn’t allowed to ask Dante to be quiet, not even when he had to study and it was one of his pet peeves.

Don’t disturb him, Mama would always say, but his keyboard had an ear jack? Cisco had bought Dante a good quality headset a year and a half ago, thinking it would be a great gift to them both. 

Dante didn’t use them, Cisco bet the wrapping was still on the box, buried somewhere in their closet considering he’s never seen them and it’s not like their room was very big. So who was the one really being unnecessarily disturbed? 

How their neighbours haven't come pounding on their front door yet begging for silence was a mystery to him.

He was just getting into the gritty details of the application requirements when Rosita peered up at him on her tiptoes. Her ten little fingers gripped the table, eyes barely making it past the edge as she pushed herself up to see what Cisco was looking at.

“What are you doing?”

“Leyendo,” he said absentmindedly, showing her the bright graphs. She didn’t reply, and he looked down, how she had zero reaction, then forgot she was still fuzzy on verbs. Forgot that she couldn’t even read yet.

“Reading,” he translated. “For college. See? This is in North Carolina.”

“You’re leaving?” her voice wobbles, thick with hurt. “Like ‘Mando?”

Armando’s been gone at Cleveland State for two years, majoring in business. Cisco’s surprised sometimes that Ro even remembers their oldest brother.

“Not right away. But next year, yeah.”

Cisco didn’t see the big deal. He felt Rosita was pretty lucky, getting the apartment practically to herself. Cisco would have loved to be left alone growing up, not constantly stuck rubbing shoulders with the six people crammed into their three bedroom apartment with nowhere to breathe. But Caitlin and Barry both said growing up as an only child was lonely, wishing for siblings. Cisco wouldn’t know.

“Why?”

“Because I want to go to school, like the one you’re going to start tomorrow,” he explained. He glanced down at the entrance requirements and chuckled at his own analogy. “Except this isn’t kindergarten.”

There was just enough room for Rosita to squeeze onto his seat. He patted the space, and she climbed up with a little "oof” until their thighs were pressed together.

He read to her what was on the page just to keep her busy. It was the pictures she was interested in anyways.

“Where’s Mama?” he asked after a while. They had moved on from Duke to Stanford. Their dad still wasn’t home from work either, but he wouldn’t be, he usually wasn’t at this time.

Rosita shrugged her shoulders and Cisco rolled his eyes at himself, wondering why he expected the five year old of the house to have all the answers.

He slid off the chair, noticing the way she was droopy, her messy black curly hair spilling against the table as she leaned her head against it. 

“Did you have a snack?”

She rolled her head from side to side with a whine. Cisco took that for a no.

He pulled out a fruit roll-up from the kitchen, ignoring Caitlin’s voice in the back of his head warning about high fructose.

After seeing to it that she’s good with opening the wrapper, Cisco knocked loudly on the doorframe of his and Dante’s room. “Where’s Mama?”

Dante kept playing, ignoring him. Cisco marched right over to the outlet and unplugged the keyboard.

“Hey!”

“Yo Beethoven. Were you supposed to be taking care of Rosita? Because I came home to her climbing the curtains, Dante.”

His brother waved him off, “She’s fine.”

“She was hungry.”

Dante glanced up at the clock on the wall.

“Mama went grocery shopping. We’re going to have dinner soon anyways.”

“Not for another few hours, I wasn’t supposed to be home this early. You can’t leave her alone like that she’s too young, and Mama expects us watch her!”

Dante banged his fist against the quiet keys, and Cisco had to keep a straight face at how that looked. “Stop fucking lecturing me, I’m older than you!”

“By a year,” Cisco scoffed. “Don’t go on about being 18 if you won’t even act like an adult.”

“Yeah, because you want to be an adult so bad, Cisco, don’t you? It’s just a number it doesn’t make you older.”

Not for the first time, Cisco found himself missing Armando. Things were easier with Dante when he was around, how he was practical like Dante yet level-minded like himself.

The door slammed loud behind him, frustrated. Dante was Dante. What was he to do? At least he got his car.

Cisco took his stack of books to the living room, wiping off Rosita’s sticky fingerprints from off the Stanford cover and got really interested in Harvard’s crimson booklet.

By dinner, he was excited, sprouting out campus facts as his dad asked to pass the bowl of vegetables.

Rosita kicked her legs in her seat beside him, happily munching away on the roast beef.

“Dude, just. Shut up,” Dante said with his mouth full after Cisco went on a, self-admitting, spiel about Stanford’s aeronautics engineering program.

Cisco narrowed his eyes, defending himself. “I have to apply by November for early admissions. That's two months away. We're talking about my future here.”

His mom and dad shared a look, one Cisco couldn’t decipher. He put his fork down, sensing dread.

“What? I told you, my SAT scores are really high. Maybe not Harvard okay, but MIT, UPenn, I think I have a real shot.”

It went quiet, it was uncomfortable and Cisco felt nervous, like he was the butt of a big joke.

“What?”

“Get that Ivy League crap out of your head, we can’t afford it.”

His mother gasped, hitting his father’s arm.

Cisco looked to Dante, who had his glass paused halfway to his lips.

“What Papa means is we know you talk big plans with tu novia, but where will the money for that come from?”

The words were faint, Cisco feeling a rush in his ears as his mind began to race, trying to compute. "Mama, I don't understand.”

“Those schools sound very expensive, Cisco.”

This couldn’t be happening, he pushed his plate away, sick to his stomach.  “Two years ago you said you had money put away for me.”

“That was before Dante changed his mind about CCU music. And it was never going to be enough for what you’re talking about. We were already tight with Armando’s tuition.”

Dante coughed, nearly choking on the food, startled. “Mama,” he gaped, after a giant swallow of water. “¿Su dinero?”

“He is older, Cisco,” his dad replied, and it was condescending, felt cold like ice down Cisco’s back. “If you want a fancy college you’ll need a job, maybe two. You might have good grades for CC High, but for a full scholarship where everyone is smart? Be realistic, Mijo.”

Cisco’s eyes were stinging, blurring as the weight of their words washed over him, and he was so unprepared, so unbalanced to hear that news, it knocked him over, and now he felt like was going to drown.

"You don't think I'm good enough?"

"That's not what we're saying," his mother corrected, "But we do believe your aspirations are out of tune."

Out of tune. Giving all his college money away to his ungrateful brother, permitting him to Netflix in his room under the guise of studying composition, was out of tune.

He stood up abruptly, not able to stomach any more.

“You used my money on Dante? Dante? Who doesn’t even show up for school? Have I not been clear since I was twelve how much I wanted this?”  

Rosita burst into tears at the volume of his voice, covering her ears. His mother ran to Rosita.

It wasn’t Rosita’s fault. It wasn’t. She was just a child. She was little, but somehow the way his mother ran to her and picked her up adoringly, soothing her whimpering was the last straw, twisting something in Cisco until it bent and snapped.

“You care for everyone in this house but me!”

“Francisco.”

“It’s true!” he cried, and maybe it wasn't, but his world was imploding, and this wasn't his fault, Cisco didn't do anything to deserve this.

He swiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his jean jacket, furious, “You never listen, you never care, you don’t know anything about what I want or am going through, even when I say it. It’s all about Dante or Rosita. You didn’t even care that I was chosen for Star Labs’ internship, how big of an accomplishment that was for me. Or that Caitlin’s papa died!”

“You were at Star Labs?” his father questioned, sliding his glasses up his nose. “Dante did you know this?”

His mother tore her gaze from his sister, stunned. “Dr. Snow?”

Even his parents were out of tune with each other. Out of tune, they said about him going to an Ivy, about becoming an engineer, he still processing it, outraged. Cisco wanted to throw up.

Dante spoke up. “Papa of course I knew he wouldn’t shut up about it. He was gone every day.”

Dante was defending him for once, probably guilty, and he should be, Cisco thought, but that wasn't enough.

He was on a roll, unable to stop yelling, “Armando got everything he wanted! Dante gets anything he asks for, no questions! A motorcycle, he goes and you're all oh, sure Dante, here you go, only pay half. Then he says, Haha surprise, I want to go to college after all, and so you go sure, let us deplete our youngest son's college funds!"

Even Rosita quieted, staring at Cisco.

"What?" she said, voice full of innocence.

His face crumpled, but he refused to break in front of them. "I worked so damn hard, and I get nothing?”

“It is not nothing,” his father scolded in Spanish. “CCU is a fine school, Francisco. You are just prejudiced. Caitlin is a fine girl, but her privilege has gone to your head.”

“That’s not true,” Cisco snapped back, switching languages smoothly. “This has nothing to do with Caitlin. Mama, tell him.”

She lowered her gaze, fussing again with Rosita’s plate, without replying.

His parents’ quietness was all the confirmation Cisco needed. A dark chuckle, more like a huff from a pushed out exhale escaped him, and he shook his head.  

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, looking at the faces of his family. He didn’t even want to be here anymore.

“Well, since I got your attention,” he spat, “I was offered a placement at Star Labs for the Fall for after school. I need a parent to sign the contract with me.”

“¿Se paga?” Is it paid? Mama said.

After all that.

Cisco choked on his answer, already imagining what they were going to say. “No.”

“You’ll have to choose then, what you want more.”

Was this what it felt like? To see his entire future hanging by a thin, loose, unravelling thread? Cisco shouldn’t have to choose. Star Labs was his ticket out of here. Out of this mess, the one outstanding point on his application which would give him those scholarships, that admission.

But his parents didn't understand, and they won't.

And that's what was worse. It was not the lack of money, or that they gave it to Dante (even though that cut deep, and Cisco wasn't quite sure it was something he could ever forgive). He knew that they weren't wealthy, that they were four kids and still not even in a house. But they made it work for their children, set up this illusion, this fake fantasy land Cisco had been living in for years and watched him entangle himself deeply there, plant roots in it, and still never bothered to come clean and correct him.

They watched him grow up and fall in love with math and science--and Caitlin, and get his glowing letters from his teachers and still think the idea of him going away to one of the country's best schools was silly. Childish, like one of Rosita's make believe stories.

How could they see him, see what he's willing to sacrifice, how hard he'll work, has worked, and still be so confident that Cisco was wasting his time?

“I’m going to sleepover at Barry’s,” Cisco announced, too upset to look them in the eye. Too angry to wait and listen to their reply. To be given permission to leave.

They were way past granting him permission to do things anymore, in his books.

Dante tried to pull him back when he passed by, uttered his name, but Cisco pushed, shoving his brother out of his path with a hard glare, poisoned with fiery pain, daring him to say another word.

He didn't wait for the elevator of the building to make it to their floor, just ran down the spiralling steps, all at once, and fled.

~.~

Cisco called Caitlin twice but it went to voicemail. He banged his head against the steering wheel in the humid, sticky old car with the rusted paint and broken AC, keys still in the engine, motor running, stalled in the apartment parking lot, and cried loud ugly sobs.

~.~

Dr. Allen didn’t question why he had to double his pancake recipe in the morning, just ruffled Cisco’s hair and called him and Barry sluggers, and for that Cisco was grateful.

Cisco parted ways with Barry on the Allen's front steps, after he got pulled in for a hug. 

"We'll look at options, okay? Jobs and stuff." Barry cracked a smile. "Maybe we can wait tables together."

"You'd do that for me?" Cisco, asked, pleasantly surprised.

Barry nodded. "I could use some extra cash, to take Iris out and stuff. You want to walk to her house with me?"

Cisco nodded to the Toyota. "Nah, I told Caitlin I'd pick her up this year now that I have the car. I'll see you in school."  

~.~

Cisco sat in his driver's seat, tapping his fingers against the dashboard, still dreary, exhausted, and weighed down, but, hopeful to see the one person who would be sure to make him feel better.

Minutes clocked by and his hope turned to worry, and he wrestled with the idea of unbuckling his seatbelt to see what was wrong.

Because something was wrong. Caitlin was late. And she's never been late in all the years that he knew her.  

She was late and so he was just as relieved as surprised when Dr. T knocked on his window, after walking briskly down her house's long driveway.

He rolled it down, frowning. “Is Caitlin sick?”

“She already left with her driver,” she informed. “She made it clear that she didn’t want to see you.”

It was like being dunked in cold water.

“What?”

“Get to school, Francisco.”

Cisco grabbed his phone in the glove compartment, about to call her, not above believing Carla Tannhauser pulling a fast one on him (she never did exactly like him, but this would've been cruel) when the text came through.

❤ Caitlin ❤ : We're breaking up.

[ivanthestoryteller]

A Walk in the Woods

Ivan was taking a stroll through a path that he had traveled down many times before. It was therapeutic, giving him time to be with himself, to enjoy the sights and sounds of the forest all alone. Sure, he had encountered people going down the same path, but he rarely ever chatted with them, usually helping them with directions or if they needed the time. He always made sure to keep it that way and if they wanted to make it take longer, then he would feign his leg acting up and would point to his cane to help him get away from chatting.

It was a bit rude and maybe antisocial, but he didn’t care. After all, why visit when he just wanted peace? Only once did he outright become rude when a woman offered to help him back to civilization and simply wouldn’t leave his side until he flat out told the truth. She was hurt by his words (or was it stunned?) and he felt bad afterward, but that wasn’t his fault, so he moved on rather soon.

He had been walking for hours now, his gnarled cane helping to prop him up and keep him going. He wasn’t in need of it, but it helped in walking, alleviating any aches that could occur after long periods of movement. The round head felt good, letting him truly feel the sturdiness of the device. Yet the thing failed to help in removing the fog that surrounded him. He had checked the reports for the weather and failed to be notified of the sudden onset of such a phenomenon.

Surely I should’ve hit the junction by now, he thought to himself. He was confident that he could walk the path while blind after the amount of time he had committed to it. Yet the junction he needed to be at was nowhere to be found; it was just him walking along the path straight and true without any real curves to it. Plus the fog didn’t allow for him to see very far, with the visibility to be, at best, twenty-five feet. He grumbled, disgusted at the prospect he had become lost.

He failed to measure any amount of time having passed, being unable to see the sun and having no other method to discern such a passage as well. He reckoned that an hour had passed, though he was bad with telling time this way. His grumbling was constant now, continuing up to the point where he saw the opportunity to sit on a bench and rest his weary soles.

He barely registered the crunching of the leaves that had appeared on the ground, simply relishing the thought of sitting. He put himself down on it, hearing a creak and groan, though feeling no give to the seat beneath him. He sighed in relief, his feet finally able to communicate to him that they were in need of desperate rest. His ears simply stopped listening to the world itself and turned inward for the purpose of peace since no one else seemed to be around. His eyes followed suit in that they closed and let him simply rest. These traitorous acts led him to be unable to notice the crunching of leaves approaching him until it was too late.

“May I join you?” called out a voice. It sounded like it belonged to a man of an age far more ancient than that of the world as it was. Ivan looked to confirm if this was the case and indeed it was. The man was walking with his own cane, actively supporting himself by leaning against it. The cane was lightly lacquered and more gnarled than even Ivan’s, with a hook for the handle. The man was sporting a white beard that reached his stomach and had glasses that looked to be centuries old with the glass rather thin. His clothes were plain enough and seemed to match the expectations of a man in his senior years. Then there was the hat, being one of an unknown type to Ivan, though he suspected it was as old as the man himself appeared to be.

“Certainly. I can’t deny you a seat,” Ivan said, scooting over to the end farthest away from the man. The senior tipped his hat and sat. Ivan hoped he wouldn’t have to make small talk or even entertain the man with talk of any kind. Sadly, such hopes were canceled rather soon.

“I hope you have a minute to spare for some conversation,” spoke the wizened man. Ivan internally sighed before his reply so as to avoid being rude.

“I do,” he spoke, driving any irritability out of his voice that he could find.

“Good,” spoke the senior, “I find that weather is usually lightened up with a good talk. Maybe this fog will pass all the sooner for it?”

“Maybe,” Ivan concurred absentmindedly.

“Splendid. Now, I can see you’re leagues above your peers in many respects.” Ivan looked at him, confused.

“What do you mean, good sir?” Despite his usual wants, he had suddenly become very interested in this man’s words and wished to see where it led.

“You seem to be kind when an elder requests a trivial thing and grant it with ease. You also speak in a manner higher than those within your generation or even of a generation before yours. This leads me to assume you had an upbringing with a love for reading as well as being taught how to be kind to others from an early age.” Ivan seemed especially surprised, but hid this rather well.

“All of which I can attribute to my mother,” Ivan said. The senior chuckled a little.

“She sounds like a kind woman,” the senior spoke.

“She still is.”

“And if she taught all of that, then she must also have taught you to enjoy nature, correct?” Ivan was astonished at the man.

“You’re rather perceptive,” he replied to the senior. The old man chuckled again, though there was a different element added to it altogether, one which Ivan could not name.

“With someone in my position, it requires such a skill so as to be prepared for everything,” the senior spoke.

“And may I inquire as to what that position is?”

“You may. But you will fail to know until at a later time. Now, I do believe we have moved past formalities, barring names, yes?”

“I do believe so,” Ivan said. “Which leads me to beg the question: Why are you here alone? Surely there was someone to assist you?”

“Then it will surprise you when I say I had no problem in coming here nor do I have anyone to assist me while here,” the old man said. “Which does lead me to assume that I may ask the same of you.” Ivan thought for a moment.

“I don’t enjoy people. They all seem to be invested in things I have little interest for, things I find annoying and would assume lowers the intelligence of a man should he view it,” Ivan said with brutal honesty. “Plus it clears the head better when I’m not with someone.”

“I can see you have some degree of contempt for your fellow man,” the old man said.

“If they were my fellow man, then they would be more akin in my interests. Otherwise, they are simply there to occupy space,” Ivan said with a laugh. The old man grinned at this.

“And you said it clears the mind. I take it you’re a creative type of man. I’m assuming writer.”

“That’s correct.”

“Figures. A man such as yourself would have picked a more difficult art form,” the old man said with a quick stretch of his arms.

“I found it more to my liking. Never had the skill for a more physical medium. At least, that might be the case if I had ever been given a chance to direct something,” Ivan spoke with a touch of sadness in his voice.

“You have a knack for telling stories at least,” the old man corrected himself.

“And of you?” Ivan asked him.

“All in due time,” the old man said, raising his hand and then lowering it again. “But I feel like there’s a bit more for you to say before I delve into myself to any degree.” Ivan felt frustration rising within himself, pushing it back down. “Now, I take it you have no woman waiting for you at home?”

“You’d be correct,” Ivan replied, unsure of how the man was going to go about the whole subject. The old man cleared his throat.

“This leads me to assume that you’ve had a few major tragedies in your past.”

“Who hasn’t?” Ivan asked, unsure of where the man was heading.

“But yours is of a special quality to this conversation compared to the next man. I take it you had girl break your heart when you were younger and you had no father to help in the later years of your upbringing, thus leading to neglect in the ability to date other girls.” Ivan instantly became suspicious, trying his hardest to keep a face that was stalwart.

“How do you reckon?” His voice was giving him away.

“You have no girl at home waiting for you. You failed to have a woman in your life because at some point a woman broke your heart. This isn’t too much of a problem, but this would mean you managed to find another woman later on. However, since you didn’t, then I am to assume you were rather unversed in finding women easily or with any degree of luck since you had no father to truly help you out with dating. If you had no father to help with that, then there is a chance your father died since your mother is too nice of a woman to divorce him,” the old man said, rattling off everything that was true about Ivan’s life.

“You seem to assume quite often,” Ivan said, unsure if he should feel fear or anger at the accuracy of the man’s claims.

“That’s simply the perception,” the old man said, grinning even wider. “Now, there is the other chance that you have a deeper fear, one that does not seem to simply be afraid of the fairer sex but rather of the self toward them. This can be coupled with the points I have stated earlier and thus the reason why you have no woman at home.”

“And if I say ‘yes’ to all of it, would you then be so kind as to provide some information about yourself?” Ivan asked with impatience. He knew it was all true and was wondering why this senior had taken to examining his life as well as displaying it to any who might be nearby. He saw a shadow dart in the fog beyond the trees and shivered at the sight of it. He couldn’t be where he thought he was to any extent nor was he sure he would see home again.

“I’m rather sorry for making this a one-sided conversation, but since I did drive you to this point, I figure I’ll answer your questions,” the old man began, his grin so wide as to send further chills across Ivan’s body. “You see, I go by many names but I enjoy Lucifer best. You have led an interesting life, one I bore witness to and am glad I did. Now, you might be wondering why I’m here and striking conversation with you. Well, if I’m being honest, it’s because I like to crawl out every once in awhile and talk to those who I deem worthy of meeting me.

“However, many of them don’t ever make it back their homes afterward.” His sentence was punctuated by another shadow darting through the fog. Ivan began to sweat, sure he was going to be dragged to Hell. “You have managed to show me kindness with no real reason. You even entertained the idea of talking with me when many wouldn’t. For this, I have respect for you. And as such,” Ivan dreaded to hear the rest, “I think it only fitting you get to go home.” Lucifer stood and turned to face the man he had talked with. “I think this is where we part ways, but I might have to visit you again sometime. Maybe we’ll have more to talk about then.”

Lucifer cracked a smile at the prospect and began walking past Ivan, telling him to take the same path as he in order to get back home. Ivan heard no more, whether it was the sound of footsteps leaving or the voice of the Devil himself. Ivan was more than pale and if anyone should have passed him by, they would suspect that he was drained entirely of blood. Yet Ivan managed to find his feet and stand, following the direction of Lucifer and walking.

He moved slowly at first, barely a shuffle and then it grew to a walk proper. It was here, though, that he finally stepped free of the fog, greeted by the sight of his house and the walkway that led to up to it. Ivan turned back and saw there was no fog nor was there a pathway to explain how he had managed to find his home. But he still took this good fortune and walked inside, the horror that the Devil knew where he resided never once hitting him, as well as the idea that he was the plaything of the Prince of Hell.

Well, I thought someone might enjoy seeing a short story from me. Hopefully this will help to convince some to start following me. If you’re interested in supporting me, then here’s my patreon (shameless plug: check). Overall, if you like it, then please feel free to share (just don’t actively steal the credit for writing this). Thank you for reading and have a nice day.

[olko71]

New Post has been published on All about business online

New Post has been published on http://yaroreviews.info/2021/05/apples-tim-cook-faces-pointed-questions-from-judge

Apple's Tim Cook Faces Pointed Questions From Judge

Apple Inc. AAPL -1.48% Chief Executive Tim Cook faced tough questions from the federal judge who will decide whether the iPhone maker operates an improper monopoly, including about the competitiveness of its App Store payment system.

Mr. Cook spent about four hours Friday on the witness stand in an Oakland, Calif., court trying to rebut claims by “Fortnite” videogame creator Epic Games Inc. that Apple unfairly prohibits competing app stores on the iPhone and forces in-app purchases for digital payments through its own system that takes as much as a 30% cut.

He argued that Apple’s prohibition of rival app stores on the iPhone and its insistence on reviewing all apps sold ensures the security of users. He also pushed back against the Epic lawyer’s attempts to show the company was motivated by profit considerations.

As Mr. Cook’s time on the public witness stand neared an end, U.S. District Judge Yvonne Gonzalez Rogers interjected, noting that game developers seemed to be generating a disproportionate amount of money for Apple compared with the technology the iPhone maker was providing in turn.

Tim Cook in the federal complex in Oakland, Calif., on Friday.

Photo: Noah Berger/Associated Press

She said Apple’s in-app payment system didn’t face competition and zeroed in on why Apple prohibits developers from alerting users in their apps to cheaper options for in-app purchases outside of Apple’s system—an issue that has arisen several times during the trial.

“I understand this notion that somehow Apple brings the customer to the gamers, the users, but after that first time, after that first interaction…the developers are keeping their customers, Apple is just profiting off that,” she said.

Mr. Cook disagreed, arguing that the many free apps available on the App Store attract customers to the potential benefit of game developers, and defended Apple’s right to choose a business model that relies on commissions from apps and in-app purchases.

“If we allowed people to link out like that we would in essence give up our total return on” intellectual property, Mr. Cook said.

“ ‘We’re not thinking about the money at all, we’re thinking about the user.’ ”

— Tim Cook, in court testimony

Unlike in a jury trial, Judge Gonzalez Rogers will decide the case, which is scheduled to end Monday. Both sides have been closely watching her statements and questions during the past three weeks of the trial to gauge how she is leaning; she had previously asked about the idea of allowing developers to notify their users of a cheaper alternative to Apple’s payment system.

Longtime court observers caution against reading too much into any judge’s statements during a proceeding. Judge Gonzalez Rogers’s questions came after Mr. Cook had tried to spend much of his time emphasizing that user security motivates Apple.

“We’re not thinking about the money at all, we’re thinking about the user,” he said.

Mr. Cook began testifying around 8:15 a.m. local time by discussing Apple’s commitment to security and privacy—a familiar theme for the CEO—and his belief that third-party developers with their own app stores aren’t motivated to match the level of user protection that Apple provides with its App Store.

He noted that Apple reviews about 100,000 apps a week and rejects about 40,000 for various reasons.

SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS

Does Apple unfairly restrict competition in the mobile-app marketplace? Why, or why not? Join the conversation below.

“You can imagine if you turned the review off how long that it would take the App Store to just become a toxic kind of mess,” Mr. Cook said. “It would be terrible for the user, but it also would be terrible for the developer because the developer depends on the store being a safe and trusted place where customers want to come and feel good about transacting.”

Apple’s case that it isn’t a monopoly has relied on citing Android phones, personal computers and videogame consoles as additional ways for Epic to distribute its “Fortnite’’ game, and underscoring that other platforms collect a similar commission.

Mr. Cook said that Apple faced “fierce” competition from Alphabet Inc.’s Google, Samsung Electronics Co. and others and emphasized how much value his company’s investment in the app economy has created for developers—an assertion fitting claims from Apple’s lawyers that the company’s fees are fair.

“It’s been an economic miracle,” he said.

“What is the problem with allowing users to have choice—especially in gaming content—to find, to having cheaper options?” Judge Gonzalez Rogers asked Mr. Cook.

“I think they have a choice today,” he responded. “They have a choice between many different Android models of a smartphone or an iPhone, and that iPhone has a certain set of principles behind it in safety, security and privacy.”

Mr. Cook’s testimony will be scrutinized well beyond the courtroom as Apple faces increasing threats from lawmakers and regulators around the world examining the power it has over third-party software developers.

Approaching his 10th anniversary as CEO, Mr. Cook is pursuing a strategy for Apple that involves expanding its digital offerings to offset any slowdown in iPhone sales.

In total Mr. Cook testified about four hours, including some time behind closed doors for business confidentiality. He faced questions from Epic’s lawyer of a type that he rarely gets each quarter from Wall Street analysts, including about Apple’s removal of apps for the Chinese government and details of the deal making Google the default search engine on the iPhone.

During the cross-examination, Epic lawyer Gary Bornstein tried to pin down Mr. Cook down on whether company calculates the profit margin of its App Store in a bid to illustrate that the company is making outsize profits from developers.

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Mr. Cook insisted Apple doesn’t calculate such things and avoided most discussion about profitability. Asked if Apple’s multibillion-dollar deal for Google to be the default search engine on iPhones, he insisted: “It’s still in the best interest of the user.”

“Sir, it’s a very lucrative arrangement for Apple,” Mr. Bornstein said. “Am I right about that?”

Said Mr. Cook: “They pay us money.”

Mr. Bornstein turned to what he called public information that the government has said Google paid Apple upward of $10 billion. In October, the Justice Department filed an antitrust lawsuit against Google that, in part, claimed the search engine was paying between $8 billion and $12 billion annually for the arrangement. Apple wasn’t accused of wrongdoing in that case.

“I don’t remember the exact number,” Mr. Cook responded. Asked if it was upward of $10 billion, Mr. Cook said he didn’t know.

Throughout the trial, both sides focused on Apple’s motivation last fall for lowering the commissions it collects to 15% from 30% on apps generating no more than $1 million in revenue. Mr. Cook said it was prompted by concerns of small businesses amid the Covid-19 pandemic while conceding litigation concerns played some role. The judge said it seemed to stem from the pressure Apple was feeling from investigations and litigation and not competition.

Mr. Cook’s defense of the company’s in-app payment system revolved around the idea that it helps Apple bill developers. Without it, he said, “It would be a mess.”

Apple’s stock-market value hit a new record this year, but its longstanding disputes with app developers are bubbling over into public view. WSJ explains why high-profile companies like Epic Games, Spotify and Tinder are at odds with App Store rules. Video/illustration: Jaden Urbi/WSJ

His testimony put Mr. Cook in the same courtroom as rival Tim Sweeney, the co-founder and CEO of Epic, who has attended the trial each day

Mr. Sweeney took the witness stand during the trial’s first week, describing how Epic violated Apple’s app-store rules in order to show the power the iPhone maker wields. “Apple was making more profit from selling developer apps in the App Store than developers,” Mr. Sweeney testified on the trial’s opening day.

Epic filed its lawsuit against Apple in August after the iPhone maker kicked “Fortnite” out of the App Store for violating its rules. Epic’s team had created an in-app payment system aimed at circumventing Apple’s and sneaked it into “Fortnite” that month.

On the stand Friday, Mr. Cook said the return of “Fortnite” to the App Store would benefit the user—if Epic followed Apple’s rules. “The user is caught between two companies,” he said. “It’s not the right thing to do with the user.”

Write to Tim Higgins at Tim.Higgins@WSJ.com

Corrections & Amplifications Nina Riggio of Bloomberg News is credited for the photo of Tim Cook arriving at court on Friday. An earlier version of this article incorrectly carried a credit for David Paul Morris of Bloomberg News. (Corrected on May 21.)

Epic vs. Apple

Copyright ©2020 Dow Jones & Company, Inc. All Rights Reserved. 87990cbe856818d5eddac44c7b1cdeb8

[rorynne]

Time Lost Ch 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/OC

Summary: An accident during a mission sends Shield agent Victoria Taylor back in time to the second world war. There she enlists the help of Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes to find the object that can send her back.

Warnings: Mentions on Nazis, again, not much bucky yet.

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: After 4 days of working on it, chapter 1 is done. A lot of this is set up, so not much bucky but he should be present a lot more onwards! 

Masterlist

Prologue

Storm clouds hung heavy in the sky as Victoria sat in the back of a jeep bound for the current SSR base in Italy. Almost two years of searching and there was barely any information on the bell to go off of. It was beyond frustrating. At this rate, she was starting to wonder if she would ever get back to her time. Granted, all of the documents she brought back were dated 1943 or later, chances were development on the bell had only just begun. And if that were the case, hopefully, it wasn't going to take them seventy years to finish.

Her general lack of ability to change anything also proved to be frustrating as hell. Only Peggy knew of Victoria's true origins. They had both decided against going around saying she was from the future, god only knew that would just get them both locked up. However, as a result, that meant she was far less likely to be believed any time she tried to keep an event from happening if she lacked any evidence. She never thought she would sympathize with Cassandra.

“I was  beginning to wonder when you'd show up.” A familiar voice teased as the jeep came to a halt. Victoria smiled as she saw Peggy waiting to inspect the arriving convoy. Peggy had managed to make the last two years far more bearable, becoming quick friends with victoria.

“You know me,” She said, jumping out of the back of the jeep. “I like to keep everyone guessing.”

Peggy smiled as Victoria approached. “Perhaps a little too much.” She accused. “How was Paris?”

Victoria shrugged and canted her head, “Beautiful city, great food, interesting history.” She crossed her arms. “Too bad I wanted to shoot the majority of my company.”

“I trust you were able to resist the temptation?” Said Peggy eyeing Victoria in amusement.

“Figured I would let the boys have the nazi killing fun for now.” She sniffed indignantly. “Kind of regret it now. At least then I would have something to account for coming back.”

“No luck on the bell?”

“No luck on anything.” Victoria corrected, “A whole lot of Nazis but no hydra. It seems the intel we had was either old or false.”

Peggy nodded at one of the soldiers carrying a crate from a truck. “You think they’ve caught on to us?”

Victoria chewed her cheek. “I'm not sure. I can't say they knew I was coming, or I’d be dead. Or at least so I would assume. I don't see any reason why they would keep me alive knowing I'm a spy. But at the same time, there wasn't a single member of hydra there. I've never seen that before, usually there's at least one.

Peggy narrowed her eyes. “If we aren't being fed false information then somethings happening.”

“And whatever it is, I think the ones outside of hydra are just about as in the dark as we are. Hydra’s making a play, a big one.”

“A faction split?” Peggy offered.

“It's possible. But if it's that, they've got to be pretty confident that they can win.” Victoria scratched the back of her neck, entirely unsure of what to make about any of it.

Peggy nodded, “if what the surviving 107th are saying is true, it seems they've got just that.” Seemingly content with the convoy, Peggy started towards the SSR command tent. “Your history books say anything about this?”

Victoria followed close behind. “About the 107th? Not much. They get captured, Captain America comes in and saves the day singlehandedly. Dunno how much stock I put into to all that personally. Lotta things about the Cap and hydra got covered up after the war by shield. Especially in the history books.”

Peggy frowned, walking into the tent. “I can believe it. I've seen Rogers in action, unfortunately, the army seems content parading him around America singing about war bonds.

Victoria’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me, what?”

“Peggy gestured to the poster hanging from a support beam of the tent. “Captain America,” it read, “on tour: Allied bases across Europe and North Africa.” Victoria bit her lip to keep from laughing, this was not how she ever imagined meeting Captain America.

“They, they really have him singing?” She said, fighting to keep a straight face.

“Dancing at the very least,” said Peggy, not sounding the slightest bit amused. “Bloody waste if you ask me. He’ll be arriving and preforming here tomorrow.”

Victoria shook her head, still staring at the poster. “I wouldn't miss it for the world.”

The captain's performance was, frankly, every bit as hilarious as Victoria expected. The rest of the crowd, however, didn't seem to agree. Instead, they demanded the dancing girls come back on stage. Victoria grimaced as the famous steve rogers walked off stage, noticeably embarrassed. The captain America she knew was a hero, a legend even. But this was before all of his exploits before he saved the world more times than she could count. He barely seemed to be the same man.

She held back for a time, figuring he would want space after such a humiliation. But, as the rain that had been threatening for two days now began to pour, she went searching for him. Surely there was something that pushed him out of the theater and into heroism because he was far better at the latter. Whose brilliant idea even was it to have him dancing around in the first place?

She found him with Peggy, taking refuge from the rain under a wooden awning behind the stage. Peggy's face was stern as Victoria neared, “And these are your only options? Lab rat or dancing monkey?”

“War hero seems like a fun third option.” Victoria cut in, earning a raised eyebrow from Peggy. “Or, you know, literally anything else.”

He looked at Victoria with apprehension and confusion as Peggy took a patient breath. “What agent Taylor means, is you were meant for more than this.”

Victoria extended a hand to him. “Sorry, my humor isn't for everyone. Victoria Taylor.”

He nodded, shaking her hand. “Steve Rogers.” He sighed as his attention was pulled to an arriving red cross truck. “These men look like they've gone through hell.”

Victoria crossed her arms, “They've gone through war.”

“These men more than most. They're what's left of the 107th.” Peggy agreed and victoria winced. What these men had seen seemed to make hell seem heavenly.

Steves' eyes went wide. “The 107th?” He was up and running to the command tent before Peggy could even respond. Peggy and victoria shared a glance before chasing after him through the rain.

Col. Phillips sat signing what were presumably condolence letters at his desk in the back fo the tent as steve rushed up to him. Phillips looked up just barely before returning to the letters. “If it isn't the star-spangled man with a plan. What do I own the pleasure.”

“I need the casualty list from Azzano,” Steve said with unexplained urgency.

Phillips looked up from his papers with a glare. “You don't get to give me orders.”

“I just need one name,” Steve continued, “Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th.” The name tugged the back of Victoria's memory, she had heard it somewhere before, in a museum maybe? That was right, she recalled the handsome picture of a soldier engraved in stone in the howling commando exhibit at the Smithsonian. He had been the one that died. Steve lost his best friend. Victoria gave him a pitiful look as he argued with Phillips, she had always thought that Barnes became a commando before dying.

“But I don't expect you to understand that because you're a chorus girl.” Phillips's harsh words pulled Victoria out of her thoughts.

“I think I understand just fine,” Steve responded coolly.

“Then understand it somewhere else, if I read the posters right you have somewhere to be in 30 minutes.” Phillips moved passed him to look over maps with another officer, making his stance on the conversation clear.

“Yes sir,” Steve said, studying the large map board in front of him, “I do.” He turned on his heels and rushed out of the tent, leaving Peggy and Victoria in his wake.

“I’ll go after him,” Peggy whispered to Victoria. “We need maps and supplies, whatever you can think of, then meet us in the hangar as soon as you can.”

Victoria nodded letting Peggy follow after Steve. She stood there for a moment, pretending to study the map board before quickly and casually taking a smaller map off Col. Phillips desk and slipping it into her coat. With a nod to the nearest officer, Victoria walked out of the tent and into the rain.

Already thoroughly drenched from her previous two treks thought the rain, she didn't bother trying to shield herself from the downpour as she made her way to the nearest storehouse. Knowing Peggy, they were probably going to get court-martialed with whatever she had planned, so might as well go the whole hog and steal any supplies steve might need.

She grabbed a gunny sack as soon as she entered the storeroom and started filling: A compass, multiple rations of food, a blanket, flashlight, rope, matches. Anything and everything that she could think of that he might need should he get lost. ‘Cause God knows, the way he was charging off, he damn well didn't consider any of this.

“Hey!” A guard called to her. “You aren't authorized to take any of this!”

She slung the sack over her shoulder as the guard approached. “Youll find that I am, private.” She bluffed. “Under official SSR orders. Unless that is, you want to waste Col Phillips time clearing it with him first?” The guard blanched at the mention of Phillips's name.

“No, Ma’am!” He said quickly, stepping out of her way. Victoria gave a sharp nod before escaping the warehouse. She started toward the Hangar before pausing and looking at the stage. A devilish smile came over her as she changed her course.

The backstage was empty when victoria entered, likely all the actors and dancers were still on break, leaving the costumes unguarded. Because, really, who on earth would want to steal them, beside Victoria. She hummed the tune to ‘star-spangled man’ as she picked up a helmet with a large white ‘A’. one thing was for sure, steve was going to save the 107th in (extremely questionable) style.

Peggy, steve and stark were waiting at the hangar when Victoria arrived, helmet in hand, a grin plastered across her face. “You know, for a star-spangled man with a plan, I'm wondering if you've ever had a plan in your life.” She teased, handing him the helmet and sack of supplies.

Steve gave Victoria a look as he fiddled with the helmet, “In all fairness ma’am, you haven't known me long.”

“First impressions mean a lot, Rogers.” She shrugged, moving onto Peggy. “Though I’m not sure if this plan is much better than no plan.” She said in a low voice only Peggy could hear.

“We don't have many other options at the current moment.” Peggy defended as Steve and Stark boarded the plane. “Unless you somehow convinced Col. Phillips to give us an army.”

“I'm not a miracle worker.” Victoria sighed.

“You said he was able to do this single-handed, we just need to have faith.” Peggy took a deep breath, even she didn't seem completely convinced.

Victoria nodded, “Time to prove the history books right. I’ll stay grounded to try to keep the colonel distracted. Go.” Victoria gave a mock salute as the plane took off, leaving her behind.

Keeping Phillips occupied until the plane returned proved to be quite easy. He was already extremely busy, and with some strategic playing dumb and careful excuses as to why she was doing Peggy's work, he was none the wiser until the plane landed the next morning. Then the shit hit the fan.

Steve didn't come back. Two weeks after the flight to Austria and there was absolutely no sign of him either. Phillips was furious, Victoria did everything in her power to avoid him, though she knew it wouldn't be long before consequences came. There was a good possibility that her chance to get home was lost if steve didn't show up.

Victoria sat on the ground against a tree, picking at her fingers. At this point, she didn't even care about getting home. Instead, she couldn't shake the guilt of getting an avenger killed before the avengers were even a thing. The guilt of it alone made it difficult for her to even sleep at night. She would have gone into Austria herself to find him, if Phillips hadn't expressly forbidden it, and kept an armed guard on her 24/7 as a baby sitter.

“You look like a child that's been sent to the headmaster,” Peggy said looking down at her.

Victoria nodded, “Feel like it too.”

“Do you regret helping him?” Peggy asked, voice tight.

“Victoria sighed and looked up at her, “I regret not helping him more.” She admitted, “I teased him about not having a plan, and then didn't even try to give him one. I could have followed that dumbass into Austria myself.” The young soldier asking as victoria’s baby sitter shifted uncomfortably. “Stop acting like you've never heard a woman fucking swear Simmons.”

“Y-yes ma’am” He stammered and Victoria rolled her eyes.

“We did everything we could for him,” Peggy reassured, ignoring Simmons. “He would have walked to Austria if we didn't help him.”

Victoria laughed weakly, “I’ve done stupider things.” She paused for a beat, biting her lip, “Peggy, I, I’m sorry about this all. I could tell how much you liked him.”

Peggy swallowed, “Yes, well. I'm glad he wasn't stuck as a dancing monkey.” She cleared her throat, “I'm going to speak with Col. Phillips if you would like to join me.”

Victoria scoffed, “No, I'd rather him find me if he wants to chew me out.” Peggy nodded and left victoria sitting under her tree. No doubt Phillips would be in a bad mood. He was finally calling off the searches today, officially labeling Steve Rogers as KIA. God, if only she had just gone with him as back up, at least then either he would be alive or she’d be too dead to care.

She threw her head back in frustration as hoots and hollers came from the front of the camp. Soldiers began funning to the gates, curious, Victoria joined them. She gasped when she saw what the soldiers were congregating for.

A hundred some odd men came marching through the gates, Steve Rogers, Captain America, leading the way. Cheers rippled through the crowd as the group walked through the camp, stopping in front of Col. Phillips. Victoria slipped between the men in efforts to get a better view.

“Hey!” The man next to steve yelled, making victoria freeze, surprised, as she saw the familiar handsome face of a man she had only seen in museum exhibits. “Let's hear it for Captain America!” The crowd roared, men throwing their caps in the air, whistling, yelling, clapping. Victoria found herself clapping too as Barnes’s eyes locked onto hers for a brief moment. He smiled faintly as he caught sight of her, a sparkle of something in his steel-blue eyes as she shifted her attention to finding Col. Phillips.

She moved through the crowd in search of him, only to find him missing from it. She soon found him exactly where she expected him to be, the SSR command tent. She wore a sly smirk that would have read ‘I told you so” Had he bothered to look up at her. Instead, he focused on packing away his desk. “Don't think for a moment that just because Captain Rogers came back that you're off my shit list Agent Taylor.”

She frowned, “He saved at least a hundred and fifty men. I played a part in that.”

“And that's exactly why I'm not court martialing you for theft of government property.” He said as he tucked away a folder into a box. “Tell Agent Carter to pack her things, we’re returning to London for debriefing first thing tomorrow.”

She scowled, “Yes sir.”

[ibsul-jin]

Min-zero (part I)

Genre: enemies to lovers

Pairing: CEO!Mino x reader

Summary: Loosely based off of the Taiwanese drama “Refresh Man”. Roles are reversed when you start working as your high school nemesis’ personal assistant.

Word count: 1.7k (the next parts will hopefully be longer)

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Your eyes fly open and land on the alarm clock sitting on top of the beside table. It reads 5:30 am.

You rip off the covers and jump out of bed. “You still have 3 hours to be at the office ready for your first day of work. Perfect!” you think. Being the perfectionist you are, you already have all of your work clothes neatly ironed and hanging off the door to your bathroom. You quickly shower, straighten your hair, get dressed and eat a healthy breakfast of muesli and fruit before you’re out the door a whole hour before you need to be. “A perfect start to what will be a perfect day.”

You arrive outside the office building you’re supposed to be working in. It’s a 40-storey skyscraper with “WIN ENTERPRISES” in huge, gleaming letters at the very top. You stare up at the building, awe-struck, until you’re suddenly being slammed into from behind. You fall to the ground hard, and your handbag’s contents are scattered all over the pavement. You’re pretty sure you scraped your palms and knees judging from the sting, but you blink back any tears that threaten to ruin your makeup.

“I’M SO SORRY!” you hear from above you. The offender sticks out a hand to help you up to your feet. “I didn’t mean to run into you. I was just on the phone with my boss and he was threatening to fire me if I wasn’t in his office in five minutes. That’s why I was running so fast,” he explains. The man looked genuinely apologetic. He was probably around your age, you figured, with dark hair and puffy lips. “He’s pretty cute”, you think, “but there’s no room for distractions, Y/N. You’ve got to get your head in the game.”

“You look like you’re new here,” the man observes.

“Yes, it’s actually my first day,” you reply, smoothing out any creases that could’ve formed on your skirt and blazer.

“My name is Kang Seungyoon. I work for CEO Song,” he introduces himself with a handshake. “I really hope you don’t have the misfortune of meeting him.”

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you. Song? I don’t think I’m supposed to be working for him. What a relief.” Luckily, your boss was an older gentleman named CEO Kim. He had interviewed you himself for the position of his personal secretary a few weeks ago and was extremely impressed with your resume and interview skills. That being said, you were sure that, if you had to, you would be able to handle Mr. Song- or whatever his name was. You always put your 200% into anything you did and no boss ever disliked you, ever. Especially any man over the age of 65; the grandfather types, like Kim and Song, always found you well-mannered and charming.

“Well, I better be going before I get fired. See you around, Y/N. Good luck with your first day– I hope you enjoy working at WIN!” he jogs backwards toward the entrance, waving at you.

You pick up your belongings from the ground and make your way inside the building. You were always prepared for small mishaps like this one, that’s why you left an hour early. Inside, you are greeted by a palatial, marble-tiled lobby bustling with office-goers arriving for their shift. Off to the side, you spot four sets of elevators hard at work, transporting waves and waves of workers up the tower to their respective departments. You make your way to the front desk, still awestruck by the grandeur of the whole place.

“Hi, I’m here to see Mr. Kim. I’m his new secretary,” you tell the receptionist. She’s looks prim, as someone at the front desk of such a big company should, but also friendly.

“Let’s see... Ah, you must be Miss Y/N. You can take those elevators to the 39th floor. I’ll call and let them know you’re on your way up,” she says. You thank her and make your way to the elevators.

While you wait for the doors to open, you happen to overhear a conversation between two office workers, a male and a female, who are standing a few feet from you.

“Did you finish your report? He’s going to kill you if you don’t have it by today’s meeting,” you hear the female whisper harshly.

“Yeah, I finished it. It took me a week of all-nighters, too.” You hear a man tiredly reply. “Like it even matters. Song is probably going to rip it apart at the meeting and tell me to re-do it anyway.” The man rubs at his temples.

“That’s just awful,” you think, horrified. “What kind of monster needs a week of all-nighters to finish a measly report? He was probably just putting it off until the last minute,” you scoff to yourself. This Song guy must simply be tired of inefficient employees. He couldn’t be the fiend that people were making him out to be for no reason. Otherwise, how could he be a top executive at one of the most influential companies in Asia? Whatever, it wasn’t any of your concern.

By the time you’ve snapped out of your thoughts, you’ve arrived at the 39th floor. You file out of the elevator alongside the man and woman you were eavesdropping on. People working for the CEOs must all be on the same floor, you figure. What doesn’t cross your mind is why there were two people in the position of CEO at the same company. There’s a front desk on this floor too, with a secretary seated behind it. The secretary is a woman who seemed to be in her mid-thirties and is just as prim and proper as the one in the lobby.

“Hello, my name is Y/N. I’m Mr. Kim’s new secretary,” you introduce yourself. You hesitate but then add on, “Are you, by any chance, Mr. Song’s secretary?” as politely as you can.

“I think you might have gotten that completely backwards,” she laughs good-naturedly. “I’m Deborah, Mr. Kim’s secretary. Here, I’ll show you to his office.”

You were thoroughly confused but it was your first day and you were too nervous to try and correct her. Either way, you were now on your way to Mr. Kim’s office where you hoped that the confusion would be sorted out promptly.

When you arrive, you hear a muted conversation coming from beyond a large wooden door that says “CEO ____’s office” with the letters in between missing.

“Mr. Kim? Miss Y/N, the new secretary, is here to see you,” Deborah knocks on the door.

“Ah yes, Y/N. We were just talking about her. Send her in, Deborah,” you hear Mr. Kim call from inside the office. Talking about you? Exhaling deeply, you mentally prepare yourself for your first real interaction with your new boss. “You can do this Y/N, you’ve got this,” you psych yourself up. You open the door slowly.

You look around the huge office. One wall is completely filled with bookshelves made of rich mahogany teeming with books about commerce, law and such. There is an expensive-looking leather couch off to the other side. The office has a lot of eye-catching, swanky decor, but the real focal point of the room is the expansive, mahogany desk on the far side of the room. Beyond the desk are floor-to-ceiling windows, offering the room the most exquisite view of Seoul that you could ever imagine. There is a man standing in front of the windows (taking in the view, you suppose) and you can’t get a good look at his face because his back is turned to you. You do, however, instantly recognize Mr. Kim’s kindly face as he greets you with excitement.

“How lovely to see you again, Miss Y/N. Welcome to your first day at WIN enterprises,” he extends his arm towards you.

“I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity, sir. I look forward to serving you to the best of my efforts,” you vigorously shake his hand, hoping to convey how serious you were about your job.

“That is precisely what I was hoping to talk to you about. It isn’t me who you will be serving from today. It’s CEO Song,” he gestures toward the man at the window who is still facing away from you. What? Mr. Song? What was happening? You were getting more and more confused by the minute but you wouldn’t let anything break your composure.

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t think I quite understand what’s happening,” you reply coolly. “I was under the impression that I was hired to be your personal secretary.”

“I was conducting the interviews on Mr. Song’s behalf as he was very busy with his change in position. You see, I’m getting quite old and am unable to keep up with WIN Enterprises’ growing demands as a highly competitive force in the current Asian market. Mr. Song is more youthful, resourceful and a better leader than I. Therefore, I will be managing a subsidiary of the WIN group and Mr. Song will be replacing me as the new CEO of WIN. I will also be taking Deborah with me to my new placement. She has been my personal secretary for the last eight years and it would be hard for me to lose such a trustworthy employee. You, my dear, will be helping Mr. Song with his daily needs so that he can focus his efforts into running this company to the best of his abilities.” Well that was a plot twist, to say the least. It takes you a minute or two to wrap your head around the sudden change of events. “I hope this doesn’t change things for you, does it Miss Y/N?” Mr. Kim enquires after a few minutes of awkward silence.

“I- I understand, sir,” you finally reply. “I can definitely handle this. I promise to serve Mr. Song as well as I possibly can,” you turn to Mr. Song. “It will be my pleasure.”

“I think you might be mistaken, Y/N. The pleasure will be all mine,” Mr. Song says as he finally turns to face you. 

Wait. That face. It can’t be.

[chimerickat]

Transcience!reader for Kaiba's birthday :)? Thank you!

Note: Better late than never? *Hides.* This ended up much longer than I intended. I hope you enjoy! (I’ll also be crossposting to AO3.)

When you showed up at school, you found your locker buried under a mountain of presents. There were bags and wrapped boxes stacked on top of each other, ready to tumble over at any moment.

You decided that you had to be dreaming. Why would people leave you presents en masse this way? It wasn’t your birthday, and to your knowledge, there weren’t any holidays coming up.

You picked up one of the presents. On the top, “To: Seto” was written in cursive with a heart drawn at the end. Oh. These weren’t for you at all.

Why were presents piling up at Kaiba’s locker? It felt like a rock had settled into your stomach as you got your phone out and googled “Seto Kaiba”.

The results were in. Today was his birthday. Crap. You were the worst girlfriend. Hopefully, the fangirls wouldn’t find out.

You pushed some of the presents out of the way so you could access your own locker, and maybe you could have been less aggressive about it. Then you pulled your stuff out of the locker and dashed off to your next class before Kaiba turned up.

You worried about what to do. Should you lie and say you forgot the present at home? Should you ignore the fact that today is his birthday? Would it be ok to just wish him a Happy Birthday? What could anyone hope to give Seto Kaiba anyway?!

Your angst turned out to be for nothing. Kaiba never showed up at school.

By the time the day ended, you felt like you had dodged a bullet, but you still felt anxiety over what to give him for his birthday. You didn’t have much left over from your allowance for the month, having already spent it during the month, and even if you did have your full allowance, that still wasn’t very much to work with.

What could you give a businessman who had more money than most of Japan combined?

You froze at your car, an idea crashing into your head. That might… but how could you execute it? Mokuba could help, if only you had a way to contact him.

You could only try to get in touch with either of the brothers. With your plan half-formed and the certainty that it would fail, you got in your car and drove to the Kaiba Mansion. Worst case scenario would be the security guards turning you away.

At the mansion, doubt began to creep in as you pulled up to the security station outside the gates. You rolled down your window, hoping that you weren’t about to be shot, telling yourself that you were being silly and played too many shooters.

With a smile, you introduced yourself. Your name meant nothing to these men who just stared at you, waiting for you to get to the point. Right. “I’m, um, kind of dating Seto Kaiba‒”

The guard snorted. “You and half the female population of the city. Move along.” He gestured for you to pull your car away from the guard booth.

“Wait,” you said before he could close the window. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you’ve heard that before, but either of the Kaibas could confirm that information if you just reach out to them.”

“Miss, do you think I’d have a job still if I radioed Mr. Kaiba every single time someone came by pretending to know him?”

You shook your head, understanding what he meant about your boyfriend. “But what about Mokuba? He does know me. Could you reach out to him?”

“If you’re dating Mr. Kaiba, then call him and have him add you to the list of people allowed into the mansion, but until then, you need to move along.”

You huffed. Telling the man that you didn’t have Kaiba’s number wouldn’t help your case. Why did he have to keep calling you from a blocked number? (Nevermind that you kept forgetting to ask for his number. This was all his fault.)

Trying to get into the mansion was probably a waste of time anyway. “Can you at least confirm that Seto Kaiba is at work?”

The guard stared at you for a moment. “Move along.”

You rolled up your window, glaring at your steering wheel. You doubted you would have better luck at Kaiba Corp, but you had to try. If you tried, then at least you could honestly tell Kaiba that you tried to give him his birthday present on his actual birthday.

Parking at Kaiba Corp, was impossible. You ended up parking your car on the street about a block away. Once you made it to the main lobby, you realized why the parking structure had been so full. There was a horde of women in the lobby, all of them holding presents and insisting they had to deliver them to Seto personally.

Well, crap. You looked around, realizing there would be no way to make it up to Kaiba… not without an escort…

You turned, walked out the door and straight to the parking lot. You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw Kaiba’s limo and crossed your fingers as you approached it. You almost did a fist pump when you got close enough to see the driver inside. His driver may not know you, but you felt like he might recognize you. Hoping that you were right about that, you knocked on the window. The man turned with a glare, but once he face you, the glare dropped off his face. Confusion took over as he rolled down the window.

“Hi, you recognize me, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, can I help you, miss?”

Something was going your way. Hope took over. Maybe you could get to Kaiba. “Yeah, I was trying to see Kaiba since he skipped out today, but the lobby is flooded and there’s no way they’re letting me up. Would you be able to get me up to his office?”

“One minute.” He reached over to grab the phone sitting on his dash. He swiped at the screen for a moment before holding it up to his ear. A moment passed before he said, “Mr. Kaiba, I have your friend from school down here. She’s trying to get up to your office and having trouble with the front desk.” A pause. “No, sir, the girl you spend time with.” Another pause. “Yes, sir.” The man put his phone down and looked up. “He’s sending someone down to escort you up.”

You grinned. “Thank you!”

He nodded and an awkward silence took over as you stood there waiting for security to show up.

“Has he been here all day?” you asked, sure the answer was yes but wanting to say something.

“Since six am.”

You nodded, not sure what to say yes. You shifted from foot to foot, wishing you knew this man’s name. Would he be offended if you asked for it?

“Did you want to sit in the car and wait?” he offered.

“No, thanks,” you said without thinking about the offer. Would the silence be more uncomfortable in the car? You looked around at all the parked cars. Doubt began to creep in. What if Kaiba thought your birthday plan was stupid?

Then you saw a security guard. “Thanks again.” You waved to the driver as you started walking over to meet the security guard.

“Mr. Kaiba sent me to escort you up to his office. I just need to see some ID first.”

You nodded. Of course. You pulled out your driver’s license and presented it to the man. He took it and studied it before studying you. You smiled awkwardly. That photo was pretty bad.

“Follow me.” He turned and walked back toward the building.

You trailed behind him. “Um… my license?”

“We need to make a copy. Mr. Kaiba requested that you be given access to the building beyond just today.”

“Oh.” You felt your cheeks heat up. He wanted you to be able to visit him. That should be a given considering you were dating, but it was nice to hear. Maybe he would enjoy your birthday plan.

In the building, the security guard walked you through the employee entrance and led you over to a seperate room. He asked you to sit down for a photo as he handed your ID to someone and asked them to make a copy. You smiled at the camera and continued to sit in the chair after the light flashed. The security guard ignored you in favor of speaking with the person taking your picture. They discussed building access restrictions as the cameraman turned to a computer and began typing.

“I mean, Kaiba just wants her to be able to come up to his office, right? She doesn’t really need access to anything.”

“Correct, but she can’t be turned away just because they think she’s another fangirl.”

“Right, right. So front door access and elevator access to the top floor.” Without waiting for a response, the man’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “Done.”

“Great.” The security guard disappeared without saying anything to you.

You wondered if you should follow him, but he would have said something, right? You looked over at the man at the computer. He was staring at you, and you looked away when your eyes made eye contact. You kept your focus down, but he continued to stare.

“I always thought Mr. Kaiba would end up dating a model.”

You frowned, looking up at the man. “You don’t actually know him, do you?” You sounded sure of that fact, and you let yourself feel proud about that.

The man’s mouth twisted up into a smile, but he looked like he’d just eaten a sour candy. He opened his mouth to respond, but shut it again when the security guard re-entered the room.

The guard ignored him and presented you with your license and a Kaiba Corporation badge. The badge proclaimed you as the “CEO’s Girlfriend”. You were torn between annoyed at getting relegated to just his girlfriend and thrilled to see it in writing.

“I’ll take you up to Mr. Kaiba’s office.” The guard left the room, and you followed behind him. He led you to the elevator in silence. He pressed the up button, and the two of you only had to wait a moment before one of the elevator doors opened. You followed him into the elevator where he swiped his own badge at the reader and then pressed the button for the top floor.

Now that you were going to make it to Kaiba, you began planning what to actually say to him.

The guard held the elevator open for you at the top floor. He walked you over to a desk with a man sitting behind it. “Mr. Kaiba is expecting her.”

The man smiled and looked you over from head-to-toe. “So you’re the girlfriend? Nice to meet you.” He pressed a button and the doors behind his desk buzzed. “It’s unlocked.”

You turned to thank the guard, but he was already back at the elevators. So you turned back to the grinning secretary. “Thanks.”

“Just doing my job.” His phone began ringing, and you were forgotten as he answered it. “Seto Kaiba’s office.”

You pushed open the door, listening to Kaiba’s secretary as he insisted that all presents were going to be donated without any exceptions. “Trust me, the only exception outside of Mokuba is in his office right now.” You smiled as you let the door close behind you.

Kaiba looked up at the sound of the door. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, and if he hadn’t gone through the effort of allowing you to come up to his office, you might have assumed that he didn’t want to see you.

“It’s your birthday!” Then you froze, wondering if Kaiba had put the wrong date out there on purpose. “Right? I mean you didn’t tell me it was coming up…”

“It is the day that I was born, yes.”

You approached his desk. “Well, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Also, I’m kidnapping you.”

He scoffed. “Did Mokuba put you up to this?”

“No…” He looked up and raised his eyebrow, causing you to protest, “No, really! This was my own idea.”

“No. I don’t celebrate my birthday.”

That deflated your mood, and you sat down in the chair in front of his desk. “Really? But… why not?”

“I’m not a child.”

That was such a nonsense statement that you couldn’t begin to respond to it. Celebrating your birthday wasn’t childish. Everyone had a birthday! Kaiba didn’t look up from his work as you stormed out of his office. If he wouldn’t go out with you, then you would bring the party to him.

When you came back half an hour later, bearing a massive cupcake (or small cake, depending on who you asked) Mokuba was present. You grinned as you crossed the office. “Hey kid!” You put the cupcake down on Kaiba’s desk and reached into your pocket for the lighter you’d bought.

Mokuba tackled you with a hug. “Seto, c’mon, now you really have to celebrate with us!”

You flicked the lighter, trying to figure out exactly how to use it. “Don’t you dare,” Kaiba warned. You smirked at him before holding the flame to the candle and lighting it. Kaiba glared at both you and Mokuba as the two of you began singing. His face froze into the glare during the entire song, but at least he didn’t go back to work.

Once the two of you finished singing, he continued to glare.

“Blow out the candles,” Mokuba encouraged.

“I refuse.”

“Then I guess your office is going to burn down.” Your smile couldn’t get any wider.

“Don’t be ridiculous. The flame will just burn the entire candle and go out.”

You and Mokuba began to whine. Then Mokuba broke out the puppy eyes.

“Fine.” Kaiba blew the candle out. “Now will the two of you let me get some work done?”

“Nope.” Mokuba grabbed one of the plastic forks from you. “Not until you agree to have a birthday dinner with us!”

Kaiba groaned and turned back to his computer, doing his best to ignore the two of you.