#but it was so small and trivial that I felt stupid afterwards

[verkomy]

I have such a weird relationship with posting my drawings online cause I genuinely enjoy sharing my art with others but as soon I post something I immediately start hating it and can’t look at it anymore and I truly don’t know why that is

[lucylesdreams]

TW: CoCSA, voyeurism.

I am trauma dumping a bit here, hope you dont mind.

I must have been 10 when it happened. We are a small community, with few kids. Think we were 10-14 girls in my grade, and 8-10 boys. We had just started showering after gym class, always the last two classes of the week. I always took my bike to school. I was not particularly close to my classmates, nothing bad like bullying just not fitting in. The fact that we are such a small community did not help that, and many of us are related in some way. That did make it harder to fit in, but I also think it is one of the reasons why it did not escalate to more severe bullying and isolation. There were not enough showers for all of us. One had to shower alone. I did not have a bus to catch home, or any need to shower with a bestie like the rest, so it just had to be me showering on my own. Which never bothered me. While I was showering, the rest got dressed and put on make up. The girls in my class were very much into teen culture, make up and the tv-series "Glee", Twilight-books and boys. Maybe that is part of the reason to why I did not fit in.

Anyways, I was in the shower alone. One of the girls was a nasty piece of work, her cousin was too. He also was in our class. I feel no guilt for saying that about those kids, they both are still cruel today, 15 years later. They had planned a "little prank". When I stepped out of the shower, being the only one that was not dressed but for a towel, she opened the door and her cousin came running towards me. I crocheted in a corner, trying to cover myself. Crying, screaming. He did not touch me, but laid on the floor trying to see up under my towel. It felt like a long time. But the other girls finally had enough and pushed him away, and he left. Afterwards I got dressed. The other girls did not want to get into any trouble, and asked me not to tell the teacher or my parents. They did not want their friend to be punished. She said it was his idea, and was just meant to be a prank. And what good would it be to tell on the boy, he always got into trouble anyways. They did not want a teacher to stay with us while we changed and showered. And I was not hurt, so why make a big deal out of it. I did not say anything, I just stopped showering at school. And had nightmares.

I do wonder now how a 10 year old boy knew that looking on a naked girl would humiliate the girl, and how a 10 year old girl knew it was humiliating? When did he learn that? Who did he learn it from? Why did the girl help her cousin violate me? Must have been the same source, church, tv, his older brother, porn, etc. Not to be dramatic, but I still have nightmares of a male person laying on the ground trying to look up at my crotch. Where did I learn that I was so unimportant that I could let it go? Why was I too ashamed to get help? Why did I protect the cousins, that I did not even like? Did I already think of myself as less of a human than him?

Girls need to be protected from boys. Girls deserve a safe space from boys, just as much as women do from men. We need to talk about this more. Protecting girls from their male peers. Do you think girls have it better today than I did 15 years ago? And sadly parents, your boy may already been creeping on girls before you think he is old enough to understand what he is doing. He may already have given a girl nightmares for a lifetime before you have considered giving him "the talk". He may already be a pornsick misogynist before he start middle school. And this is not some stupid prank, or fun kid stuff. Stop trivializing boys sick and nasty behaviors. Protect little girls

[lilyofthevalley80]

Chapter 1

“RING! RING! RING!”

I grudgingly wake up to the sound of my alarm. I turn to my small light blue phone as I lazily reach for it. I finally turned it off and groaned as I got up from the comfort of my warm bed. *It’s time for school*  I think to myself as I walk to my large closet to change my clothes. *What to wear…what to wear…?* I decided that I would wear a simple black skirt that had little flowers decorating it. With a big beige shirt that had a cute large frog holding a pink flower on it. 

I also put on some black stockings that went up to my thighs with some cute green sneakers. I walk into my small bathroom and start to brush my hair into two buns. Afterwards, I washed my face and started to brush my teeth until they were pearly white. I can’t help but look at my reflection to see a young girl with chocolate hair and arctic blue eyes. With dots scattered across my face like stars in a galaxy. My name is Lily Duval and I’m a student at Golden Tree High School. I started thinking to myself until I heard a knock on the door of my room. 

“Darling! Breakfast is ready!” my father yelled out.

“I’m coming, papa!” I yelled back as I faced the door. I quickly run out of my bathroom and start to pack my stuff for school. After I was done, I opened the door and started to walk down the stairs. I could smell the delicious breakfast father was making. Pancakes…eggs…toast…sausages… I can’t help but drool as I walk closer to the living room, the smell just getting stronger every time. I finally walk into the kitchen, the smell stronger than ever. My father seemed to hear my footsteps because he turned around and smiled at me. 

“Are you ready for school honey? I made you breakfast! I wanted to make you your favorite food but unfortunately we ran out of meat. But I made pancakes!” he exclaims cheerfully while handing me a plate of pancakes with maple syrup and fruits on top of it. I smile understandingly at him as I grab my plate of pancakes from him and sit down on the table. 

“No worries I’ll go and get more soon papa!” I replied happily as I started eating my pancakes.

TimeSkip

“I’ve finished papa!” I said as I got up and left my plate in the sink and gave my dad a kiss on the cheek as I walked away happily. 

“Have a good day sweetie!” he said before I walked out the door. I live in Sabaneta, Columbia. Not many people live in this small town so everyone knows each other pretty well. Nothing exciting really happens here or atleast, not a good sort of excitement anyway… I kept on walking until I felt a person’s presence behind me. I know who it is. It was one of my friend’s, named Alejandro. Alejandro loves to follow me secretly, I find it hilarious that he thinks he’s so discreet. He’s quite a distinct fellow, if I say so myself. He isn’t aware that I know that he has been stalking me ever since we met. I detest him. He’s like gum on the bottom of my shoe. I just merely tolerate him, only because his stupidity amuses me greatly. So I just keep on walking as if nothing was amiss. His presence got closer and closer and even more closer. Until finally, he wraps his thin arms around my torso and yells out…

“BOO! I scared you right?!” he laughed as I pretended to be spooked by his antics. 

“Hahaha!” I laugh at his foolishness.

“So how have you been, preciosa?~” Alejandro said with a bright smile on his face. I give him a bitter sweet smile.

“Good! But unfortunately, I have a biology test today…” I said with a sad dramatic sigh. 

“I’m sure that you’ll do great at the test Lily! You are a very intelligent girl after all!” he exclaimed with confidence in his deep voice.

“Thank you for your generosity Alejandro” I replied back with a fake smile on my freckled face. Alejandro and I walk to school while talking about trivial things. That was until Gabriel sees us and jogs towards us. Gabriel is my other best friend, he’s the more logical out of us three. To a degree, at least. Ajendardro, Gabriel, and I have been friends for a very long time. I never really considered them as my friends but as little pets instead. If they were animals, Gabriel would be a golden retriever due to his very optimistic personality and energy. While Alejandro is a wolf due to being very possessive and dark personality, even if he tends to hide that part of himself. People in school are obsessed with Alejandro due to his charismatic personality but I loathe it. But to some degree, I do enjoy it just because if anybody dares to mess with me, even the staff itself, he always takes care of them. 

“Alejandro! Lily!” yelled Gabriel. I sweetly waved at his direction, Alejendro waved as well with a tight smile. Alejandro doesn’t really like Gabriel since me and Gabiel have been friends since we were in the womb.

“How are you guys?” Gabriel said with a bright smile. 

“Great until I remembered that I have a test on Biology, unfortunately…” I sighed dramatically. 

“You didn’t study for it?” Gabriel asked as he tilted his head.

“Nope.” I replied back to him nonchalantly as I kept walking. 

“Color me surprised, you never study for anything. I’m honestly surprised that you even have good grades!” he exclaimed as he followed me behind Alejandro. I shrugged until I felt someone’s hand on my right shoulder, it was Alejandro.

“If you want, I can pass you the answers to the test Lily!” he chimed in with rosy cheeks as he looked at me.

“No thank you. If I pass, I pass and if I don’t then I don’t” I replied bluntly. Alejandro repels his hand away from my shoulder with a smile on his face but it was forced. I could tell that I angered him deeply, thankfully he always controls his anger with me. Alejandro, Gabriel, and I started to talk about trivial things like school and activities until Gabriel brought up the disappearances that have been happening in our city. 

“I still can’t believe that the police still haven't been able to find out who is behind all the disappearances of the people here!” he exclaimed as he looked down upon his feet. 

“Yeah, I’m also quite surprised,” Alejandro commented. I nod with a face of worry but deep inside was comepley opposite. I’m the one that is behind the disappearances of these people. My family and I are cannibals. We go around and hunt people down and feast on their corpses. Just thinking about it makes me hungry…

“I hope that the police find the culprit and make justice!” Gabriel states. I nod to his statement while Alejandro looks at me with a smirk. Alejandro knows my secret. He has stalked me enough and taken pictures of me doing these crimes. He can easily go to the police and get me sent to prison. But he doesn’t dare to do that because he is in love with me to ever do it. He isn’t aware that I know that he knows, but in my opinion? It’s for the better. But I still don’t really trust him so I pretend to be interested so that he doesn’t go babbling to the police. Or until I finally get rid of him for good.

“I’ll protect Lily so that no person dares try to hurt her!” Alejandro exclaimed as he hugged me from behind while rubbing his face against my neck. I felt disgusted, livid, unclean, at feeling his vulgar touches. But I turned to him and gave him a very sickly sweet smile.

“Thank you Alejandro! You really are my hero!” I replied as if the words itself were pure honey but with a small touch of poison. We walked all the way to school towards our class, we had the same math class together. We sat down on our assigned seats and listened to Mr. Smith talks about Geometry. 

The classroom was pretty silent despite the fact that Mr. Smith was talking until an announcement came up.

“Good morning to all students, teachers, and staff. I am terribly sorry to announce that the police have found Jose Garcia dead. It seems that the killer has taken another precious life away from us. He was a great, kind student. Let him rest in peace. That is all for today.” 

Everyone started whispering to each other about how they couldn’t believe that the killer had gotten someone from our school. 

“Attention!” Mr. Smith yelled out. The whole classroom become silent and everyone looked up at Mr. Smith. 

“All of you need to be really cautious when walking outside, especially if you're walking by yourself at night. So please when you walk out of school, make sure that you walk with someone.” Everyone nodded slowly, the classroom resumed but I could still hear people whispering to each other. 

[infernalrevenge]

Nerves to the Nines

Fandom: Resident Evil 8: Village

Pairing: Alcina Dimitrescu x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Rating: T (for negative self-talk in some parts)

Summary: Reader is attending the Gathering of Lords with Alcina and is too nervous to even dress themself properly. Luckily, their lover is here to save the day.

Notes: I have no idea if Alcina may be OOC here, just know that I love the thought of very powerful and intimidating people being soft and protective only for those they love, and that's partly what spawned this thing. That, and the idea of how intimate it is to have your significant other help you get dressed for an important event (that I completely made up for the sake of this fic.)

Also thank you so much for 50 followers :D May not be a big number, but it's more than I expected when I started writing here a few months ago haha

----------

Two hours to go before the Gathering of Lords.

You went through the mental checklist as you assessed yourself in the mirror. Hair done, make-up done, clothes... well, most of them were on.

You wanted to dress to impress, but not stand out either. A black button up rested on your frame and loose wide-legged pants to match, where your cream-colored shoes peeked out from the bottom. The burgundy blazer you were going to wear over it was hung in front of your closet, and the white rose you would pin onto the lapel sat on the vanity.

It was meant to be an inverse of Alcina's usual attire. She was going to bring a burgundy shawl as well to complement the outfit. Daniela said it would look cute.

But right now, the idea of wearing an extra layer was unwanted. You were too warm right now, and the last thing you wanted was to sweat through your clothes. Everything had to be perfect -- you had to be perfect, lest you sully the "good name of House Dimitrescu" in front of your lover's siblings, and Mother Miranda.

You knew how important tonight was to Alcina, and she wanted you to be a part of it all. She was looking forward to it as much as you and the girls were; when Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela were told they could come, they immediately squealed and started chattering away with you about what they were going to do, what to wear, what you were going to wear, and seemed to already have everything planned in their heads. Their excitement rubbed off on you for the rest of the week, and the happy jitters only got more intense with every passing day.

But the closer the time got to leaving for the Gathering, the more those jitters made you feel like throwing up.

You sat in front of the mirror and idly fiddled with your unbuttoned sleeve cuff, feeling the nerves of tonight bundling up in your chest. One leg bounced under the table impatiently; you had to get the energy out somehow.

You want to go, you reminded yourself. You wanted to go. You still want to go... right? You had been looking forward to this all week, of course you want to go. Just pull yourself together. You took in a deep breath and clapped your hands together.

Wait, when did they get so sweaty? If you tried to shake anyone's hand, they'd be weirded out and disgusted. How can you get it to stop? This is so stupid, why are you worried about sweaty hands all of a sudden?! Control yourself, idiot! This was not the time to worry about such trivial matters, but why did it feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest? It's going so fast, you started to wonder what it could be running from.

This was a mistake, you shouldn't go. You'll just embarrass yourself, and Alcina, and you can't handle that kind of pressure. The scrutiny you'll be under would be crushing, you could practically feel the air getting sucked out of you. This was a mistake, this was a mistake.

You undid the buttons on your shirt, ready to take it off. Just say you don't feel well, that's a good enough excuse. This was a mistake, this was a mistake--

"Y/N, are you alright?" You heard her voice in your room, and she had already ducked inside by the time you turned around. You sucked in a sharp breath.

I'm not feeling well, I think I should stay home.

The lie you had concocted got stuck in your throat as you looked up into her golden eyes, clearly concerned. You didn't want to worry her. You wanted to go. You did.

Instead, you swallowed it and tried to keep your voice steady, "Yeah, yes. I'm just, I'm having a bit of trouble with..."

You looked down at your fully opened shirt, gulping again. "I can't..." Why won't your hands stop shaking?

"What's wrong, my love?"

Alcina was standing at full height, and to any other person, having her look down at you like this might have felt condescending -- an effort to exert power and establish authority. But somehow, being under her shadow in what had felt like a bright room... it was comforting. Just to know she was there, physically. To know that she saw you as you were at the moment, trying to be brave.

"I'm just... nervous, that's all," you finally managed to admit, and it felt like a weight had just been lifted off your shoulders. You relaxed only a fraction though, remembering what the night was going to bring.

In about an hour and a half.

She sat down on your bed, her knees tucked in a bit considering its height. "Perhaps if we talk, you can settle your nerves." She presented the space in front of her, as if she knew you couldn't bring yourself to sit at the moment.

You started rolling the button on your cuff between your fingers, your arm close to your chest like you were trying to protect yourself. From what, you weren't sure.

"What are you nervous about?" she spoke softly, quite a contrast from the usual commanding tone she took on when she spoke to almost everyone else. "Are you worried about not looking right? Because I assure you, darling, you look wonderful -- you deserve nothing less than the best."

"No, I... well it was your idea for us to dress like this, so no, that's not... what I'm worried about." You looked up from under your lashes. Her eyes were still focused on you. You wanted to squirm, and your next words came out softer than you wanted them to.

"I just... don't wanna mess up."

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear you." If you were any other person, she might have lost her temper at your mumbling. You almost flinched at the thought, but you knew she would never. Not with you.

"I-I don't want to mess up." You said a little louder as you folded your hands, one holding onto the other wrist. "You know, like, in front of your siblings, in front of... Mother Miranda... I'm afraid of embarrassing myself in front of them."

She frowned and leaned forward, "What could you possibly do that would embarrass me?"

You shrugged, wanting to shrink in on yourself. "I don't know, I might say something weird or do something that'll seem off, or just, I'm not sure. Something's probably gonna go wrong. Maybe even being myself is embarrassing enough," you joked.

"Darling, you are not embarrassing," she assured. You didn't know if she knew that you meant it as a joke, but she said it with such sincerity that it pulled some of that weight off you once more. It brought a small smile to your face.

"Do you not want to go anymore?" she asked worriedly, and you snapped your head up at that.

"No, I want to!" You answered so fast that Alcina seemed surprised but definitely not displeased

"I'm excited to go, I really am. I'm just not sure if I'm, like, ready to face the others. I wanna go, but I don't know, I can't explain it, I just don't want things to go badly because it'll reflect on you and your daughters and I know how much you want to be in Mother Miranda's favor so I--"

She took your wrist without a word, so gentle in her handling that you barely noticed it at first, and you trailed off. Her fingers fixed up your loosened cuff -- oh, right. Any more stubborn fiddling with it and you would've taken the button right off its threads. She did the same with the other cuff, a calm yet unreadable expression on her painted face.

When she finished, she gently smoothed your hair down, traced your jawline with a finger and tilted your chin up to look at her. "If you're worried about what everyone else would think, I understand. But you are my significant other, my lover. I trust that you'll be wonderful, so know that at least one person there believes in you."

It felt like you were really seeing her for the first time that night, looking so proud when she talked about you. She took the opportunity to fix the rest of your outfit, buttoning up your shirt once more, and kept talking to ease your mind.

"Don't ever doubt me, Y/N, because I've seen you at both your best and your worst, and your best is more than enough for tonight. If they can't see that, then it's their loss, not yours."

You could feel her words physically calming you, heartbeat steadying as you saw the loving gleam in her eyes.

The lady sauntered over to your closet, taking your blazer and handing it over to you. "Now, I believe you're missing a piece, my dear." You hadn't even noticed until then that she was already wearing her shawl. A gentle smile finally broke through your facade as you pulled it on in front of the mirror.

Alcina stood behind, laying her hands on your shoulders when you seemed satisfied. "A perfect match," she cooed, leaning down to face you, so close that you could feel her breath against the shell of your ear. "Wouldn't you say?" You could feel your heart racing again, but it wasn't from any nerves this time.

But before anything could be done about it, the moment was interrupted by multiple knocks on the door, followed by a loud thud. "Mother, Y/N, we're ready!" Bela called out from the other side, fussing over her sisters immediately afterwards. "May we come in?"

Alcina raised an eyebrow at you, a smirk playing on her lips. "Well? We shouldn't keep them waiting."

You felt loosened up for the first time that night, ready to face anything with Alcina by your side. You pinned the rose in place and took one last glance in the mirror. "We could always be fashionably late."

[bakugohoex]

“really, again?”

pairings: atsumu miya x female reader, hajime iwaizumi x female reader and tetsuro kuroo x female reader

cw: aged up, language, nsfw (breeding kink, nipple play, hair pulling, fucking (obvs), slight expeditionist)

word count: 1900+

a/n: i promise, my requests will start being done soon, i know i always promise this, but i had this idea cause i found it funny sorry

summary: in which you find yourself being fucked senseless by your favourite boy, an interruption occurs to you never gaining the release you need

↞ back to haikyu!! masterlist

atsumu miya

“Such a good little cumslut for me.” He groaned into your ear; your day had blurred into this one single moment. How you had come to see Atsumu whilst he was at practice bringing cupcakes you had made at work and here you were in the MSBY changing rooms being fucked onto the lockers.

“Atsumu.” You moaned as his thrusts became quicker and harder. Almost being able to see him indent his lengthy cock in your stomach. “I need to cum.” You moaned into his ear, your legs had been wrapped around his waist, your shirt unbuttoned, and his shirt being chucked to the side.

Maybe a quickie wasn't a good idea, especially with the threat of his team mates coming in at any second. “Come on slut, let me cum with you.” His thrusts continued, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt him grip your ass. You knew you’d be able to see the indent of his nail afterwards, which would make him horny and fuck you again.

“Such a dirty little thing, coming here wearing that for my teammates to see.” He muttered in your ear, leaving breathless kisses along your neck. It felt intoxicating with his hand massaging your nipples that he loved so much, in this short time, Atsumu had already sucked on them and left bites all around your breasts. You could feel your cum coil up inside of you ready to cream all over his cock, but the sound of chatters had gotten louder, and the sight of the door opening had made the situation a lot worse.

“Yeah, i saw Y/n and Atsumu come out of the gy…” Bokuto trailed off seeing how your whole body was practically on show and Atsumu’s cock had been stuffed inside of you. 

Sakusa looked between the two of you shrugging and spoke, “really again?” He had caught you multiple times fucking and had gotten used to it going to his locker and grabbing some wipes and spray to clean the surface. He had kept some not only for his own hygiene but for moments like this. 

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper trying to cover yourself with Atsumu who had stopped thrusting and had a grin on his face. 

Hinata and Bokuto both looked between the two of you, Atsumu’s cock just being out without a care in the world, “if you guys wanted to watch we’d have let you.”

“Atsumu.” You scowl as you try to find your clothes, seeing the discarded bra and shirt, you wear it trying to find the skirt that had been thrown away. 

“Here.” Sakusa wearing gloves had picked up the skirt and passed it to you. You could feel the heat rush to your face, this was embarrassing, it had been fine when Sakusa had seen it because he genuinely didn't care but Bokuto and Hinata were another story. They were like brothers to you and now they had seen you stretched out by Atsumu’s cock how would they ever forget that.

Bokuto was the first to pipe up at Atsumu, “I always thought you were lying about doing it in here.”

“That’s what i was going to say.” Hinata happily remarked, they really did share one brain cell. “I totally thought he was lying; she’d never do it here.”

“That must mean he was lying about doing it in the airport then.” Your eyes widened having remembered having done it in the airport. 

“Atsumu what the fuck?” You scowl at the boy who had composed himself putting his clothes back on. 

He gives a smirk before speak, “I may have told them that we fuck...a lot.”

“Stupid brat, we’re not fucking anymore if you think we do it too much.” You grab your bag having left the cupcakes about to walk away.

Atsumu spoke lowly a fuck even though he knew that in a couple hours you’d be in bed in those pretty laced lingerie he had bought. Waiting for him to fuck your pretty little cunt into you cum moaning his name. 

hajime iwaizumi

Your legs were pushed against your frame, his cock thrusting back and forth as you could feel how your slick dribbled from your cunt. Iwaizumi had just come back from training the national team and he was stressed. Being the amazing girlfriend you are, you’d sit waiting for him in nothing, but a skimpy green lingerie set, at the sight of you he had grabbed your wrists taking you to your bed.

Here you were, in a mating press as you could feel his cock go even deeper inside of you. “Hajime, c...cum please.” A soft moan came from your lips as you felt his body press against your own, every deep thrust making your mind go wild. 

“Come on baby, let me go deeper.” He whispered his mouth on your nipples, sucking and biting at them. His tongue swirled around the tit making a heavy moan come from your mouth. 

It was supposed to be simple, a quickie before he would go shower and then join you on the sofa to cuddle. But the more his cock felt your velvety walls the more he needed more, one more thrust kept going through his head, one more and then he’d let you cum, but it kept occurring. Every thrust increased in pace, before the sound of something was heard behind him.

“Surpr…” The sound of a glass dropping startled both of you, “Iwa-chan.” Oikawa shouted, turning around to not see him take his cock out of you.

“What are you doing here, Shittykawa?” You knew Oikawa was coming back from Argentina for a short visit, you both had even offered your place for him. 

“I caught an early flight.” He muttered and still turned around. You quickly got up wearing a hoodie and trying to find your underwear. Iwaizumi passed it, giving a small scowl at how Oikawa had ruined the moment. “Really, again.”

You were confused at the comment before he continued, “Hinata told me about how you two can’t keep your eyes off of each other, it’s eye fucking in his eyes.” 

“Maybe if you had called before you wouldn't have seen it.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, putting his clothes back on.

You laugh at the two of them, “don't be mean Hajime, where’s your stuff Oikawa, I'll show you to your room.”

“Always the nice one Y/n-chan.” You laugh as you step over the broken glass, “fix that for us Iwa-chan.”

Oikawa pointed to the glass, you laughed before dragging him away before Hajime threw the boy out of the apartment. “How did you even get inside?”

“The door was unlocked; you should really lock it when you’re fucking.” You shook your head; Iwaizumi had been in such a hurry to take you into the room that he had forgotten to lock it.

You shrugged at least knowing that you had a very big impact on the boy to forget something as trivial as that, “how was your flight?”

“You're going to ask me that when I just saw your boyfriend balls deep inside of you.” He mocked as you pushed his side.

“I’m being nice.” He pouts but it seemed like he was enjoying teasing you. 

“Shut up Oikawa.” You mutter as he drags his bags along.

He laughs before seeing Iwaizumi come beside you having cleaned the glass. He watches how you touch his fingers making sure the boy wasn't hurt and if any glass had scratched him. “You both really are in love.” He almost says it in disgust but with a tone of admiration, it was a love he admired about the two of you, having dated for years now you both were destined to be together. And he knew everybody could see it. 

tetsuro kuroo

The sound of the moans came from inside his office, the way the papers he had been stapling were now discarded on the floor and on his desk were your breasts pushed against the wooden top. His cock deep inside as his hand had wrapped your hair to make a makeshift ponytail for him to pull.

“You didn't expect me to not fuck you.” He toyed, you had only come to ask if he wanted to get lunch, but Kuroo had other ideas, having pushed everything off his desk for you to be pushed against. 

His cock thrusted back and forth, a quickened pace to get you both to cum, “Tets…” You could barely breathe as each jolt brought about a moan and muffles from your mouth.

“Look at you, a mess just for me.” He pulled at your hair, making you look up at the empty chairs in front of his desk. His jacket lay on the floor as you knew his trousers and belt were to the floor. He had seen you in the tight dress that made your breasts spill out and had to ravage you at that moment. “You gonna say something then, whore.”

“Sir, please...let me cum.” You could feel yourself build up the liquid ready to gush right onto his blushed cock. 

“You’ve been a bad little slut, coming in here wearing that.” His thrusts had gotten deeper with every word. You moaned his name loudly, wanting to feel him breed your body till you were filled up with him.

“Hey Kuro…” Kuroo’s eyes had widened, in an instant he let go of your hair, your body pressed against his desk hiding your sore breasts. You saw Kenma having walked in with his game in his hand, he was able to see the curve of your ass and Kuroo’s cock right between your legs. “Really, again?”

Kenma had seen you both sneak off multiple times to fuck in the years he’d known you. He turned around going back to his game without a word. “Kuroo get out of me.”

“What? I can’t finish in you.” He smirked his hand grasping your ass.

“Mood’s ruined.” He took his cock out, feeling your slick drip out from your cunt and off his cock. Finding your clothes, you quickly wore it as Kuroo sorted himself out, “I’ll see you at home.” You went to kiss his cheek, but he moved for you to kiss his lips. His soft plump lips that you had missed so very much, but in again Kenma interrupted the moment.

“Get a room you two.” Kenma had returned his eyes still fixated on the game, he moved further inside as you rolled your eyes going up to the boy. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll see you at home, bye Kenma.” You touched his shoulder as the boy smiled at you before he turned back to his game. He was always a sweet kid, having watched the two of you form a relationship, he was always glad you were the one to have taken Kuroo’s heart. Even if he hated seeing you both want to fuck each other 24/7, it was love, obsessive love, but love.

Kuroo watched you leave, if only you had arrived a couple minus earlier, he would’ve been able to cum right inside of your pretty little cunt. “What are you doing here?” Kuroo spoke, collecting the papers that had flooded the floor.

“You said to meet you here for lunch.” Kuroo had forgotten the invitation to go to lunch with his best friend, you had preoccupied him, and he had become unaware of what was even occurring. “Lunch?” Kenma questioned not caring about the previous events anymore.

“Yeah, yeah come on.” He muttered grabbing his jacket and leading the boy away from the sex swept room. 

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world @chrrylevi @katsuhera @answer-the-sirens @animexholic @wapbenders @the-shota-king-masayuki @bakugousmrs @crystal-lilac​

[mittensmorgul]

Incoming sad rant about the spn ending. Don't read if you're not interested in reading something like that, but I literally don't know anyone in real life I can talk about this with, and I really need an outlet:

Sometimes I can put the way SPN ended out of my head and think "it's just a stupid show. I don't have to accept the finale, and the writers/network are wrong." But other times I just get gripped with really intense sadness at the disrespect that was done to my favorite characters. To the point where I'll sit still for hours a day, just wallowing in it. It ruins my whole day and mood. And then I think to myself "I'll just find some other stories that end better!" but then I get sad again, cuz I don't think I will ever love other characters as much as I love Dean and Cas, and then I spiral again thinking about all the potential this unique beautiful love story had, and how we're never going to get the closure we deserve.

I really hate that after all this time, I'm a grown ass adult getting sad over fictional characters. I know it's not that trivial, but I sometimes wish it was so I could get over it 😞

Hi hi, and first of all *socially distanced internet hugs* I’m sorry you don’t have an outlet, but you’re always welcome to chat with me (if you come off anon we can talk privately if you want. My DM’s are always open, even when it takes me a bit to reply. no one should have to feel alone in this.)

I’m actually gonna start at the bottom of your message and work my way up, because I also, as a grown-ass adult, get sad over fictional characters. And I need to emphasize that this is the *point* of fiction. A well-written and developed fictional character is *indistinguishable in our minds from an actual real human being.* The way we react to them *feels exactly the same to our brains and bodies* as how we react to real people, and that’s a testament to just how well developed Dean and Cas were in canon.

I am not a young person. I have engaged with a lot of media over my life, and have *never* felt this strongly about fictional characters before, so I understand what you mean when you struggle to think about finding another story that ended better, or struggle to think about finding other characters you might become this attached to or experience this sort of emotional investment in. And I think there is another factor you didn’t consider there: The vast majority of other media I have engaged with, I was able to relate to on a level of “oh that’s nice for them” or “wow that sucks for them.” I have never, and possibly never will again, feel so utterly invested in fictional characters, to the point where it affects my real life as much as Supernatural has. Period.

I will likely never experience *literal physical lovesickness* over two fictional characters ever again. I hadn’t ever experienced it *in my own real life* before, and yet 15.18 triggered all those symptoms in me. As an aromantic person, this was pretty shocking to me. It also says a lot about just how real these characters feel to us, and how important they have become to us. They make us feel this! This is not an accident. It’s *incredibly difficult* to create fictional characters with this range and depth of emotional connection, and yet here we are.

I think that’s the biggest evidence possibly to present in defense of the statement that THIS IS NOT JUST SOME STUPID SHOW.

Other evidence: this fandom, still going strong after 15 years. Look at every SPN convention for proof. Look at AO3, where there are more posted stories about Dean and Cas than literally any other pairing on the planet (by a not-small margin, too). If that isn’t enough evidence, we have fanart to look at as well. Look through @theroadsofararchive where at the time of this posting there are over 40,000 artworks catalogued, and more being added all the time. Same with @canonspngifs where you can search through through nearly 75,000 gifsets organized by an excellent tagging system and made by dedicated fans out of love for the thing. This is all proof that you are not alone, that so many of us care just as deeply about them as you do. Not even mentioning the people who have written hundreds of millions of words of meta, articles, and even masters theses and doctoral dissertations on Supernatural and the fandom. This is a unique thing, even within the larger fandom culture. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that your feelings for it are stupid or irrelevant or wrong.

But also don’t let anyone try to convince you that you must accept the finale as part of the story if you don’t want to. Don’t even let *yourself* believe that if you don’t want to. This show has done more to play with the themes of “what is reality” and “who gives a story meaning” and alternate universes and curses and djinn dreams to easily account for whatever the heck the finale was.

my current go-to theory: everything after Chuck’s defeat takes place in the Mockumentary Alternate Universe... it fits way too uncomfortably well... and then I just apply the fic I received in a cosmic transmission from the actual supernatural universe wrote detailing the events of what *I* hoped would transpire afterward. I know this doesn’t work for everyone, but it works for me, mostly because it *has* to. It means far too much to me not to.

You are not alone in having invested yourself into this story, and these characters. Your feelings about them are not wrong or stupid or frivolous. And the proof is everyone else who feels the same exact way, who connected to this story (and to each other through this story), and whose lives have been forever altered through this journey together. The fact that Dabb turned out to have been Chuck Junior and couldn’t see (or was prevented from showing us) what Team Free Will would’ve chosen to do with that after defeating their original creator just stands to prove to me that the finale can’t possibly be The Truth, you know?

I don’t know if any of this will help you, or provide you some small comfort right now, but maybe it will eventually. We’re all processing the loss of the show and the abject failure of story that was the finale in different ways, and I’m sure our emotional reactions will shift over time. It was just A Lot to process all in the span of a few incredibly emotional weeks-- not even mentioning how all of that emotional response was compounded by the american elections and surrounding nonsense, the general stress of enduring a global pandemic and all that entails, and *waves hands around broadly at everything else contributing to the trauma occurring in the collective of humankind right now.* We’ve all been emotionally compromised, so be kind to yourself in how you feel you’re coping with it all.

And know that no matter what, you are not alone in how you’re feeling. The grief is real, and our brains don’t care if it’s felt for fictional characters or real people. This was honestly a once in a lifetime experience for a lot of us, and not even the wtf of the finale can kill it for us if we don’t let it. I reject that particular piece of rusty rebar and choose to believe in a just and narratively coherent resolution. To do anything less feels like dishonoring the story and characters who have drawn me in and made me feel so much for them over the years. If the story itself couldn’t honor them properly, then I can choose to do so myself.

<3

[belphegor1982]

not sure if you're doing the prompt list, but parenthood (6) with leonard snart and janet? 👉👈 i'm in love with your characterizations of len and his wife 💕

It took me two weeks, but there it is :D

Parenthood (DCAU)

When she’d been a kid, Janet had – very naturally – assumed that her adult life would match her parents’, or their neighbours: a house, a husband, a dog, a white picket fence, not necessarily in that order. And kids. Like an afterthought, something not really important so much as vaguely necessary.

She hadn’t thought about it until a couple of years or so into her and Len’s marriage. They’d had somewhat rocky beginnings: she’d been fierce, he’d been grumpy, and they’d both been so damn young they hadn’t seen how ridiculous they were, dancing around each other like they weren’t sure they were allowed this… that. ‘Relationship’ was too big a word. Whatever they had, though, they had kept, because it was good and it was theirs. One day it had hit Janet that Len basically only went back to his crappy little apartment to shower; one night they’d been in bed, sweaty and tired and stupid happy, and as Janet reached for the book on her bedside table afterwards while Len scribbled on his ‘heist ideas’ notebook like he’d been struck with sudden inspiration, she had realised in a rush that she wanted the rest of her life to be like this.

“Wanna get married, one of these days?” she’d asked, almost not nervous at all.

Len had stared at her long enough to make her start to regret asking. Then he’d given a small smile, the very rare sort that showed in his eyes.

“Sure,” he’d said, and that was that.

They’d gotten married six months later. Janet wore blue. Her parents showed up, despite the disapproval hanging thick in the air – her father convinced that she could ‘do a lot better than a thug’, her mother ice-cold at the thought of her daughter marrying ‘some two-bit crook’. Len had only invited his sister, a stunning young blonde who’d been friendly to Janet but still appeared put-out that the invitation didn’t extend to her boyfriend.

“He’s a jerk,” Len had said later, making Janet laugh.

“You’re a jerk, Len.”

“Not the same kind. He’s stuck-up. Lisa’s too good for him anyway.”

“Yeah, well. That’s not up to you to decide, is it? It’s your sister’s choice.”

“I know, I just… She deserves better. Better than she got as a kid.”

Janet had looked at him, long and careful, suddenly a little tense.

“Do you think she’s… not safe? With him?”

Len had blinked, then shaken his head.

“Nah, nothin’ like that. You can tell Dillon’s actually good to her. Nothing like…” He had trailed off, something hard and cold and sudden in his eyes like someone had slammed closed a pair of shutters. That had only lasted for ten seconds before he’d shrugged. “I just wish he wasn’t such a dick, that’s all.”

Then he’d abruptly changed the subject, and Janet had followed, because she knew precarious ground when she saw it.

* * * *

Living with someone in the intimate way meant noticing a lot of things about them, more or less willingly.

Len had cottoned on pretty early to her tendency to snap when she was tired or angry, and of holding nothing back then. She also caught him looking at the crisscross pattern of scar tissue on her knuckles from when she’d punched a wall, repeatedly, after the girl who’d been her best friend in school was battered to death by her boyfriend. “I only slapped her around a bit,” the bastard had said, and ten years later Janet still wished that she’d had the guts to punch him instead. She’d finally told Len about it one day, and seen his face go stone and his eyes ice. His cold fury had been comforting.

It went both ways. She noticed things about her husband, too. Like some odd scars she had a feeling he hadn’t picked up in juvie, the trace of a cigarette burn in the hollow of his right shoulder, or the mark – still chillingly precise even years later – of a belt buckle in the small of his back. She wondered whether Lisa had similar scars. Not that she’d ask. She and her sister-in-law didn’t have that kind of relationship.

Janet had a past. Len had a past. That was what being human meant. Sometimes that felt more like dragging a corpse through the dust wherever you went than a happy set of picture-perfect memories, but it was part of the whole package.

The major reason Janet didn’t entertain the idea of kids for longer than a passing thought was because she didn’t want any – for the moment, she told herself, even as she kept forgetting to really think about it. She’s grown up with the distinct impression that she hadn’t been wanted, or had come at an inconvenient time to her parents. The last thing she wanted was to make a kid feel like that.

The lesser reason was everything Len wasn’t saying. He wasn’t crazy about opening up about things either important or trivial, though he did anyway because they both liked to get their point across clearly. But she’d never, ever heard him say anything at all about his life before he’d struck out on his own, a couple of years short of eighteen years old. His sister Lisa was six years younger, and that was all Janet knew. Family, parents, home life – Len didn’t let anything slip. This, combined with the scars and a few odd reactions, carefully hidden under a lot of attitude, told her more than he appeared willing to share.

One day, when he’d been nicely mellowed out by a good score and a shared bottle of the good stuff to celebrate, she had asked him, “Do you ever think about having kids?”

The split-second look he’d given her still haunted her to this day. She had seen him angry, she had seen him silent, cheerful and surly and balking at house chores, but it hadn’t crossed her mind that he could ever be afraid.

“No,” he’d answered curtly. “Why?”

“Just wondering. Kevin from logistics just had his third the other day. Kept asking me when I’d finally get started on my own.”

“Kevin from logistics needs to mind his own damn business.”

“That’s what I told him,” said Janet, and Len smirked. “Anyway, he got me thinking. Turns out I don’t think I want kids. You know, at all.”

The relief on his face was as fleeting as the fear, but just as stark.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like what we have.” A pause. “You’ve really never thought about having kids one day?”

“Sure I did, once – for about five seconds. Weirdest five seconds of my life.”

She’d given him a look, half amused, half a smile. Relax, Len. You’re not getting interrogated.

“That bad?”

“Look, I don’t… Kids are weird, all right? Adults I can deal with. Besides, all I know is how not to be a father. No way I’m risking—no way.”

That was as close as he ever came to telling her why she’d never even heard Snart Sr.’s first name. But it was enough. They closed the subject and moved on to other things.

* * * *

And then it turned out that Metropolis and Gotham were not the only cities that could boast an actual superhero, because Central City quickly became aware of a lean, young-looking man in a red costume who called himself the Flash and went after burglars and thieves with superhuman speed. Whoever he was, whatever he was, he added an element of danger to her husband’s chosen profession, and Janet took an instant dislike to him and his big smug smile. Then she dismissed him from her mind quickly enough.

Len, though, was a very different story.

While he didn’t like the Flash any more than Janet did, the guy’s addition to the tried-and-true equation of cops and robbers added an edge that hadn’t been present before. Having an actual superhero in town made all of Len’s old research on absolute zero – and tinkering in the basement – not only relevant but useful. He designed a ‘cold gun’ from plans he’d stolen years ago, looking more excited than Janet had seen him in the last eight years, and worked hard to ‘up his game’.

Privately, Janet thought that, for a man who claimed to be as serious about his trade as Len did, creating a brand-new persona complete with parka, visor, and goofy moniker was hilarious.

Not that she ever actually laughed at him. Especially not the one time Len came back from a heist with an armful of cash and a weird look on his face.

“He’s a kid, Jan,” he said when Janet had asked him what could be wrong when he’d clearly got away with the loot unscathed. “He’s a goddamn kid. I don’t think he’s even old enough to drink.”

“What the hell is he playing at, then?” she exclaimed. “This job is not kid’s stuff! What was he thinking, that he could waltz in and play Superman, just like that?”

“I don’t know.” Len took off his visor and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then his eyes hardened. “And I don’t care. I like my job. If this guy thinks he can stop me, then he’d better be prepared to try harder.”

“I got him good today, though,” he said hours later, in the small hours of the night, after Janet’s hands had searched for his, cool and calloused, under the covers.

Something tensed inside in the region of her stomach.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“Of course not,” he snapped, looking annoyed that she’d even ask. Janet’s guts relaxed. “I’m a crook, not a murderer. Besides, you know the second someone offs that guy, Superman or another big hero is gonna show up and turn the city inside out in revenge. It’d be like when a cop gets killed. They close ranks and start shooting indiscriminately.”

“So when you say you ‘got him good’ –”

“I just sent him packin’. Didn’t rough him up more than I would a cop. The kid’s got a mean right hook but he has no idea how real cold works, speed or no speed.”

Janet closed her eyes again and murmured, “Maybe he’ll quit, then.”

“Maybe.” Even half-asleep, she could tell that this ‘maybe’ meant ‘fat chance’.

“So… on the off-chance that today didn’t put him off, what are you gonna do?”

“I was thinking I might hit Drake & Hall Savings on Infantino Street next month.”

“I meant about the Flash.”

Len’s voice was low but certain when he said, “Me too. I’ll just keep doing my job, and if this joker is as serious as he claims to be, he’ll keep trying to stop me. But I’m not gonna drop everything just because of a kid in a onesie and a mask. I’ll just have to find ways to slow him down.”

The last thought that coalesced in Janet’s mind just before she nodded off was Did my husband just become a supervillain?

She fell asleep before the laugh passed her lips.

* * * *

While ‘supervillain’ might have been stretching things – not to mention the word made Janet choke up on laughter – Len’s new approach to the job was certainly different from the one he’d had before the Flash came along. He still refused the label, though, arguing that supervillains had powers, costumes, and delusions of grandeur, while he just had a cold gun, a parka, and banks to rob.

“Okay,” said Janet when she was in a ribbing mood, “what’s the Joker’s power, then?”

This usually earned her a deadpan look.

At least Len didn’t remain the only crook with a gimmick and an eccentric costume for long. Soon her husband had colleagues, fellow not-supervillains, some of whom not only willing to work together but also seemed to actually appreciate it. Their ‘powers’ were not innate, nor did they get them in freaky accidents; like Len, they either stole tech or were savvy enough to design it. And they all rejected the label of ‘supervillain’.

They were ‘rogues’. Or rather, Rogues. And Len – who knows why – took the place of the de facto leader.

Of her husband’s coworkers, Janet got on with Mick Rory the best. She liked his even temper, his slight smile, and the fact that he generally found it easy to keep a level head. Digger Harkness was his exact opposite, and her whole life she could never quite shake off the urge to slap him whenever he opened his mouth. The others were scattered along the scale between those two extremes: some were never quite sure what to do with her (or she with them – apart from making sure the old couch in the basement could be slept on and keeping an eye on their quickly-dwindling stock of coffee and beer packs), while others were more accommodating about having to spend time with ‘Len’s missus’.

One day Janet caught James pilfering one of the cookies she’d baked herself for the next night she’d have to spend alone. He looked so terrified at being caught red-handed that she refrained from rolling her eyes and told him to help himself and share with his musician friend.

She drew the line at pointing out Hartley was too skinny, though. Just because the young man was friendly and polite and, indeed, looked rather underfed didn’t mean she had any right to turn into her Aunt Debbie. She’d rather die first. Besides, she wasn’t the kid’s nanny, was she?

Nevertheless, the cookies proved a success. Like the couch in the basement, like the stocking up on beer packs, like the occasional patching-up of scrapes not serious enough to warrant a trip to the hospital, they surreptitiously became a habit.

* * * *

Over the years, Janet Snart slid smoothly into middle-age never regretting once her decision not to have children. Turned out being a woman, a wife, a friend, and a sometimes kind-of-support to a bunch of Rogues was quite enough.

Parenthood was overrated, anyway.

______________

Hope you liked, @orion-nottson 💜

Timeline notes thingy: Janet and Len met when they were about 25-27 and got married a couple of years later. ‘Dillon’ is of course Roscoe Dillon, the Top, who has a blink-and-you-miss-it cameo in the JLU episode with the Rogues, but since I don’t want to kill him or Lisa, I’m thinking he was her ice skating trainer, they fell in love, and didn’t go into villainy.

Wally was the first Flash of this universe - maybe the second and Jay was a superhero in the 1940s? - since he says “my uncle’s flying in” for the ceremony. Also, when he first pops up in this story he’s not quite 16, while Len is a bit over 30.

...I really overthink these things, huh 😅

[birdwonder]

Hey, I was just wondering could you do a Phantom Blood Dio x female reader where they sneak around everyone's backs to be together and pretend they don't get along when with others? Thank you and have a wonderful day.

|| Love the request ! This is going to be set before Dio puts on the stone mask and George’s death, but both he, Joseph and the reader are young adults.

Phantom Blood Dio | Behind Closed Doors

“Come now, Dio, certainly Lady [L/N] isn’t as irksome as you claim her to be,” the calm yet mildly concerned voice of George Joestar spoke, a heavy sigh following his speech as the stubborn frown upon Dio Brando’s lips refused to falter or leave.

The blond crossed his arms tightly around his chest, refusing to directly face the man that he had taken in him despite his need to show him the upmost respect.  “I have told you repeatedly father, that ... impudent girl has no tact nor manners to her high end name! She is a thorn in my side no matter how pretty her petals may be.” He spoke with such disdain and venom in his voice that he would believe the older man to be brain dead to not understand how he felt about you.

The ageing father of both Joseph Joestar and Dio Brando pinched the bridge of his nose slightly, a hand gripping his cane as he tried to recall exactly when the feud between [F/N] and Dio had came to be. 

“But father! I don’t want to be betrothed to some girl I’ve never met,” a younger, yet still just as well mannered as now, Dio complained, internally retching at the idea that George was attempting to have him marry some unacquainted, noble child who was probably as juvenile and pretentious as all the other high standing  sons and daughters he had met through his adopted father’s parties.

“Dio I am only doing this so that finding someone to wed won’t be a concern in the future,” his father attempted to explain, placing a gentle hand on the teenager’s shoulder, “you have shown no interest in any other young females that you have met, or in finding someone to love at all!”

With a huff, Dio continued to desperately convey why an arranged marriage was out of the question, “what if I wholeheartedly dislike her, hm? What if she talks too loud or flirts with other men behind my back or doesn’t even like me?”

“None of which will happen, Dio. Lady [F/N] is a polite, upstanding girl who is always happy to greet me when I visit her family’s home. Imagine coming home from work to a beautiful, welcoming smile? I’m sure that’s any man’s dream.” 

The blond quietly scoffed, as to not insult his father directly, and refused to listen to any more reasoning. George did nothing to pester him further however, a bright smile on his mouth as he gestured towards the door of their home where a butler was approaching and starting to open. “No matter, she should be here now! Look smart now, Dio, and do try to smile a little.”

Dio was not ready to be meeting her right now. Or at any point in time for that matter, but especially not now. With slightly widened, golden eyes he glanced over to see that the doors were now open and two figures were entering. A woman who was definitely close to George’s age, if not a few years younger, and a man around the same age too, both dressed as fine as aristocrats as if they were attending a meeting with the queen. ‘Rich people. Too much money for their own good,’ Dio thought, looking the presumed couple with a hidden disgust. 

“Ah, if it isn’t the great [L/N]’s! Looking as dashing as ever,” George greeted with open arms, only to then shake the man’s hand with a hearty laugh and ‘good day’ , afterwards politely kissing the woman’s gloved hand. 

“I’m sorry if we have kept you long, our little flower was a little difficult to convince to come, I think it’s just a young woman’s time where she’s too bashful to talk to a man face to face,” the woman joked, a light-hearted look and sound to her as she side stepped from her husband, hands moved to gently push a third person in front of her.

There, stood in a neutral pink frock, was a fairly beautiful girl, hair pinned, neatly teased and brushed back to be styled into a perfect bun, with the small  exception of a few strands purposefully let loose to carefully frame the delicate face of a young lady. Her eyes seemed to travel anywhere but somebody’s face, as her hands laced in front of her fiddled tenuously. 

Even with an averted gaze, Dio could tell that her eyes had a pretty look to them, though he couldn’t tell if it was the colour or how long her lashes were, or if it was even something as trivial as her eye shape altogether. No. It couldn’t be any of it! She was just some girl, nothing about her was special at all!

“This is [F/N], our little diamond girl, she is so enthusiastic to be meeting your son, Dio. I can already tell the two of them will be make for a great pair!” The man introduced, something Dio was quick to disagree with in his head. He hadn’t so much as made eye contact with the girl yet and they assume they would be perfect, how stupid.

After some encouraging from her parents to say hello, she finally looked directly at the other teenager, eyes scanning him from his shoes all to way to the top of his head. It made him feel a little awkward. It was like she was judging him in her head, or analysing every detail of him, while most women he knew just threw themselves at him in an instant. 

“He’s nothing special. I don’t see why I have to marry him,” she finally said, monotone and blunt, eyes dull and general expression no different. Dio almost choked in response, gawking momentarily at your words.

“Young lady! You should not speak about your future husband in such a manner,” her father scolded while the mother gasped and looked down at her with disappointment.

Similar to Dio’s attitude earlier, [F/N] huffed and continued to speak tersely, “future husband or no, he’s just some child. I don’t even want to be here!” 

Something in her had seemed to snap as in the next second, she had spun on her heel and made a bee-line for the front door, dashing outside to who knows where.

Instantly, both of the parents began to apologise on behalf of their daughter, even bowing their heads in shame to which George reassured them that it was no problem. Dio was only standing there, staring at the ghost of where the girl once was near the door and hummed to himself with thought. It didn’t take him long to ponder over his decision since he quickly knew that he wanted to find out what could possibly drive a woman to not only go against her own parents, but a man too, something that was frowned upon by everyone.

“It’s alright, I’m sure it is just the nerves,” Dio added in, sending the three elders a warm yet faux smile before he started to head out the door. “I’ll go find her and talk to her! After all,” he paused at the entrance, turning his head with a closed eyes, “is it not a husband’s duty to support his wife?”

That was as much as George was able to remember of your first meeting, never truly understanding what had brought upon your reaction unlike Dio, who knew a lot more than what he did.

After five minutes maximum of searching, Dio had finally spotted a pink blob in the distance and knew it could only be you. You were under a tree, knees hugged to your chest which caused you skirt to ride up slightly and crease in the most un-lady like fashion, head buried into your arms as small sobs came from your balled up figure.

Now Dio wasn’t the best at comfort. In fact, he hadn’t been able to recall a single moment where he had tried to ease anyone side from his crying mother once upon a time. Nonetheless, he knew that if he couldn’t get to you, he’d never find out what brought one such a display earlier.

“Oi, woman. Stop your crying,” he demanded, realising a little too late that wasn’t exactly the most or at all comforting thing to say, but it did cause you to raise your head and look at him with watery eyes and tear stained cheeks. A pitiful show, and still Dio thought of it as an oddly precious look. He’ll just pretend that’s the pity talking.

“What...What do you want? If you’ve come to convince me to marry you, forget it! I won’t marry a man I don’t love, know or need, ever!” You yelled, unafraid of the consequences that would come from being a woman with such an outspoken voice. 

Clicking his tongue against his cheek to make a ‘tsk’ sound, Dio placed his hands onto his hips and looked down at you with a stoic expression. “Who said I wanted to marry you, girl? I’m only here because your parents are causing an unnecessary ruckus and I’m here to understand why you’re being so damn difficult.” 

You blinked up at him. A tear rolling down because of your fluttering lashes, even if you were no longer crying. Sighing, you gazed ahead of you at a serene scenery that captivated you well enough to soothe your inner troubles. A lake weaved before you, water glistening underneath a setting sun which was slowly painting the sky different hues of pinks, oranges and yellows; even a purple was blended in somewhere in the mix. It was so beautiful, and all you could really come back to was the issue at hand. 

“I... Don’t take this personally, Dio was it?” You checked, to which he affirmed by nodding once, “I don’t hate you directly, and it’s not that I loathe my parents either. It’s just that I don’t want to live the rest of my life under another man’s roof who I hardly know, and love, while being expected to sit around all day until he comes home so that we can try to have a child I probably won’t care for because all I’ll see is the product of an unhappy life.” Your longwinded rant paused briefly, as you inhaled quickly to continue.

“I want to live on my own! Under my own rules and start my own business where I can provide for myself and work hard for what I need and want, not have it boringly handed to me on a silver platter.” 

After you were done, Dio blinked a few times in amazement. Were you really telling him all this? Something so controversial and so strangely endearing? Fascinating. He was actually quite hooked on your story, and understood where you were coming from. Dio would feel identically to you had he been in your position.

“I see. Well, there’s only one way to go about this then.” He piped up, kneeling down beside you with slight cringe as he sort of wanted to avoid dirtying his trousers. Giving him a curious look, you tilted you head to ask ‘how’ when he suddenly placed a hand on your cheek. 

“From now on, we’ll show those stupid old people that we have no other relationship than one filled with hate, and if we’re successful enough then they’ll have to release us of our burden to marry.” His plan sounded fool proof, at least it did when he said it in such a confident and certain way, though you still had doubts. 

“What if they get angry and disown us? Or worse...” You trailed off, cringing at the harsh hands that could come into play if things went south.

“Then you’ll just have to be Mrs Brando and live only to bear my children,” he returned, smirking in a way that reminded you of a smug cat that had caught the canary. Shuddering, you shook your head. 

“No, that sound horrible!”

“Oh? Does [F/N] Brando not have a ring to it? I think it’s quite fitting.”

“Don’t joke like that!”

The memory faded there as the rest wasn’t important to Dio. From that day, for at least two years the two of you have yelled, bickered, insulted, chastised, teased and even lightly hit each other to send across the message that there was no romantic interest between you and still, the both of you were pressured into marrying. It was like the message wasn’t going through their thick skulls!

Some things had changed since then as well. The two of you had slowly grown closer, away from your parents’ eyes of course, and even found comfort in each other’s company. Dio had somehow ended up confessing his backstory to you and his dislike for Jonathan, in which you assured him that he wasn’t any less of a man for coming from a poor family, and you had even given him a comforting kiss on the cheek. The rest of your time together was in embarrassing silence, mainly for Dio as you were contently resting your head on  his shoulder after you had teased his denied blush,

Honestly, even some of your fake arguments were like flirting, but just ten times more attractive and it made Dio genuinely want to see you again every time you left.

Snapping back into reality, Dio realised that George had resumed conversing with him and to his luck, it was to remind him that you would be shortly arriving for another one of your ‘arranged dates.’ 

Acting disgusted, the trickster scowled. “Does she have to come? She’s better off a thousand feet from me and then some.” 

“Dio, please. It’s been years, surely you have warmed up to her enough to at least not talk about her in that way!” George scolded, raising his cane to gently tap his son’s head with it. 

“You could stretch my life span to an infinite amount of years, and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

No more was said then as a butler had entered the room, announcing your arrival in which you entered on cue, cold as ever and not even greeting your supposed fiancé, just a ‘hello’ to George who sighed and greeted you in return, shortly excusing himself to his study to leave you two to do your own thing, expecting the both of you to carry out your arranged date though he doubted it.

As soon as he was gone, you smiled at Dio and giggled, slowly walking up to him once the door was closed by the exiting butler. “My, Mr Brando, don’t you look god awful today,” you noted, a joking flirt in your tone as you hooded your eyes and pinched your skirt to raise it a little.

Dio had managed to both scoff and smirk at the same time as he slightly opened his arms out, allowing you to approach him ever closer and press your blouse covered chest against his broader one, one hand slowly mimicking a walking motion up from his chest to his neck so you could wrap your arms around him. “Not as wretched and hideous as you, Mrs Brando. Did you just roll out of a sewer or is this your usual afternoon attire?” He teased, loosely holding your waist and staring down into the eyes that he had noticed so well when you first met. Still as perfect as ever. 

“Oh love, you know all of this is for you. If you’re good, I’ll let you see what’s under all this sewer gunk,” the purr in your tone and the feeling of your breasts pressing onto him made his mouth dry and you only laughed at his reaction to your unabashed tease. “I’m only joking, Dio, I can’t very well go sleeping with you just yet if I want to prove to my family I can be independent!”

He cleared his throat slightly and nodded with agreement, “of course, of course, we can do no such thing,” he recited, coquettishly grinning at you before he repeated one of your words, “yet.”

You gasped and stuttered, slapping his arm gently. “Oh hush! You know what I was going for.” You really didn’t know where your relationship with Dio was heading, if the two of you really were going to marry due to your parents or your own free will, or if it would all be over once you had your business plan approved, but you made an effort enjoy what strange intimacy you had now. 

“Do I, love? Perhaps you should explain it to me in further detail,” he hummed, moving his head down a little to brush his nose against your own. 

“No! Now be quiet, shouldn’t you be taking me somewhere?” You reminded, quickly changing the subject and taking a step back. Tittering, Dio starved for the feeling of you against him once more, moving to walk beside you with a hand on your lower back, guiding you to the door. It was arranged that he would take you to a restaurant in a carriage and spend until the evening at least socialising and perhaps touring the town. You both knew that you could actually talk until tomorrow’s sunrise, but for the sake of the message you wanted to send, it was better to cut it off sooner than that.

The two of you continued to silently banter all the way to the carriage.

Dio, in all his years, had never been more happier to spend time with a woman, as sharp tongued and stubborn as you were. He knew that once he had gotten rid of George and Jonathan Joestar, that he would appoint you head of his household and name you his wife and let you do as you wish, provided you swear to love him until death do you part.

[lightninghikari]

Proud

Pairing: Steven Stone/Wallace.

Rating: general audiences.

Summary: Steven Stone, heir of Devon, who had expectations put on him since the very day he was born… decides to come out to his father.

Author’s notes: This is a lil fic I’ve been saving all this time for Pride Month. Enjoy it!

Read in AO3

He took a deep breath, sighing afterward.

"You know, Steven?" His father stretched his arms, then allowing his hands to fall by his sides, over the bench, carelessly. "I can't remember the last time I relaxed on the beach like this."

"Yeah, here in Mossdeep is nice to..." then again, he sighed. "Chill a little."

"You should take me out of work more often," at the very least the man was enjoying himself. "Seriously. I can't remember the last time we hung out like this, it even feels like it had been years now."

Because it indeed had been years, Steven replied mentally.

In the middle of his restless thoughts, Steven paid attention to the fact that Joseph was right and they didn’t spend much time together anymore; which was crazy, considering that they were the only close family each other had. And for a moment, Steven got distracted by the realization that, taking his father for granted like that was no good, and that he should be taking every chance he had to spend the time with him and talk and reach out to him while he could.

Chances like… this one.

And once more, Steven felt the pit in his stomach, reminding him of why they were there to talk in the very first place. So, he let the first conversation topic to die down while trying to find the words to express what he needed to.

He sighed again.

"So, Steven," Joseph called his name with a patient tone. "What do you want to talk about? You said it was important and actually I've been aching to know what this matter is all about."

The anguish grew on his chest, as he shifted uncomfortably in his place. Steven had genuinely believed that he was ready to confront his dad already, yet there he was, stopping right on his tracks when he was explicitly requested to talk.

Ah… Steven had not a single clue of why he was so scared. He was a grown man already, independent, this shouldn’t even come out as a big deal. Besides, his dad was a good man, all of his own politeness he learned it from him. Yet, Steven believed somewhat there was a possibility to disappoint his father, to make him mad. After all, he was his only child, and his confession would mean a burden to all of the plans Mr. Stone had for him.

Nonetheless, he had postponed the whole matter a lot already. It was the moment to talk. Wallace was worth the shot.

"Well... it's just that..." He could barely elaborate. "Um, I mean, like..."

"Yes?"

"It’s… Like..." His head was already dizzy in shame. "Ah!"

Joseph chuckled, not quite amused, instead, very puzzled.

"Just go ahead.”

"It's something... um... hard to say, to put it down in some way," Steven spoke lowly, as if words would come easier that way.

“Okay, maybe try giving me a hint?”

Steven took a deep breath, “you could say, I…”

Was he going to say it so simply, just like that?

“Yes, Steven?”

This was terrible.

“Steven-”

And he growled, pulling his hair back with his hands in a clear sign of desperation, "Dad, please, don't get angry at me," he pleaded, finally giving in to his worries.

"You did something I should be mad about?"

"Kind of? I'm not sure..."

"Let's see," the older man said softly, getting a little more serious. "What happened?"

The pressure on his chest grew unbearable as his mind got foggier and foggier. For a moment Steven believed his mouth wouldn’t be able to keep producing words anymore and that he would have to run away from the scene.

"I..." point of no return, it was now or never. Steven shook his head and clenched his fists. "I'm... I'm dating someone".

The incredulous expression on Joseph's face was priceless. He remained quiet for a few seconds, then, he began to laugh in a lighthearted way, placing a hand in his chest rather relieved; which only thrilled Steven further, because what he was going to say wouldn’t be relieving at all.

"For Arceus' sake!" Joseph shook his head. "Is that what this whole tension is about? That my son’s got a new partner?"

Now his heart was pounding so desperately against his ribs that Steven truly believed he’d had an arrest.

"I know it sounds like something stupid and trivial!" He replied loudly, even furiously, unable to put up with the shame anymore. "But this is a serious matter and I'm sure that when I give you the details you're going to be at the very least a bit disappointed, to not say upset, and-”

"Why would I be upset?" Joseph answered, simply yet incredulous. "Wallace is a good man, I like him very much actually, you should already know that."

Oh?

Oh.

Steven felt his jaw dropping off its place as he gasped in surprise and his cheeks began to turn bright red.

How was it even possible that his father knew altogether that his new partner was in fact a male, and not any male, but Wallace?

Joseph laughed again, however, that time a little more nervously.

"W-What?" Steven started to stammer now, not even being able to keep visual contact. "H-How d-did you know?"

"I'm your father, I know you from the very day you were born, how I wasn't supposed to notice something like this?"

Ditching the whole parent intuition thing, Steven hurried to ask, "was I that obvious?"

"Sort of," he even gestured it with the hand. "When you first introduced us I didn’t really think it could be more than a friendship. But, one day, it only took me to watch how you looked at him as mesmerized as if he was a precious gem, and see how you giggled at every small thing he said, and how you couldn’t keep your hands off him, to know that you were completely and absolutely lovestruck. And Wallace… well. He wasn’t being quite subtle there, either; he’d say something very flirtatious to you for it to fly right over your head.”

Steven growled, covering his face, “how ludicrous…”

“I can’t blame him though. You are such a handsome man, no wonder why everyone throws themselves at you, a contest idol like him included.”

“D-Dad!” Steven whined. “This is so embarrassing!”

Shrugging, he chuckled, “to be fair, I didn't imagine you were dating now, but I was instead anticipating this talk to happen. I knew it was a matter of time for you both to get together."

Steven shook his head, "don't you think I was trying to keep this as a secret to you. In fact, we started dating just a few weeks ago, but if I didn't tell you immediately after that happened was because-".

"It's fine," Joseph seemed to completely understand his reasons, that being why he allowed himself to cut off Steven’s furious rambling. "I imagine you were still trying to come to terms with that. Don’t worry, I get you.”

Steven felt shame again. This time for not being able to do this sooner.

"So, aren’t you mad?"

"Why should I be?"

Once more, he sighed, now straightening in his place to add more seriousness to his words, "well, because I think I like men after all. And if I’m gay for real, this will mean I won’t get a future Devon heir, and I’ll be putting us in trouble and-”

Joseph smiled indulgently, then, tilted his head, giving his son a loving look.

"Steven..." he sighed, "life's too short and unpredictable to even worry about those sorts of things in advance. I mean, you can have your life all planned, and all of a sudden, it takes an unexpected turn and everything changes".

Steven nodded.

"When I was around your age, I was achieving everything I'd ever planned; I was this successful CEO both my father and grandfather raised me to be, I was happily and publicly married and you were about to born. I had everything."

Ah, he knew where this was heading to.

"I had planned my life to be exactly like that, like my father and grandfather wanted it to be and how I thought it would always be.”

This time, Joseph snickered lightly at himself

“Then, I had to face the fact that the woman I thought was the right for me didn’t want to be my wife anymore, then realized that my success wasn’t enough to keep a family happily together, and I had to raise you all on my own," Joseph clasped his hands together next. "What I’m trying to say is that you can’t be sure of what’s going to happen in the future. So, don't get so worked out about something that hasn't happened yet. When your time comes, you, and perhaps even Wallace, would decide what to do. And I do trust you will decide wisely, I have no doubt of that."

Suddenly, he became aware of the way his heart was exaggeratedly pounding hard against his chest, a lump in his throat holding back any kind of response; for that, Steven felt his eyes getting wet as an overwhelming sense of relief and happiness took over him.

He was, in fact, deeply moved by his father's words of acceptance. And trying hard to not cry, Steven remained silent, and almost two minutes went by like that until the older Stone decided to speak again.

“Besides… I’m happy for you.”

“You are?”

“Yes. All these years I watched you getting in relationships almost out of obligation. At first, of course, I thought that it was because of how the divorce had affected you, and that you still hadn’t found the right woman to love.”

Looking back at it, it sounded so ludicrous now.

“I’ve always seen people throwing themselves at you, and you resignedly settling with someone. But it was such a nice change when I noticed you were actually chasing after Wallace, with your heart all on your sleeve…”

How did his dad even manage to make it sound so embarrassing? Or was it just that Steven was that awkward in general?

"So..." Joseph cleared his throat. "How Wallace is doing?".

Steven chuckled, starting to move his tense body just a little. "He's fine. Happy. And so I am."

His father hummed.

"Wallace is a nice man,” he concluded. “I mean, he is very strong, capable, caring, funny, talented-"

"Beautiful," Steven uttered solemnly, adding to his dad's former statement. And when he realized what he just said and noticed the amused look on the older man's face, he felt his cheeks blushing, flustered.

"Oh, god. I'm still not prepared for diabetes, Steven," Joseph joked, gaining a gasp from his now again restless son.

"D-Dad!" He was sure he would die from the embarrassment since it never was his intention to sound so cheesy about Wallace in front of this father of his who loved to make jokes whenever it was possible.

Once he stopped laughing, Joseph stated, "well, I would like to meet him one of these days."

"Dad, you already know him."

"Indeed I do, however, you hadn't introduced him as your boyfriend yet, but only as your best friend instead."

Discreetly, Steven rolled his eyes.

"Whatever," he replied, "He'll be very glad to meet up with you. I'll be sure to tell you when we are free to hang out together."

His father nodded.

"Great," assuming the talk was already done, and to break any tension possibly remaining after that somehow awkward yet sweet conversation they shared, the man felt safe to bring up another topic. "Now, if my memory isn’t failing me, you told me that you've found a rare stone you wanted to show me."

Steven smiled for once.

"Yes. It's at my place".

"Shall we go then?"

He agreed, and once the both of them were standing, they remained quiet until the younger Stone broke the distance between them, wrapping his father in his arms, fervently, and of course, the embrace was immediately reciprocated.

"Thanks, Dad," Steven spoke softly, pure emotion in his voice.

"You are very welcome."

"This really means a lot to me. Just... thank you so, so much. I love you."

"You have nothing to thank me, Steven," At that moment, he sounded as moved as his son. Maybe that was the reason why he lightly kissed the top of Steven's forehead, the way he would when Steven was a kid. "You are my son, and for that, I will always love you, not only until you are old enough to make your own decisions and stop following my expectations. I love you the way you are and no matter what, it will always be like that."

“Dad…” was he about to cry? Yes, he was about to cry.

“I’m so proud of you, my boy. If it had been me going through this, damn, be sure I wouldn’t have been brave enough to go against the expectations put on me.”

“I can because I have an awesome dad like you.”

And of course, both laughed foolishly, Joseph running out of words too, unable to come up with one of his usual puns. This moment felt even holy, just a proof of the unconditional love going on between them, even if they didn’t spend much time with each other now.

And no word was spoken after that. Then, some seconds afterward they parted, only a little, however: all the way back home, Joseph wrapped an arm around Steven, holding him and patting his back and shoulder while they were walking all the way back home.

They spent the rest of the evening together, so casually, yet, it meaning the whole world to Steven; at first, he truly believed his father wasn't going to react well at him coming out so suddenly. Now, he was so thankful that, instead of falling apart, they grew even closer to each other. And so, silently, Steven made this promise that, he would try to reach out for his father more often. Growing up rather lonely didn’t mean he had to keep doing that way, that was one thing Wallace had taught him and that his dad was now reassuring him on.

Ah… How loved and accepted Steven felt. How great was to be truly in love with someone and be able to share that happiness with his loved ones.

And how much he admired his father. Hopefully, one day, he could truly aim to be half the wise and caring man Joseph was.

[bapyess1r]

Sunny Daze

WARNINGS: SMUT like a mf, cursing, angst

Pairings: best friend!Elena x OC, Sam x OC

Tags:

Chapter 15

Sunny’s POV

I stood in the bathroom, washing my body down with a washcloth in the sink. The shower in my motel room was less than favorable so I opted for a bird bath. As I washed my body, I began to think of how to talk to my best friend’s wife. My other best friend. I felt horrible. And I knew I should’ve called Elena the moment Nathan told me that she didn’t know where he really was. “‘Malaysia job…’” I muttered to myself, sourly, shaking my head. She was far from stupid. She was a journalist for Christ sake. And the fact that he never told any of us about Sam… neither did Sully… but you would at least think he’d tell her.

Once I cleaned myself up, I threw on a short plain black dress and a flowery blue sheer cover up. I needed a break from the dirty clothes. Luckily, there was a washer/dryer around and I gathered my laundry in a plastic bag to take them there. I slipped on a pair of sandals and grabbed my wallet and room key. I was going to go to a convenient store later; just on the next corner from here. If I was going to talk to Elena, I was going to need to get a little buzzed afterwards. I stepped outside onto the terrace and standing right outside my door, in nothing but dirty jeans and a tight white tank, was none other than Sam. He leaned over the railing, pressing his thumb into his palms as he looked down at the lit up pool water. He bore a look of guilt and exhaustion. His eyelids heavy and his shapely lips pulled into a slight frown. I blinked a couple times, admiring his strong back before remembering that he’d made me mad earlier in the day. He kept trying to send me away after we just had that conversation. I took a deep sigh before standing next to him, looking out at the city.

“You okay?” I asked. Regardless of how I felt, Nathan’s decision to push on to Libertalia weighed heavily on us all; even more so on Sam. His expression seemed to change at the sound of my voice. He turned to look at me with a smile.

“I’m better now that you’re here.” He said slipping his arm around my waist and pulling me close, kissing my cheek. I moved away from him and crossed my arms. He gave a shallow chuckle and scratched his head. “Did I do something?”

“Sam, you did it again. And we just talked about it at the tower. Just talked about it. Evidently we need to talk again. And in full this time. But first, I need to speak to Elena.” I said starting down the stairs.

“You hungry? We can talk about it over dinner… I was gonna go grab some food.” He asked like a hurt puppy. I looked back at him and nodded lazily before continuing to the laundry space.

“Don’t forget beer.” I called back to him.

After I tossed my clothes in the machine, I set a timer on my smartphone and went around the motel to find Elena’s room. Room 211. I stood in front of her door, bouncing on my tip toes as I knocked on the door. I bit my lip nervously as I heard the faint pitter patter of her footsteps from the other side. My heart skipped as I heard the door unlock and I think I stopped breathing. She opened the door with puffy red eyes and a tear stained face, already dressed in her pajamas to sleep. My heart broke as I looked into her big brown eyes and I couldn’t do anything else but throw my arms around her neck. It took a few seconds but she finally wrapped her arms around me and tightened her hold, her tears wetting my shoulder. I gave a deep sigh and tightened my grip too. “I’m so sorry- I know I suck, I know I should’ve called, I’m so shitty, I’m the literal worst-” I said in one breath and I could feel her laughing a little. A small smile crept onto my lips as she pulled away with a sniffle.

“You’re none of those things, Sunny. You’re fine. It’s Nathan.” She told me, wiping away her tears and inviting me inside. I knitted my brows as she closed the door and I sat at the foot of her bed, ready to listen. “First he lies about Malaysia and now he has… A brother….” was all she could say. She sighed as she sat with her back against the headboard, picking at her nails and chewing her lip, her gaze drifting nowhere in particular. I blew some air and gave a short head tilt.

“Yeah… Tell me about it…” I said resting on one of my hands as I crossed my legs.

“You mean you didn’t know either?” She asked me.

“Just Nate and Sully…” I shrugged. “I only found out when he called.” I said as she stretched out her short legs and crossed her ankles.

“I wonder what happened to him…” she said. I began to tell her the story of how Sam had gotten left in jail almost exactly as he’d told me; of course all whilst voicing my own thoughts and opinions. With every part of the story, I started to feel sad for him all over again. Thinking that maybe I should give him a break… “Jesus… that’s awful.”

“I know right… he’s lost so much of his life- fifteen years?! I was in a jail cell for three months and I was complainin’ like a mother….” I groaned. All my bullshit complaints seemed so trivial when I look back on it now.

“I couldn’t even imagine…” she mumbled. “But why would Nate lie about it? He could’ve told me…”

“I honestly don’t have the answer. I love my boy to death but sometimes he ain’t got the sense God gave a goose.” I said plainly and Elena burst into a giggle. I smiled. “I mean seriously, there’s a tree stump in Louisiana with a higher IQ.” She laughed a bit harder, slapping my knee and I joined in. It was good to see her smiling and not crying. After our laughter died, I began to pick out the leftover dirt from my nails as I spoke. “I’m not tryna make excuses for him at all. What he did was stupid...as hell. Sully and I both told him so. He wanted to keep you from doin’ the same thing I’m doin’. Sticking your neck out for someone you don’t know.”

“But he let you do it?” She questioned. I smirked.

“I’m not his world. You are. Can you blame him for wanting to protect this beautiful face?” I said, pinching her cheek. She gave a half laugh and chewed on her lip again. At that moment, I thought about Sam and what he might’ve been trying to do. I hung my head and rolled my eyes, shaking my head. ‘Goddammit…’ I thought. I looked up at her. “Listen, Els… I’m not gonna try to convince you to stay. And you know me. I’m not the best at…. consoling people. But what I can do is promise to look out for Nathan if it makes you feel better…”

She looked at me with a bit of fear shining in her eyes. “Has it really been that dangerous?” She asked me. I wasn’t going to lie to her. She deserved better than that. I had already lied to her so much already.

“It’s working it’s way up to be the closer we get to finding this treasure. And Sam’s so obsessed with it, all the near death experiences don’t even phase him…” I sighed, shaking my head, shivering as I thought about the couple of close calls I had all day.

“Nothing ever really scares you though.” She said and I scoffed with widened eyes and a nervous chuckle.

“Shiiit….. this trip might get me.” I laughed, scratching at the tip of my nose with my finger nail. “I almost fell out of the 4x4 hangin’ off a cliff this morning so….” She widened her eyes at me with a gasp.

“I’m sorry- what?” She exclaimed. I pursed my lips and gave a nod.

“That deadass happened… and I lost my cool for a minute. Kinda snapped at your husband.” I chewed on my lip and cocked my eyebrow. “If it weren’t for Sam actually, I would’ve quit…”

“So you trust this guy?” She asked. I shrugged.

“More or less. To be fair, I trust no man.” I smirked and Elena returned it. She knew what I was about and that’s why I loved her. Suddenly, my phone’s alarm went off and I groaned as I silenced it. “I would love to stay and chat with you some more but… I have clothes in the wash and a whole other conversation to have.” I said rolling my eyes, honestly not really wanting to leave.

“With who?”

“With Sam…” I said and she nodded, picking at the skin on her lips. “Much like another Drake we know, he has a tendency to protect me from damn near everythin’....” I told her as I stood and she just laughed.

“Yeah. That seems to be a common theme, huh?” She commented as she stood. I turned to look at the strong and beautiful woman before me as my hand touched the door knob. I was blessed to have a friend like her in my life. Lord knows she deserved better than all of us.

“I’ll be seein’ ya?” I asked.

“Perhaps.” She joked. I hugged her once again and left her room with a sigh. She had a lot to think about.

Sam’s POV

I walked down the street with a cigarette hanging from my lips, humming a tune as I carried a four pack of tall cans and a half and half pizza. All things considered, I was feeling pretty good. We had a lead and a damn good one at that. And I was almost positive Rafe hadn’t figured out where we were going yet. This talk with Sunny though… I know it’s been annoying to hear herself repeat to me that she can handle herself. And I understood that but the main reason was that I couldn’t have her hate me if things got “hinky”. I know what I’m like during the hunt and things were only going to escalate the closer we got to this treasure.

As I came around the corner, I noticed Sunny coming out of the laundry room. She wore a fitted black dress and a flowing blue shawl fell off of her shoulder. My heart skipped a few beats looking at her. To say that I was simply attracted to this woman was an absolute understatement. I called out to her, goofily grinning and raising the food in my hands. “I didn’t know what you liked on your pizza so it’s half pep half cheese.”

“Booo, no pineapple?” She smirked, taking the pizza from me as she climbed the stairs and I followed behind her, watching her hips work like a cat as I ash my cigarette. ‘Holy shit, what a woman…’ I thought as I bit my lip and shook my head. It should be a crime to look that good. I grunted as I pushed my legs up the steep stairs and into her room. “God, I’m so hungry, I could eat the north end of a south-bound goat.” She mumbled. I cackled. She said the darnedest things sometimes and I loved every second of it. “Did Nate say anything after I left?” She asked as she sat down at the head of the bed and opened the box, revealing a steamy, mouthwatering pie. The scent filled the room as I closed the door behind me and sat at the foot of her bed.

“Besides swearin’ all over the place and tellin’ me to go pack, not really no. I think he needed some space.” I said, kicking off my boots and sitting cross legged to face her. I pulled two cans from the plastic ring and handed her one before looking about for the ashtray. Without even looking, she picked it up off her nightstand and passed it to me. I smirked as I placed the butt in the mostly clean tray and she cracked open her can, sipping it gingerly. I watched her face as she poked her lip out afterwards with a nod. “It’s good?” I ask.

“It’s alright for what it is.” She said with a shrug. Then she did something that really got to me for some reason. She turned the can around in her hands to check the alcohol percentage. “It’s 10% though so if you drink it fast enough, you’ll be good to go.” I gave an earnest chortle as I sipped my own beer, my heart pounding. She was right. It wasn’t that great but it would definitely numb my muscles for the night.

“Now let’s see about this pizza.” I rubbed my hands together as a delicious scent crept through my nostrils. I picked up a pepperoni piece and held the wide slice in my hands. Sunny did the same, picking of a piece of pepperoni as strings of cheese held on to the cooked meat. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she gave a satisfied moan, giving me a slight twinge in my pants. A smile pulled on my lips as I took a bite of my own slice. “Oh hell yes.” I grumbled with a mouth full of pizza.

“Hell. Yes.” She agreed as she ate. I chuckled and we continued to eat the whole pizza. That woman could put away some food. She was so small though; I wondered where it all went. Even with her cheeks stuffed with pizza, she was the most amazing person to look at. As she leaned back to let her stomach settle, I could see her chest heaving. And I watched for a moment, letting my eyes fall to her cleavage. I followed her collarbone over her petite shoulders and up her delicate neck; To her jawline, her perfect face (even with a few bruises and scrapes) and all over her sweet caramel skin. My heart stopped a tick when she looked at me with those big baby eyes. I remembered the way she touched me as we escaped the thrall of a fleet of Shoreline soldiers, the way she kissed me just before then, and how she fought so bravely in several fights before that. I couldn't bear something happening to this outstanding woman. And I know she didn’t like it but I would always try to keep her safe… I cleared my throat and picked up my beer before speaking.

“So… don’t hate me...” I began, taking a large gulp and closing up the box to sit it on the floor beside the bed. She raised a brow at me as she sipped from her can to wash down her food. “But I wanted to suggest something.”

“Oh no,” she sang with a smile. “What is it?”

“I think you should go with Elena… back home, I mean…” I treaded very lightly on this subject. Just as I had said those words, the smile on her face disappeared as quickly as it came.

“Samuel Drake…” she growled, gripping her beer tightly as she stood to pace.

“Hear me out-” I started, raising my hands defensively, scooting towards the edge of the bed.

“Sam, I am not leaving-” I cut her off, getting a little frustrated myself. She was being so stubborn. She was almost as bad as me. When I say I’ve met my match…

“Sunny, just listen to me for a sec-”

“No you listen!” She snapped. I shut up and gave a huff as I ran my hand down my face, letting an elbow and a hand rest on my knees as they bounced anxiously. I set off the bomb and now it was time to be blown to bits. “I want to be here, Sam! Not just for you, not just because Nathan needed me- I needed this adventure! You know what I’m goin’ home to after this?! Absolutely not shit! Not a damn thing but a shitty job that I wish I could just up and leave because I get no respect, harassed every day, and nothin’ but backhanded compliments from ignorant tools tryna grab my ass. I wanna die every day, Sam. Literally die!” She told me as her brows furrowed and her lips curled into a snarl. I could feel my face publicize a downcast look while she spoke. My brows knitted together as a sort of sadness took place in my eyes. “When I get called on a job, I am so excited to leave that shitty bar. And I hope the job lasts for months. Even if we don’t find anything, I’m grateful to just be gone. And then Nathan calls me to Italy… and I meet you. This scruffy lookin’ nerfhearder…” she chuckled towards the end. A warm smile crept onto my face at the Star Wars reference as she ran a thumb across my cheek. “And you’re… funny and really smart, a ridiculous flirt and strong in more ways than one. You’re everything a man should be… But you’re stupid. And you’re reckless as hell. And you wanna do every damn thing by yourself-”

“If I do it myself, no one gets in the way-” I replied, trying my best to get a word in but she wasn’t having it. She growled.

“But it can’t always be like that, Sam!” She snapped, cutting me off. Her hands waved about as she spoke. “W-What if you get caught in another trap- like you did today- and you can’t get out of it? What if you set something off and you end up drowning or impaled or blown up?! I like you way too much to let something like that happen to you!” She huffs and looks up trying to keep the tears at bay but her huff is strained in her throat and her eyes are starting to grow glassy, and all I want to do is hold her. Her lips trembled as I reached out to place my hands on her waist, knees parting slightly for her to stand between them. Nobody ever talked to me this way. Demanding… with confidence and slight authority… With this much worry...

“Sunny… I couldn’t forgive myself if anything or anyone hurt you. I just wanna protect you as much as possible. The closer we are to finding Avery’s treasure, the more likely we are to run into Rafe and God knows what he’d do to you-”

“I’m not afraid of Rafe.” She commented.

“I know, sweetheart… Nothin’ is gettin’ by you. And that’s one of the many, many things I like about you so much. And I’m sorry. I didn’t know life was that awful for you back home…” I told her as I hooked my hand under her thigh and pulled it over my leg so that she was straddling me. I let my hands massage her hips and cup the rounds of her ass for a moment as I looked at her. I snaked a hand around her neck and brought her forehead to mine. ‘But at least you’d be alive…’ I thought as our noses bumped into each other’s. “And I’ll be more careful, sweetheart…” I told her in a rough but very sincere tone. I kissed her in the crook of her neck. “I promise… I promise…” She let out a soft moan as I kissed a trail up and across her neck to kiss her cheek, wiping away a single tear with my thumb. “I’m sorry…” I whispered as my breath danced about hers. Her soft, small hands wrapped around my neck; One playing with the curls at my nape. She tugs on them lightly, pulling my face away from hers for a moment to stare into my eyes.

“Don’t leave me again, Samuel Drake…” she shivered as I ran a hand down her back gently.

“I won’t…” I gasped as she pressed her velvety lips on my neck, kissing each bird tattooed in a flock on my neck.

I pulled the shawl down from her shoulder, placing hot kisses there. I tightened my grip on her as she worked her way up to my ear, nibbling on it carefully and I let out a shaky moan. Our lips crashed together and all my worries disappeared for a moment. The kiss was hungry and greedy on my part. I wanted her. I needed her. But I was seriously mistaken when I thought that I was the only one in control of the situation. She slipped off her shawl and dug her fingers into my hair, kissing me back with unrelenting passion as her hips rolled in my lap.

I betrayed myself with a moan as she forced me down on the bed. ‘Holy shit…’ I thought as she marked my neck and chest with sucks and nibbles, leaving behind a trail of pink and purple bruises as she went. She pulled at the hem of my tank and I helped her pull it off me as her hands fiddled with my belt. She made short work of it and I sat up a moment to touch her but she pushed me back down again. A surprised twitter of laughter left my throat as she continued to place kisses down my stomach. Her fingers ghosting over the scars from when I was shot. My breathing hitched under her electrifying touch and she began to undo my jeans. I had to say, it was new to me that I was the first one to be undressed. I wasn’t used to it but I damn sure wasn’t complaining.

I let my hands roam under her dress, slapping her ass as I did and she gasped, being caught off guard. That was my chance. I sat up again and lifted the dress over her head quickly, her breasts falling freely in front of me, revealing an elaborate under breast tattoo. I groaned at the sight of her, cupping them roughly and massaging my thumbs into her nipples as I placed vicious kisses across her chest and between the valley of her breasts. She let out a sweet sigh as my hips bucked up into hers and I could feel myself growing ridiculously hard beneath her. She moved her hips a little eagerly, trying to get more friction but all that made me want to do was fuck her sooner. But I couldn’t do that just yet. I wanted to take my time with her. I swiftly picked her up in my arms and flipped her on her back. A big satisfied smile crawled across her face as I hovered over her, rubbing myself against her center. I smirked when I leaned down to kiss her again, her tongue darting over my lips, begging for entrance and I let her in. My teeth dragged along her bottom lip and I let myself drag a kiss over her chin and across her jaw, leaving wet kisses over her throat. I let out an amused chuckle as I felt the vibrations from her moans on my lips.

My hand slipped down between us and I could feel her wetness through her pink lacy panties already. She was making it very hard for me to take this slow. I let my fingers slip past the hem and she bucked her hips the moment I laid a single finger on her drenched slit. She began rocking her hips against the heel of my palm but I pushed her hips down with my free hand and picked up the pace myself. Her eyes squeezed tightly closed as I brought her to the edge, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. Just when she thought she was about to let go, I stopped with a sadistic grin on my lips. I brought myself to my knees and pulled her panties down over her legs, a string of wetness clinging to the fabric and my mouth watered. I massaged her inner thighs, my kisses leaving bruises the closer I got to her dripping cunt. Finally, I realized that I was only teasing myself and licked a long stripe with the flat side of my tongue.

She let out a long shivery sigh. I grinned as I made out with the lips between her hips for a while, lapping up the juices as they fell. I sucked on her clit rather roughly as I snaked my arms under her hips to keep her in place and she took hold of my hair, tugging on it with need. I growled into her and the tip of my tongue teased her so. My name was hot on her lips as I worked. I brought her close to the edge again and pulled away with a laugh. She didn’t seem too amused. She growled and slammed her hands into the mattress as I stood to pull down my jeans. Just as my cock sprang from my confines, rock hard, standing pink and veiny, Sunny sat up and wrapped her small hands around it. My knees almost gave out at the sudden contact. She took the opportunity to switch positions and now I sat on the edge of the bed. Her hands glided up and down my member so skillfully before her tongue met with my tip, leaking pre cum. She sucked at the tip a while before taking me whole in her mouth. The groan that tore from my throat was a little louder than I meant for it to be. “Jesus, sweetheart…” I managed to say as she made me a moaning mess. Her tongue dragged along the underside of my cock as she caressed my balls gently and it took everything in me not to cum right then and there. Just as that burn began to swell in the pit of my stomach, she ceased any further stimulation and kissed the tip with a cheeky wink. ‘Fuck…’ I thought with a massive huff.

She climbed my body like a tree, kissing her way up to my lips and I caressed her face gently. My member graced her slit ever so lightly and she moaned into me, basically teasing me as she rubbed her wetness onto me. Then she took hold of me, easing herself down onto me with an erotic sound escaping her lips. The words “please ride me” left my mouth before I could even think. And with that she began bouncing on top of me. I left my hands on her hips to give her more stability as she pleasured herself with my cock. My heart was about to rip out from my chest, it was beating so hard. I tried picking up my hips to meet her bounces but she placed both hands firmly on my chest and began to ride me into the night. I was seeing stars as she looked down at me. I reached out for her face as she rolled her body on mine, our moans mixing in with each other’s like music as she slowed down. I growled into her mouth as my hand came in harsh contact with her ass again and she gasped. “Bend over the desk, baby girl.” I told her in a low commanding tone. For once she did as she was told and sauntered over to the bare desk, wiggling her ass at me a little as she rested her palms flat on the wood. That’s when I noticed the tattoo of Japanese characters lined down her spine. That was enough motivation to get me going again.

I walked over to her, lifting one of her knees onto the surface of the desk, making her back arch perfectly. I slapped her ass again before driving into her roughly. My thrusts were needy and wanton as I rested my chin on her shoulder, grunting animalistically in her ear as the pitch of her moans grew higher and higher. I pressed her hips down into the desk as I felt myself hit her spot. And I knew I did when she squealed. I couldn’t stop. My name sounded like a prayer coming from her as I drove into her like mad, hitting that spot for her over and over again. I was nearing my end too. As she cried out, I felt her walls tighten around me and I let out an audible noise of satisfaction as that burn swelled in me again, spilling my seed deep into her as I let her milk me dry. I slowed my thrusts as a thin sheet of sweat appeared on my forehead. I was heaving as I rested my head on her shoulder and she laughed in exhaustion. ‘Best….sex….ever.’ I thought with a laugh of my own as I pulled out from her. She turned around and held my flushed face in her hands before placing a long, meaningful kiss on my lips. All I could do was smile and pull her close.

“I left my clothes in the dryer…” she chuckled. I snorted.

“That’s what you’ve got to say after we just…” I joked and she cracked up with the sweetest laugh. “I mean really. That was some pretty damn good sex and you just…” she laughed even harder and the beautiful smile on her face made me want to kiss her again. “You go get cleaned up, I’ll grab your clothes.” I told her, pushing her short curls off her forehead so I could press a kiss there. Then I pressed one on her cheek and the side of her neck with a pleased smile before gathering my clothes. I put on my jeans, not even caring about a shirt and rushed to get her clothes so that I could go back to her. When I came back, she was wearing that black dress again, curled up over the top of the comforter. Her eyes heavily lidded as she tried her best to stay awake for me. I smiled at her and set her freshly cleaned clothes down in a nearby chair before jumping on the bed next to her.

“Are you sleeping here tonight?” She asked me tiredly as her lashes fluttered over her cheeks. I nodded, stroking her curls and wrapping her small frame in my arms.

“If you don’t mind…” I replied. She gave an incoherent response as I watched her pass out in my embrace. I turned off the lamp beside the bed and just watched her sleep in the glow of the moonlight. I took this time wanting to remember every detail of her, knowing in the morning that she’d hate me for what I was about to do...

[alchemist-shizun]

As soon as the curtain is raised

Read on Ao3!

Now available as an audio recording of yours truly!

Wonderful illustrations made by the kind @doodledoobug​ 🧡

Word count: 2,230

Characters: Deceit centric, but all the other sides are here too

Relationship(s): I'm giving you all carte blanche and you can interpret this the way you'd like!

Warning(s): Negative thinking, suicidal thoughts, cursing, a sort of self harm

Taglist: @shitpost-sides, a fellow angst lover

A/n: I swear it has a happy ending. Thank you to @stop-it-anxiety since they came up with the scales idea! This was written in honor of suicide prevention day and honestly I'm not entirely sure of how this came out but I feel like I tried to convey a message more than focus on a decent storyline. Either way, hope you enjoy the suffering! (I know snake skin is supposed to shed, but let's just pretend this is what actually happens for him)

✾

❝ It's alright, it's okay, it's alright, it's okay. You're not a monster, just a human, and you made a few mistakes. ❞

It's fine. It'll be over soon.

Another sharp pain traveled through the man's body, warm glimmers sparkled from his cheek, hitting his eyes from the inside. His mind was clouded, his common sense long lost in previous silent cries of help.

Just one more. You'll be satisfied.

He had tried to tell them. He had tried so many times, without success, to make them realize what had been circulating in his subconscious.

He had tried, but never actively did tell them.

Deceit was scared and he wasn't able to admit it to anybody; he had shown up more often in hope that the other sides were going to notice his strange demeanor. Instead, they found it annoying at first, as they believed he wanted to go against their points of view on every single dilemma.

Only that everything he did was give trivial suggestions and hardly pay attention to the topic at hand, or talk at all.

Thomas had side glanced him a couple of times, but that was all that it was, since he had been nothing but harmless.

Then came Patton's suspiciousness.

He had stopped him before he could retreat to his room. « I know you won't tell me, but ... » he looked unsure of his own words. « Do you have anything on your mind, or ...? »

Deceit wasn't exactly being hostile to the group. Patton was being wary of him though. That was what he believed, at least.

And it was also what he convinced himself of, the reason why he looked at Patton with a questioning look, narrowing his eyes. He felt the scales on his cheek pressing on one another in his expression.

Patton left, with a defeated "Alright then".

The second time there was a hopeful buzzing fire at the pit of his stomach was when he found the will to seek Virgil out after one of their meetings with Thomas.

But when it was time to let everything out, it was as if that same fire had burned down all of his words.

Deceit's shaky hands were hidden behind his back.

« What is it? »

Virgil ... he had just started to accept him again, didn't he? Maybe that wasn't the best idea. Or, he could always tell him some other time.

« Dee? » his tone was lower, kind of like a whisper. Did he notice he hadn't been responding for quite a bit? Deceit's head snapped up with a "huh?" and was met with Virgil's slightly arched eyebrows.

Why did he call him like back then, when ...

« Are you ... good? »

I'm so sad, I'm so gone, I'm so lost, I'm so sad, I'm so down.

Before he could respond, Virgil's eyes scanned a particular spot at the side of his face. « What's that? »

Deceit's heart dropped in his chest, his hand flew to his cheek and his fingertips brushed the only uneven part among his scales. His skin felt chapped with dried blood from the day before, when he couldn't stop picking at it. Were he to press it, the faint pain would still be there.

« Just Remus and his ... "surprises". » he mused, although he had meant to tell the truth, for once. To scream what the reality was.

He had hoped for him of all people to see him. But Virgil only nodded and headed for his room a moment later, the purpose of their chat was forgotten.

It hurts so much.

After that, it could have only gotten worse.

Deceit started being more subtle, hardly ever leaving the dark sides' part of the mindscape. He thought Remus wouldn't have noticed, or, if he did, he would've brushed it off as some kind of actual activity he'd suggest too.

He was worried they could have grown back.

When he found scars in their place the days after, he could have said he was satisfied.

He could have, really.

But as soon as he did it one time, as soon as he discovered what he was capable of doing, he couldn't stop himself anymore.

He'd think about his scales for more than an instant, and there he was, urging to rip off every single one of them.

There was no reason at all most times, just an impulsive feeling. And he complied to it at any chance.

It wasn't easy to get rid of them completely, he knew he wouldn't have been able to; he had to go through never-ending shots of pain, he had to deal with the crusts of blood on his wounds, peeling them off too, out of frustration.

When he did that enough to leave darker spots on his skin, he knew he was done and could move onto the other scales.

He felt relieved to see he didn't look quite as monstrous as he did before. At long last, he could be happy.

Deceit discovered it was the complete opposite when he rose in the living room, face wiped of his hideous snake traits, and was only met with wide-eyed stares.

I still disgust them?

His face dropped.

« What have you done? » Virgil was the only one to speak, shock in his eyes.

Logan couldn't find any word to assist, Roman's hand flew to his own cheek and Patton was clutching at his shirt, you could read suffering on his teary eyes, as if he were experiencing the same aching all at once. Their reactions were interpreted as disgusted.

« Are you kidding me? » Deceit was in utter disbelief. « Just what the fuck do I have to do- » he caught a sob and suppressed it. When had he started crying? « -to be accepted? » he wiped at his face. Everything hurt in his chest.

He knew where to find physical pain to complement.

Deceit sank down faster than any other day, leaving a dreadful aura behind himself.

Losing balance, he stumbled in the common room to find some useful objects; Remus wasn't around, that was to his avail. No distractions.

He looked up at a small mirror. That's what was still wrong.

That horrendous eye.

His hands trembled and went into his hair. Now, how could he fix that? Lenses? Maybe, but what about the skin around, it seemed too much like he had burnt it. Too gruesome to be acceptable. He just wanted to be normal, why was he the only one that had to look like a beast?

Was he, in fact, one? Was that his punishment for being himself? If only Thomas could have gotten rid of him, he'd have already done that.

Could he ... get rid of himself?

Was it possible? Was it worth something? To hell with it, there was no thinking straight about that, he felt twisted enough to deserve to stop existing.

As his mind got stuffed with cotton and misery, his auditory system seemed to stop working.

Remus was wondering exactly that, he had been calling his name three times and he didn't seem to notice his presence at all. He wasn't stupid, he knew something was up when he saw him shaking.

When Deceit felt his arms being lowered by foreign hands, he was surprised to have the Duke himself presenting in front of his eyes.

His blurred vision didn't let him recognize Remus' concerned expression. nothing that was on his mind helped him calm down at all, he didn't even realize he was surrounded by multiple people. He didn't want to open his eyes.

I'm just revol-

« I love you. » a broken voice made its way through his thoughts, silencing them.

« I'm sorry. I love you. » he felt hands on his shoulders, but his eyes were still squeezed shut.

He couldn't see the sides stepping aside to let Logan help him. He didn't see his soft expression as he whispered things he didn't comprehend.

Yet, it seemed his breathing pace was slowing down, the cotton in his ears fell out and he tentatively craked one eye open, just the right amount not to be blinded by the disappointment of reality.

Was Logan telling him a tale?

Deceit focused, behind him were a deeply emotional Patton, still clutching at his cat hoodie the same way he did before. Virgil could barely bear to look at him without feeling guilty. Roman was keeping his brother still, who wanted to rush to Deceit as soon as he gave signs of regaining his consciousness.

« Okay? »

Deceit nodded before he could register what he had even agreed to. Afterwards, Logan helped him up to his feet and the others decided it was safe to approach.

Falling to the ground was another one of the things he forgot he had done, apparently.

Roman let go of Remus and they both paced towards him. He eyed them, confused as to why they were both raising their right hands to his face.

When they touched his cheek, he had a horrible feeling of anticipation, but he didn't move.

In a matter of seconds, the twins made the scales come back, one after the other, replacing the scars like little blossoming spring flowers. The pain disappeared altogether, though he was going to be still scarred inside.

« Please, keep them. » Roman murmured, he let himself show a genuine smile. « They're pretty, I like them. »

Deceit blinked, stared at him, but remained silent, still incapable to remark anything, while both Creativities stepped to the side as Patton launched himself at him, wrapping his arms around Deceit's chest.

« Don't go. I'm sorry. I should've understood. » his words felt disconnected between the sobs. Patton hugged him tight, Deceit found the will to return it, slowly burying his face in his hair. He closed his eyes yet again and felt like all his negative feelings were being drained out of his body.

He was, bit by bit, restoring his awareness. Which meant he was starting to regret all he'd done.

« You absolute idiot. » he felt another presence at his side, all at once another pair of arms was around his neck. Virgil's voice was muffled as he was speaking with his mouth pressed on the other's shoulder. « If you try any of that again, if you even remotely consider the thought, I will kill you. »

« That's kind of what I was going for. » Deceit whispered low enough so that only Virgil would have heard clearly.

« Please don't. » there was a slight crack in his voice as he hugged him tighter.

Deceit looked up to see Logan smiling at the endearing scene, a few feet away from the group, his chin was resting on his palm while his elbow was on his other hand.

His presence made him smile back and mouth a quick "thank you". What was happening anymore?

« Let's give him some space, guys. » Roman brushed his back for a moment, offering a tender gaze, then he gently pulled Virgil and Patton away.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Remus holding back from basically throwing himself at him.

« Why such kindness, all of a sudden? » something didn't sit right.

That was when the Duke finally spoke. « Well, I don't know. Maybe because you started mumbling about "possibly getting rid of yourself" and freaked me- us out? » 

Deceit did a double take. « I have? » weren't those just his thoughts? He didn't remember talking at all.

« Yes, Dee. You didn't stop for minutes. »

He had to blink several times before he was able to recollect himself. He had been at his limit for so long he had exploded only when he lost control over himself.

Remus paced forward and took his hand, a look that affirmed "If you dare let go I'll glue our arms together."

Then, Logan nodded at Roman.

The latter wore an excited expression and gestured widely, bending his creative powers to shape a form of light in front of him. Deceit peeked from his place.

Roman walked towards him, holding a tiny snake that twirled between his hands; he chuckled, then handed it over.

Deceit was already in love with it, practically beaming with so much joy that the others swore they saw some sparkles coming from him, too.

Remus later added a tiny hat and a cape to the creature to match Deceit, getting a laugh out of everyone as the snake simply slithered around and stuck its tongue out several times. Roman offered he could take the animal around the dreamscape whenever he wanted.

It was when, later that day, they were all hanging around in the kitchen and living room, doing small talk, petting the new family member and just relaxing with some movies on, that Deceit knew he could recover.

It wasn't going to be easy, or immediate at all.

He knew he would fall back into the habit sometimes or find himself scratching his scales without even realizing. He was going to believe he couldn't do it, that he wouldn't be able to make it. He was going to cry when the negative thoughts dived back in his mind.

But he had support, this time.

So, yes. He believed he was going to see a better day, eventually.

[crqstalite]

From the prompt list? I'm sending in something simple with will, hopefully, just go in any direction you want. And that's "Always." For whichever pairing you wish :)

posting this before i chicken out, because i’ve been at this for like eight hours already lol. trying my hand at a little shakarian [petrakarian, in this case], and there’s a sprinkle of happiness if you squint ;)

edit: i’ve also never written garrus before honestly. definitely tried my best but i’m sure there are mistakes in there somewhere. regardless, happy to provide.

pairing: brione petrakis/garrus vakarian. word count: 2,611

-

She's putting it off. Leaving, as it was.

Honestly, she doesn't know why. Her bags are all packed, her dress blues are pressed and folded on the cot next to her. Her datapad has been prepped to send all of her reports straight to Alliance Command. Yet she's left her comb in her duffel, hair decidedly unbrushed around her shoulders, still sitting in her fatigues and they're only an hour out from the Citadel. She could be in the crew quarters, going over any possible assignments they could give her. She could be trying to get another couple of winks in. Anything other than being here, and desperately hanging on to what felt like the last thing she had in the galaxy.

It would've been so much easier not to be here right now, but nothing in the last year had been easy. It's harder to force herself out, hell she's been sleeping in here for the last week or so.

The lights flicker just above her, the battery still stuttering in a way that frustrated Garrus to no end. Not that they had much need for it these days, but she'd offered to take a look at it. He'd been content to let her sit nearby. Talking about trivial things during the first few days after the suicide mission with some of her senses glossed over by pain meds, maybe more than a little wine in their systems. Then it waned into painful silence as they grew closer to the station, wine bottle empty and all sentiments aired. All the things she knows she can't say, all the things she wants to.

She rolls another bandage around her hand, pulling taut. It'd been her good hand too, a lucky shot taken by a Collector that had left her unable to snipe properly during the last leg of the base assault. Still bruised and trying it's hardest to bleed through. Mordin hadn't been there to do it properly, so it had been her, hearing gunshots against the barrier they'd set up, blood gushing from her hand with Garrus asking her if she was alright. Medi-gel spilling from her shaking hands, only being able to offer suppressing fire with her Carnifex before Shepard told them to retreat. Her wrist whined from the motion, and she barely catches a blue eye darting between her and the UI when she groans.

"Still bothering you?" His voice is softer than usual when she catches him in the act, hands stilling over the keyboard, "Chakwas should really take a look at that."

"She can once we're back in Alliance space," Brione haphazardly cuts off the end of it, tucking it under one of the other wraps. She tests a smile with the nearly healed scar on her lip, "Besides, you're the one who was apparently up and fighting with Shepard not even two days after you nearly died, Garrus."

Another beat of silence before he starts again, mandibles flaring as he sighs. Exasperated with her, maybe. He'd been bothering her about it for days now, usually asking how it was and if she needed anything, "We Turians are a bit hardier than our human counterparts," He gestures to the scarred side of his head, bandage recently removed. "Brione-"

"Don't." She lays the gauze down next to her, unable to meet his eyes. She doesn't want to think about the fact these are their last days together, the fact this could very well be the last time she hears him say her name. There wasn't much guaranteed after their non-human crewmembers stepped off the ship, nothing saying he had to stay with her, even over light years separating them, "I'll see Chakwas once, once everyone is gone. Shepard will have my head if I lose a hand before we get there anyway."

"You can't hide in here forever, Brione," Is all he says, giving her a concerned look but finishing his diagnostics on the console first, "No reason in putting it off."

This talk has been a week coming. He hesitates, unsure of himself while she tries to will the tears away, turning away from him. What was she, six? She could handle a suicide mission (which they'd all nearly died on), so why was saying goodbye, saying see you later, saying that she'd see him again soon so hard? She was a captain of the Alliance military, not a babbling schoolgirl with a crush.

Except, that's what it felt like, navigating a relationship with him. She'd downright giggled at something he'd told her.

Does he know just how much he means to her?

It wasn't as if extranet access would be blocked for her when she got back to Earth. By every law that Shepard had learned (and in turn exploited) surprisingly quickly, most of the human operatives aboard the SR-2 wouldn't be arrested under the same duress she would be. Brione could still send messages to Palaven, could still say hello every once and a while.

Hello wasn't the same as being able to sit in a comfortable silence with one at the console, the other completing her daily reports with her legs folded under her, hair tied up in a messy bun at the base of neck. Hello wasn't the same as finding leftovers from the dinner prepared earlier and pulling all-nighters just to spend some time together.

Brione wasn't sure when this had turned into more, when she had started to want more. When she couldn't think of a tomorrow without him. At first, she'd just entertained it as little more than a fling, if she was going to die at the end of the year, then she could cross a few things off her bucket list. And, he was a friend. They'd met a few years before the SR-1, a one off meeting during her shore leave. Then they'd been squadmates, fighting their way through waves and waves of Geth, two snipers snipping at each other for their aim. It boggled the mind that it'd been so quick after Alchera, that she started to discover little things about him when she had little else to do. The small visits about the battery that turned into hour long conversations once she'd rejoined the Normandy. One or the other venting about a minor problem or a large one they'd held onto for so long they'd made a joke of it.

He'd patiently listened when she recounted the dressing down she'd been given after Torfan and the therapy sessions she'd attended afterwards. That, she'd never told anyone about in detail. Hated reliving the day, but it slipped from her mouth so easily while she'd been sitting on the crates. Then she'd sipped on some sort of tea Shepard had picked up on the Citadel, listening to him about Sidonis, about his time on Omega in general. That by the time they were within range of the relay, she'd simply decided she didn't want to let go. That there wasn't anyone like him, that there was so much left that she still wanted. They'd spent the night on the cot he'd dragged in here sometime ago, and she'd never felt so alive.

Then they'd survived. And then there was a whole new life expanding before her, with the Reapers looming over them. But she'd lived, they'd lived, and now she wasn't sure what they were. It wasn't a fling anymore, but she didn't know where he fit into her life.

Whether he wanted to fit in her life. She's sure he could have just about anyone, and he hadn't seemed too upset, giving her the way out of asking whether she wanted something closer to home.

How did he become her home? It could've been anywhere else, on Earth, in London, on the Citadel. But instead, it was a certain Garrus Vakarian.

"This isn't -- it isn't the end, Brione, not if you don't want it to be," He holds a hand out to her, "If I know Shepard, and I'd assume I do, she'll get us back into the thick of it within a couple months. If that."

"That might be a little optimistic," She responds, toying with her hair for a moment before grasping his hand, pulling herself up off the cot to look at him properly. She gently holds a hand against the scarred side of his head, brushing the rough plates with her thumb, "I would've been rather stupid to think this would last forever, running into the sunset. I'm just glad we had what we did, Garrus."

He leans into her touch, his other arm snaking around her waist. Why did it have to be him that she'd become attached to? The first person that'd make her feel more like a living being than a cold blooded killer that remained a few seconds from death every time she stepped off the ship?

Why is he all she can think about these days?

"I," He pauses again, "I'll always just be a comm away. If that's what you want, of course."

"Always, hm?" She asks, "Don't know how timezones work from Earth to Palaven, but if you haven't noticed, I'm not much of sleeping person. You could lose a lot of it, talking to me. But you've never minded it before now, I guess."

"It'd be better than nothing." He responds, when she drops her hand and instead pulls him closer to her. Maybe it's not the most comfortable with him in armor, and her still regularly needing their dwindling supply of pain meds, but she just wants to feel something, anything. She can't go back to the way things were, alone, and cold in an alliance apartment with nothing but her next meal going for her.

"I don't want to leave you, Garrus," She admits, her voice cracking. Brione won't cry, she wills herself not to, even as the dam strains against them, "You, damn you, you're...everything."

"You're...lovely yourself, Brione. Not like I'm itching to leave either, not when everything's already going right for once," He responds, the words thrumming through what she thinks are Turian subvocals. If Turians even can whisper, she's pretty sure he is while gently running his hands through her hair, then trailing down her back, "But I'm not sure I look all that good in...what was it Shepard called it? 'Jumpsuit orange'? Not sure how friendly the Alliance would be to me either."

"Probably not very," She tries to laugh, tries to force anything out at all, but instead all she gets is a choking sound that she could compare to a varren. A rogue tear slips out anyway, and all she hopes for is that Garrus can't see it. Why is she falling apart? Why now? She has a million and three battles under her belt, and this is what shatters her? Not a shotgun, not a scion, but this.

She'd said goodbye to so many people before. To her various adoptive parents over the years, her old COs, even Alenko more recently. None of them destroyed her like this was.

Relationships. They're impossible. They're weaknesses and vulnerabilities that your enemies are just waiting to take advantage of. Even more if your's is a cross-species liaison, one that shouldn't have become everything that it was now.

Brione doesn't want to live without him.

She can't bring herself to say it out loud, so she doesn't. He holds her a little while longer, they don't say anything but reassuring the other all would be well. Or at least they try, and it dissolves until silence when there isn't anything to say but repeat themselves ten times over. They sit for a while after that, time whittling down all the while. Her hands fit a bit oddly in his, but she can't find herself wanting to let go all the while.

Shepard's voice comes over the comm with a timer on their arrival, and she has to pick up her things, fastening the last button on her jacket and throwing her duffel bag over her shoulder. Garrus offers her one last lingering forehead touch when they reach the airlock, and she kisses him softly, knowing if she stays any longer, she won't be able to leave.

But she does. She has to be able to.

She sees him off, the glint of his blue armor the last thing she sees. She thinks she's the perfect picture of someone who was trying (and inwardly failing) to stay afloat with a forced grin and a wave as he walks off. Brione doesn't care, as much as the crew teases her about calibrations in more than one capacity. A few get a smile out of her, but she feels numb the rest of the way to Earth.

Cold. It settles in like an all too familiar blanket. The chill of not really seeing the faces of the people around her, nor acknowledging what they had to say.

She slips back into her normal routines, after the hearing. Doesn't even realize it at first, but without her usual visits to someone who wasn't dolled up in Alliance blue, there's nothing to it. She's shuttled back to the Citadel after a month, sent to work with Udina. A liaison to Alliance and from the Council, is effectively her job description. It's like clockwork, sleep, work, find something to eat if she was feeling physically up to it, work until she couldn't, then reluctantly sleep again. Fix up her sniper rifle on the weekends, take it to a range to keep herself sharp.

There's no Turian on her six though. No one there to bother her that her shot is off just a few inches so that clips the outside of the target.

She sees his face in every single one that walks by until they all blur together. She hears his voice in every C-SEC officer that speaks to Udina, to her.

It isn't until two months later that she receives a mail on her comm. Right in the middle of another one of Udina's tirades about the lack of Council support and funding, she opens it like any other email she'd received before. Calculating, tired, she reads over the sender, the subject line and is halfway through scrolling through it when the glaze over her eyes recedes and she realizes just who it is. Her breath catches in her throat, taking her leave for the afternoon.

She finally gets a call after work that day. And just as suspected, it keeps her up all night. There's so much to say, so much that she hadn't known. Her new job, his new task force. And yet, he still seems so indescribably happy to see her. That her eyes are barely being held open to focus on him, but that he's here, as much as he can be.

"Sure you don't want to take back that offer of always being on the other end of the comm? Now that we've done it, I might get a taste for it," She says, yawning as she absentmindedly rubs an eye. Udina will give her shit for being there late in the morning (in a couple hours really), but she doesn't care.

"As long as you want me to be," He nods, "Well, hopefully you don't start calling me at the oddest hours of the night or in the middle of meetings, but always, yes."

"Hm. I'll file it under consideration," She perches her head on her palm, taking in every detail the vid would let her, "Always?"

"Always. Now get some sleep, Brione," His voice softens, mandibles flaring into a smile as her vision blurs, "Good night."

Five months after that, communication to Palaven goes dark. The Reapers attack, and she watches wide-eyed as they touch down in Earth.

And her always becomes an empty promise with every refugee she watches come in during the days afterwards.

Garrus is not among them.

[ships-inside-your-head]

master of disaster

Kaminari, Ashido and Mineta could hardly believe their eyes as they watched Izuku Midoriya - one of the most honest and heroic students in the entire year - get into a police car like a criminal. What had they missed? When did Midoriya become a criminal? | dad might. master of disaster

Izuku had a problem and certainly not a small one. How else could it be? Whenever he found a problem - and he did it all the time, no matter what he did, even if he just did not want to do anything, shop, go out with friends, anything - it was never small. No. In the beginning, it might look trivial and then, bit by bit, it would turn out to be the mosaic of a complete disaster and, of course, he was right in the middle of it - as always.

Still, he could not fully explain why Mr. Aizawa and Present Mic were standing in front of him, in full gear, their shoulders taut, their lips narrowed and eyes screaming war. And all this in the police headquarters, in front of a group of people who all knew Izuku (which he only now realized - all the police knew him and most of them he could address by name, how many times had he been here?).

Sansa and Uncle Naomasa stood beside him, looking a bit confused when Aizawa stepped forward and fixed them with harsh eyes. "I want to know what the problem kid did." Izuku was hurt by his homeroom teacher's suggestion, but then he remembered all the incidents that had left him, or at least got in touch with the police department, and he made himself very small.

Naomasa looked at him seriously now. "Izuku, you did something?" The boy shook his head hastily. "Not that I know, honestly!" The last word was a mere reflex, knowing full well that Naomasas Quirk could tell if anyone was lying and Izuku was not, so it was doubly muted, but it was good , Stop it now.

His class teacher narrowed his eyes. "Can anyone explain why I got a panicked call from some of my students telling me that Midoriya got into a police car?"

Tormented Izuku closed his eyes. It had an innocent, almost simple beginning ...

ꕥ

He was beginning to panic, he was well aware of it, he felt that familiar pull, and actually he did not have time for that because he had to find a gift for All Might! He had his birthday soon (in three days) and Izuku still had no present and he felt like the worst successor in the whole wide world, how could he have forgotten that ?!

Now he was glad that he had remembered to make an appointment in his phone calendar, even though he probably felt very stupid last year, but he knew himself and his anxiety, and knew that otherwise he would step in and then the panic attack would definitely set in and he could not afford that! He still had a gift to find! The problem - he did not know what he should give to the former No. 1, the man was probably a millionaire and theoretically could buy everything himself. What did you give to such a person? Izuku just did not know it and it really messed him up.

Why couldn’t he be lucky? For hours (it really were more than two hours!) He walked up and down the mall, ignoring the uneasy feeling Shigaraki had left behind in him because he had more important things to do. But he did not find anything. It was to pluck hair! How could that be?

The goddess of fate did not mean well with him, when was the last time he'd had a lucky streak? He could not think of anything, but-

"Izuku?" Came a voice from behind him, and he spun around in fear, immediately in a defensive position, before he registered who was speaking. He let out a relieved breath. Funny, he did not realize he was holding his breath- "Uncle Nao!" He shouted, a happy grin on his lips as he saw the detective who was his unofficial uncle at this point in his life. The title spoke for itself. He smiled gently at him.

"What are you doing here? You look a lot lost, "he was asked, and now Izuku hung his head. "I'm trying to find a birthday present for All Might, but ... nothing seems right to me and his birthday is in three days and I can not find anything-" he gasped frantically and wanted to continue, when Uncle Nao put a hand over his mouth to stop him from talking on.

"Hey, Izuku, keep calm, I'm sure we'll find something suitable," the black-haired man said, and his hand landed on his shoulder. Hopefully, Izuku looked up. "We?" He echoed, and Naomasa grinned briefly. "Of course, I also have to come up with something for him, it's not easy to pick something for a millionaire."

Izuku's shoulders sagged. "I know, that's exactly what I thought. What does he like anyway? I know he likes to drink tea, even if he misses coffee. "

"He likes movies, too, especially the old children's movies from America. I think it was Disney? Something like that. He has a collection of them, but as far as I know he does not have them all. "

The boy's eyes lit up.

"I think I'm starting to get ideas! I know his favorite teas - he likes to drink Sincha and that American tea called Lapacho or something - and we can find out which films he does not have if I visit him tomorrow - probably better tonight - in his apartment at the dorm and look around then! I wanted to cook with him anyway, so that suits! Then you could order the two things - I'd give you the money back, of course - and then- "he gasped, his eyes beaming, his brain literally flipping over. "And I know his old phone case is going to break, but he never buys himself something, so I thought maybe I could draw something and you could order a personalized phone case, but I do not know what should be on it and oh my god, that will- «

"Izuku!", Naomasa's laugh tore him from his thoughts. "Eh?" He said mildly, looking wide-eyed at his pseudo-uncle. "Easy, catch your breath as you speak. These are great ideas and I already have a clue what you could do for the case. I found an old photo of him and his mentor when she was alive, but it's almost falling apart and maybe you can sketch it and we'll use it? "

Izuku's heart stopped as he thought of this possibility. He thought of All Might's surprise, his happy smile, what would follow - maybe even a few tears of joy ?!

"Yes! Oh yes, please! "He exclaimed and he literally jumped up and down. "But I need to draw the picture as fast as possible, how fast can you get it?"

"I have it in the police station, in a folder dedicated exclusively to Toshinori. If you are patient and I can get some coffee for my colleagues and myself, then you can come with me. I'll take you to U.A afterwards. "

"That would be perfect! In the meantime, I can begin to define the proportions and think about which colors would be best ... " Naomasa looked at him amused. "Well. I hope you do not mind sitting in the police car - unfortunately you'll have to sit in the back, you know, protocol. "

Izuku once waved his hands wildly. "Don’t worry, I understand. Hey, does Sansa really like fish more than usual or ...? " The detective laughed. "He does not like fish and seafood any more than anyone else. He's even allergic to shrimp. "

"Ohhh."

ꕥ

Izuku had not thought of it when Uncle Naomasa safely stowed the coffee in the car, then opened the door for Izuku and let him in before he got behind the wheel himself. On the contrary, he was excited that he could finally see a picture of Miss Nana and All Might when he was young - before his time as a pro-hero! The fanboy in him was about to hyperventilate. These were never seen pictures, it was as if he got a USSR card from All Might in his Bronze Age, only ... better!

So they arrived at the police headquarters - Izuku an excited bundle of nerves and Naomasa the calm in person including coffee.

Sansa was the first to notice them and greeted them with a big smile, raising one hand as a greeting. "Ah, Tsukauchi, Midoriya-kun, what are you doing here? I hope you have not stuck a bad guy to your butt again? "Joked the orange-haired man and Izuku laughed in embarrassment. "Ah, luckily not. Uncle Nao just wanted to help me with something else. But I have a very different question! ", With these words he pulled out his journal and a pen - he never simply let it stay at home, everywhere a new quirk could cross his path and then he would have to be ready!

Sansa raised his ears attentively. "Oh? What's it all about? "He asked, accepting the coffee from Tsukauchi thankfully. "I have questions about your quirk! Is your hearing better than other people's? Your sense of smell? Can you also look like cats in the night? Can you talk to cats and understand them? Can you purr? "

The officer looked slightly flabby at first, but he chuckled in amusement. "That's more than a question, Midoriya-kun!" The person addressed had the goodness to blush slightly before looking at the man with determination. "All right, all right, I'll tell you a few of my secrets."

Naomasa, on the other hand, shook his head in amusement before going to his office to look for the picture of why they were even here.

ꕥ

After that - otherwise Izuku could not describe it - everything went down the drain. Mr. Aizawa and Present Mic appeared and accusations flew - well, more or less.

"Um ... that might be because I got into a police car - but not because I did something, really! And I was not even allowed to sit in front, because of the protocol! Right? "He turned for help from his pseudo-uncle, who only nodded in agreement. Aizawa's eyes narrowed again. "Why is the problem child here at all?" He grumbled, not satisfied that he had to be here. The boy could not even blame him. "Well, I met Uncle Nao at the mall and, oh yes."

"We talked and made a small project together, which is why I took him here," Naomasa finished his sentence, skeptically Aizawa raised his eyes as Present Mic followed the conversation as if watching a tennis match. "What kind of project and why?" His class teacher looked at him sharply, and Izuku winced. "Do not I know about it?"

The human lie detector sighed deeply. "It's not official, otherwise I'd have contacted Director Nezu long ago-"

"It's all about birthday presents!" Izuku hurriedly - and much too loudly - exclaimed, so that a few more pairs of eyes rested on the boy, which he quickly regretted and so he made himself small. He could see how Mr. Aizawa relaxed, as if a burden had fallen from his shoulders. "Birthday Gifts?" He mumbled thoughtfully, and Present Mic looked excitedly at the boy. Hey, little listener! Who has his birthday and when ?! "he asked loudly and enthusiastically and Sansa ducked his head at the volume, which made  the blond realize he got quieter »All Might has its birthday in three days and we still wanted to work on the intricacies of its gifts! It's really harmless- " Suddenly Izuku hesitated in his explanation because he felt uncomfortable. A sense of danger caused him to think that he should run away, that there was danger, that he had to go, far away, just - Apparently, he was not the only one who had that instinct, for Izuku could see all the people present taking a defensive, ready position, some twitching with their hands as if they were reaching for their weapons, including his two teachers. Mr. Aizawa looked like he wanted to use his quirk, but the surest indication that something was wrong was Sansa. His pupils were nothing but slits, his fur was standing up and his ears were pressed against his head. If Izuku did not know better, he would have said he was facing a real cat. Tense silence spread in the room, no one dared make a sound or a movement. Izuku's heart began to accelerate, sweat appeared on his forehead and he saw that the others did not fare better. Footsteps sounded. If his heartbeat was fast before then it started to race. Wildly he looked in all directions. Uncle Nao had carefully drawn his weapon, a few others as well, as he now noticed. Everyone was incredibly tense. A clack, then ... the door opened gently and in came...  All Might. Normally, his sight would be enough for Izuku to relax, but not this time, this time he still had that fight-or-flight instinct, that left him frozen. The glowing eyes of his mentor once roamed the room before they fell on Izuku. »My boy" his deep voice broke the nerve-racking silence. "Is everything all right with you?" He just nodded helplessly, unable to bring words to his lips. There was still this overwhelming feeling- Izuku blinked in surprise. It was gone. His mouth opened and stared at his idol. Did this ... eerie, threatening aura that was similar to that of  All For One come from All Might? Then, as if nothing had happened, a small smile settled on the blond's face and he came closer. Perplexed, Izuku looked up. Most had also relaxed again, some packed their weapons away, but the fur of Sansa was slow to recover. "Forgive me for the disturbance. But I was in a hurry to come here when I heard from my students that young Midoriya was being held at the police station. " Annoyed Izuku groaned and now the ex-pro looked at him amused. "It was not like that! Where did those rumors come from ?! "He buried his face in his hands. "I do not know how Ashido, Kaminari, and Mineta came up with it, but they bothered me while showering." The very idea to bother one of his teacher - All Might! - during the shower , drove the blush to Izuku face. "I-I'm sorry!" He babbled helplessly, glad that he could hide his face. All Might laughed and ruffled his untamable hair. »Do not worry, my boy! You're fine and you can probably go right back, that's the most important thing. "As he spoke, the older man sharply looked at his best friend, who nodded. "I just have to give him something, and then you're welcome to go. If anything had really happened, I would have called you, "Naomasa raised an eyebrow and All Might smiled sheepishly. "Ah, I did not think that far, forgive me," he said softly as usual, and Izuku was astonished at the contrast his mentor showed from before.

Then he turned to the boy. "Are you going to tell me why this whole uprising was being staged?" He asked, and Izuku shook his head violently. "I can not, but it's not bad, I promise!" His eyes were probably the size of saucers, but he did not care, he just hoped his teacher would take it and stop asking

"Ahh, I'll have to trust you, huh? And as long as Naomasa-kun does not object, it can not be that bad ", now he sounded a bit amused again and Izuku breathed relieved. Then he had a completely different idea, he was seized by a childish panic. "We're still cooking together, are not we?" He asked frantically, fear seizing him. What if All Might was mad at him now because he had without meaning to made sure that three of his teachers had turned up in a panic, including All Might, who was disturbed while showering, dear God in Heaven!?

His mentor snorted. "Of course, calm down, that's no cause for panic."

Uncle Nao laughed meanly. "Exactly! Listen to your father! "

The former No. 1 nodded in agreement. "Right, you should listen to me-" he paused and then coughed wildly as he realized what he had just agreed to. To his chagrin, the green-haired boy made only an indefinable, shrill sound as he stared at his idol as if he had personally hung the moon.

"Y-you think I'm your son ?!" Izuku tried to calm down, really, but it was not his fault that his voice suddenly became so loud! He was absolutely thrilled and surprised and overwhelmed and-

"Yes! No! I mean-! Help! ", His mentor stared at his two colleagues for help, and Aizawa looked at him unimpressed and crossed his arms. "I'll stay out of it." However, this did not apply to Present Mic, who looked like he had won the jackpot in the lottery. "Oh yeeeeeeeeeeeee! Juicy! "

It was a testament to the amount of time that the two One-For-All users spent together that their first reaction was to bury their faces in their hands. The ex-pro had never done this before he knew Izuku. Naomasa could only snort in amusement when he saw that. He knew the blonde a little longer than the boy. "Oh, come on, Toshi, just adopt him."

"Naomasa-kun, that's not helpful! I  wanted to ask him if I could adopt him as my son in my own time! "

"You called me son, no take backs!", Burst it out of the boy and his idol looked at him with a look that seemed to say no-shit-sherlock.

"I knew that, my boy."

"Does that mean I should address Gran Torino with Gran Pa?" Izuku asked hesitantly. If All Might (!) was his dad now, and Gran Torino was somehow the pseudo dad of All Might, it made the old man his grandfather, right?

"Izuku!"

[spectraspecs-writes]

Kashyyyk - Chapter 79 (Jolee, Juhani)

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 78. Chapter 80.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

——————

As I head towards the medbay, I think I hear Bastila mumbling. And Jolee mumbling back, their voices are hushed. But when I enter the room, the talking stops. Wow, that’s a weird feeling. “Don’t stop on my account, I’m just here to look at the bump on my head.”

“The conversation was finished, anyway,” Jolee says nonchalantly. Which I doubt, but Bastila leaves so whatever. 

I start looking for something to tend to my head. “What were you talking about, anyway?”

“Eh, you know the story,” he says, “Young impressionable Jedi meets old man with lightsaber and asks him to share his great wisdom. Ha!” That, I buy. That sounds very much in-character for Bastila. “Asking about avoiding the Dark Side, what lessons I had for her, yadda yadda yadda.”

“Yeah, she bugs me about that, too,” I say, “Frankly if you can get her off my back, I’ll be grateful for it. She gets pushy sometimes.”

“I can tell she means well,” he says, “but even so, ‘pushy’ is a good word for it. And I’ve only known her for a day.”

“Kinda makes you regret tagging along, huh?” He chuckles. I find what I’m looking for and get to tending my head. “You never did say why you wanted to come.”

“No, I never did, did I?” he says with a cryptic smile.

“Are you always going to be this elusive?” I ask.

“Elusive? Me, elusive?” he repeats incredulously, “Obviously you've never tried to grab a Twi'lek dancing girl after drinking too much Ondaran willek juice.”

“As a matter of fact, I have.”

He laughs. “At any rate,” he says, “I already told you why I wanted to leave. I've seen everything I wanted to on Kashyyyk. Time to go, time to move on.”

“Move on to where?”

“To bed!” he says without hesitation, “I’m old and tired, you know.”

“Waking up before dawn will do that to you.”

He laughs again, shortly. “Your wit is a relief after all these years,” he says. “How many kilometer-high trees can you find an interest in before you figure you've had enough?” he continues, “I'd bet you can't be bothered to stay in one room for more than fifteen minutes. And then there's all the critters in the Shadowlands.” He shudders a bit, before handing me a small kolto patch. “Use that, it’ll take the swelling down,” he says, before finishing, “I'm just happy to be back in space, doing something new. Is that too much to ask?”

“You could have done that on your own,” I say.

“So I could,” he agrees, “Not having a ship does tend to put a damper on that kind of idea, however.”

“You could have bartered your way onto a Czerka ship or a merchant vessel.”

He shrugs. “I'll admit, for all its flaws, Kashyyyk was home enough. But when you came along and I saw the destiny you had before you, I couldn't help but be intrigued.”

I scoff. “You’re telling me you know what my destiny is?”

“Of course not. Weren't you listening this morning?” he says, “I can see that you have a destiny before you… but the details are far from clear.” He shifts a bit, like he’s trying to get a better look at me. “In fact,” he says, “everything about you that I can see is odd. Slightly off, as if my eyes are trying to trick me. Something…  something is very dark about you…” Well, that shit is ominous as hell. And why isn’t he talking anymore? You can’t just leave a statement like that hanging in mid-air like that, dude! “Bah!” he suddenly says, and I jump from the surprise of it, “I'm sure you don't need to hear my ruminations. You've probably got enough nosy Jedi offering you one opinion after another to make you sick.”

“Well, yes, but you can’t just tell me you see something dark and not tell me any more!”

“Your future will come of its own accord,” he says, trying to get me to relax, “Trust me. Sometimes navel-gazing at it doesn't get you anywhere. And I wouldn't worry about it too much, if I were you. You remind me a bit of Nomi” - he laughs a little - “and that can't be all bad.”

“Nomi?”

“Nomi Sunrider,” he says, reminiscing, “She came late to the Force, just as you have, and became one of the greatest Jedi ever. Oh, fine, fine lass.” Sounds like when he talks about love, he’s speaking from experience. “Whether you'll follow the same path remains to be seen. For one thing, we'll never get anywhere if you stand around chatting up old men all day. I’d almost say this little escapade reminds me of my adventuring times before the war, if we didn’t stand around so much. What’s keeping you? You’re too young to be this talkative. Your head is tended - shoo! Shoo!”

“Oh, because the medbay is your jurisdiction, now, is it?”

“I’m old, I’m allowed to camp out wherever I please,” he says, ushering me away, but smiling the whole time.

-------

The thirteen hours back to Tatooine are relatively boring. I did a bit of tinkering with HK, recovered some memories about his owner before the senator on Coruscant. He served as an assassin droid for a Hutt. (The Hutts didn’t build him, which means I’m still trying to get to the bottom of that mystery.) But what goes around comes around, and the Exchange took said Hutt out. In HK’s words, “the residents of that sector were fishing pieces of Hutt out of their soup for weeks afterward.” He’s still got more memory I could recover, but I got zapped by his support systems a couple times, more than I like on any given afternoon. Even if I hadn’t been, I think, from what I saw, I’ll need a specialized tool to get any deeper. A tool that I have - it’s a microspanner with a different end, a beam splitter - but I haven’t used it in ages. Most droids don’t have the insides that need it, not anymore. Like HK was built from older or salvaged parts. Either that or someone really liked that sort of system, which I can understand. It is pretty elegant, in my opinion. Some people like systems a little smoother, more intuitive, but when I’m building a droid I like to make it a little harder to get into, personally. At any rate, the tool is buried in my stuff, and I want to dig it out while I’m thinking about it, so I head into the starboard quarters to dig it out.

Juhani’s in there, alone. Her face is red. Redder than it’s supposed to be. “Juhani?”

She didn’t notice me come in. “Yes?” she says, “What is it?”

“Are you okay?”

“I… have been bothered by something of late,” she says, and she sounds like she’s struggling, “I never told you where I came from, did I? Where I grew up as a child? I suppose I was trying to deny what I was feeling…”

“What?”

She starts to sound angry. “I have been wrestling with my feelings inside. Trying to come to terms with it, but I find I cannot. I must have someone to blame!” She starts to get tense, clenching her fists. “Someone to blame for the destruction of my homeworld!” Destruction? “Someone who is responsible for the death of everyone I have ever known except those on Dantooine!”

Oh, God. “Do you mean…?”

“TARIS!” Oh, God, no. “It was Taris that the Sith destroyed to try to kill you and your precious Bastila! Taris, my homeworld!”

“God, Juhani,” I say, even though there’s nothing I can say, “I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”

“If it were not for you and Bastila, the Sith would have never had reason to destroy that world!” she fires at me, “It was your fault for being there, and your fault for rescuing Bastila! Without your intervention the Sith would have had no cause to lay waste to my childhood!” I try to stammer out a response, but she interrupts me. “Just let me vent my anger! I need someone to blame! Something -- anything!” I can understand that. “I hated that world, yet everything I learned as a child I learned there. It is as much a part of me as the air I breathe. I have this ache inside me where all my childhood memories lay, and I find your face there with them. If it was not for you, that world would still exist!”

Seems like Zaalbar coming home, his exile ending, stirred up some tensions I didn’t even know were there. Carth and his wife, and now Juhani, unable to ever return home. “I’m sorry, Juhani,” I say, “I don’t think there was any way to prevent it.”

“I… I know,” she says, suddenly calmer, “… I suppose I realized that. The Republic needs you and Bastila. Maybe needs you more than it needed Taris. But it is so hard to lose your entire past. You would not understand.”

“You’re right,” I say, “I don’t.” I don’t.

“I suppose that is to be expected. Everything will turn out for the best as long as we remain focused on our task.” She shakes her head. “I am sorry. I will try not to distract you in the future with my trivial experiences.”

“They’re not trivial, Juhani,” I say, “Maybe when you’re feeling up to it, you should talk to Mission. She’s from Taris, too, she went through something similar.”

Juhani shakes her head with a small grin. “Perhaps, but Mission and I clearly felt differently about Taris. She loved it. But for me, it was hell. To walk down the streets. To have people look at you in disgust; like an animal. Most did not know anything about me, but it was there all the same. Because I was an 'alien'. Because I was different from them, frightening. I doubt any of them had even seen my people before. So they persecuted me… They looked down on me and my family. Charged us more for food. Would not let us walk their streets. They spat on us. You are human… you could not possibly know. And Mission… things were different for Twi’leks. There were more of them. There were no other Cathar on Taris. No one to talk to. No one to confide in.” She huffs a bit. “But you must think me weak for saying this. But I am strong enough to admit it!”

Why are you putting words into my mouth? “You’re not weak, Juhani,” I reassure her, “It must have been hard.”

“I thank you for your concern, but… Bah!” she exclaims, “Maybe I am weak. To think that some stories of my stupid past could possibly interest you.”

She has a tendency to put herself down a lot, have you noticed that? “It’s alright,” I say, “I'm always here to listen if you want to talk.”

“I thank you,” she says, “You are kinder than I would have expected… To put up with me using you in this way. I hope that I will not use your time so badly in the future. Thank you.”

I find the tool in my foot locker, in the pocket of my old vest. Hardly old, I was wearing it a couple of months ago. I wonder where Mission is. I feel like playing some Pazaak.

[doyoungbunnyagenda]

Crown Of Thorns; Bed Of Roses -k.dy : Prologue

| [next] ->

Summary • Alcohol and late-night rendezvous were the only things keeping the young princess Y/N stable. Doyoung was an actor finding his relief his in cigarettes and dark streets. Ever since meeting one night, they both have spent their time picking up each other’s pieces and building each other from the ground up. When Y/N thinks her life is back on track, her childhood demons come back to bite her, however this time they have a proposal. That had to do with her father, herself and a shotgun… When Doyoung tries to rescue her from her demons, he puts himself in equally as much danger.

Pairing • actor!doyoung x modernprincess!reader

Genre • so much drama and equally as much angst, royalty!au

Word count • 1.32k

Warnings • description of death, mentions of grief, slight mention of suicide, fight scenes, swearing, mention of drugs

Songs to listen to • Don’t leave me - BTS, 지나갈테니 Been through - EXO

A/N • Nothing much to say other than I cried a bit while writing this. 

Autumn 2004 

Three thrones lined the elevated platform, the one on the left sat the king, clad in black with the country’s Crown Jewels adorned upon his head. In the second throne sat the young princess, at six years of age, also adorned in black staring at the floor like it was a means of escaping the reality she was facing. In the last throne, all that sat was a sliver tiara fit for a queen. She reached out her small hand out to the other side of the throne, expecting someone one to hold on to it out of affirmation. Like her mother always used to do...

The archbishop was reciting a sermon about life and death, but her young mind barely understood what the man was saying. Her pure focus was only on the cedar wood coffin that stood a couple of feet away from her. In it lied all she had ever known and truly loved. Even at her tender age, she realised, every day after this one will be completely different, a blanket of darkness will cover her life for however long it decides to stay. Someone very important to her had slipped between her fingertips like sand through an hourglass. She didn’t know the word at the time, but she was experiencing grief at it’s finest.

To the girl's surprise, she felt a presence next to her rise from their seat, She looked at the crowd before her and they all did the same. She followed suit. Like a puppy, she timidly trailed behind her father as he walked down the aisle of the church. Royal guards were carrying the coffin upon the shoulders leading it to its final resting place, six feet beneath her feet. One last prayer was said until the casket was lowered into the ground. One part of her wanted to fall into the hole with it. Oh, if she had known, she would have spent every other second they had left by their side. Whether it was trapped in a motherly embrace. Going on walks in the royal garden and picking flowers and sneezing because of the pollen intake. Laying in bed, being lulled to sleep by a voice so divine and angelic, it could tame the devil himself. 

Anything and everything was better than this.

Her father clutched her side as he whispered to the ground, tears streaming down his aged features, “She gone princess. She’s not coming back...”

This was the first time she had ever seen her father cry, (or anyone of that matter) reach this level of vulnerability. As a king, he was normally expected to keep a stone-cold exterior. Even to his own blood, he had a heart of pure obsidian. Never faltering lower than what was expected of him. More of the salty substance trickled from the corner of his eyes, staining his cheeks. If anyone looked hard enough they could see the broken man’s tears pooled on the top of the coffin.

Her dad grabbed his daughter by the hand and led her away from the dugout. She turned her head back looking at it. Breaking her strong resolve, she finally allowed her tears to escape from their confinements. She wasn’t coming back and it finally started to hit her. The force of the fact hit her like a forceful slap on the cheek, with her feelings of sorrow painfully lingering afterwards. The princess looked back in the direction of her father and finally realised that he had let go of her hand. He had gone off to talk to her uncle.

The man was a few years older than the king, but people barely noticed it. Sharing the same type of black slicked-back hair, with a couple of grey streaks. But the major difference was in their facial expressions. Her uncle’s face was distorted with a look of absolute fury. While her father looked taken aback, towering backwards slightly. For some reason, she'd always taken a liking to her uncle. She would even consider him as more like a dad than her actual father as he is around the place more often. Y/N, her uncle and his son Youngho were basically jointed at the hip. Her uncle was the one who tutored her and Youngho, her father and mother were far to busy for trivial things like that. Naturally, in whatever argument was going on, the princess took her uncle’s side.

“You caused all of this.” Her uncle spat, staring daggers into her father’s eyes. “If you weren’t here she’ll still be alive-“

“What d-do you mean-n?” The king stuttered, all of his remaining confidence shattering at the sight of his raging older brother. “It was a suicide, I had nothing to do her death.”

Her uncle let out a dark chuckle while shaking his head and said,” Lies... This is all a lie...” The slightly taller man started the king up and down. “Stop trying to act like you're innocent, acting like your the victim. You think you’re good at hiding it, don’t you? But every single person here knows you killed your own wife.”

Silence...

“So you’re silent huh?” He taunted,” You’re admitting it now, you should show your whole kingdom the kind of monster you are.”

“What kind of drugs did you take last night, to make you think this? How delusional can one man be?” Her father said melodramatically, “What demon could have possessed that stupid little head of yours to think that?”

“You stole the woman I loved away from me and threw her away like one of your many little playthings, all because she didn’t bear you a son.” He stated confidently,” All I ever dreamt of was to rule this kingdom with my queen by my side, but no. Your selfish ass couldn’t let me do that. You and your stupid ambitions got in the way of my dreams. I never got why daddy always favoured you.”

“You weren’t fit to rule-“

“FIT TO RULE I WAS!” Her uncle belted,” You stole everything from me; I can not let you get away with this one.”

He moved his head and whispered in the king’s ear,” You never even loved her anyway.”

Ashes to ashes.

“Take that back, I dare you or I’ll make you regret every piece of shit that just came out of your mouth.” Her father hissed balling his fists.

“I won’t do it without a fight.” Challenged his elder brother.

Dust to dust.

A punch was landed on his face.

A sharp red mark was imprinted on her uncle’s face, sure to leave a bruise later. The man looked back towards the king and charged him. A full-blown fistfight exploded between the two biggest powers in the country. Her two closest surviving relatives. Blood was splattered on the top half of their suits, tainting the material with the garnet red. The guests watched in horror as the fight escalated. Running up to her, the girl's aunt took her hand and quickly dragged her away from the two fighting men. She quickly signalled for a driver to come and take Y/N and Youngho away from the situation. The kind woman ushered her and Youngho into the black limousine. The last thing she saw and heard from outside was her uncle lying on the muddy grass looking dazed with a beaten-up face and bloody ripped nose. The words that came out of her father’s lips were as followed:

“Tomorrow evening, you shall be exiled, never to step a foot in this kingdom for 13 years. If you are found on my land before then you shall be executed. Heed my warning. I don’t mess around.” Then he walked away.

With quivering lips, she faced your older cousin,” Youngho... I’m scared” she murmured, clutching on to his arm, resting her head on his side as tears poured out of her eyes and onto his arm.

“I am too, I am too...”

[split-n-splice]

A chapter in which Drakken is a purveyor of human suffering and Shego is a bad apple. owo

[Chapter Guide]

5. Enabler – 2

Shego couldn’t help scrutinizing the twitchy man as he pulled out a small leather-bound notebook from under his newspaper and flipped it open to a blank page. He held out an expectant hand, but she just stared at it suspiciously, her glower asking a question she didn’t have to say out loud, which he read even with his dorky magnifying goggles on.

“You’re getting an upgrade,” he claimed. It did little to alleviate her suspicions.

She was reluctant to humor him, but offered up a single glove nonetheless and watched him carefully. The curious man examined the meager article of clothing, looking it over inside and out. He hem-hawed.

From a distance, there was nothing unusual about her gloves – they were just gloves. She’d been heckled by villains before that they looked like dishwashing gloves. Shego knew her own gear well though, and knew they were more than what met the eye, as Dr. Drakken was surely finding out now as he studied the clusters of pin-holes dotting the hefty fabric, the palms and fingers laced with tiny eyelets. At a glance, the pattern might appear to be for grip, but Drakken wasn’t so quick to dismiss them.

“These holes, they’re for…breathability?” he guessed.

“Doy,” was as eloquent a confirmation as he was going to get. He was too distracted to snip at her for the attitude though, and her guard slowly lowered as she studied him. The thought of an upgrade was both tempting and laughable, but she wasn’t laughing. “The gloves hold me back. I don’t even know why I bother with them,” she admitted.

Demonstrating on impulse, she held both hands over the countertop, palm up, and watched as Dr. Drakken flinched back when they flared with her bubbling green plasma. The glow radiating from her covered hand was noticeably dampened, physically rather than drug-induced, by restricting the amount that could escape.

She wasn’t proud as she explained, “GJ designed them to keep me from going overboard on the firepower. I got carried away sometimes. So they did everything they could to keep me dialed back without making me useless to them.” She shrugged meekly. Even without full power, she could serve a hell of a sucker punch and leave second-degree burns, though the whole point of being a hero was to help more than harm.

“I see,” muttered Drakken.

He relaxed when she snuffed out her glow and pulled her hands out of sight behind the counter, tucked safely between her knees.

The blue man began jotting down notes on the pad. “Your hands still need protection though, so an upgrade is in order. These are getting worn out anyway.” He tapped his pen on his chin, humming. “Subduing you won’t do. I’d rather amplify this glow of yours if possible.” When he caught a glimpse of her piqued interest, he smirked. “I’m sure I can find something to conduct it.”

Fixing her face with mask of indifference, she refused comment. As the blue man sketched and scribbled nonsense across two pages of his notebook, Shego began to shift uncomfortably across from him. She sipped her soda, unsure if she was free to go yet. After a couple minutes, she was about to slip off the barstool and leave him with the glove, but he spoke up again.

“Can you produce this energy from anywhere else?” he wondered without lifting his attention from the notebook.

That was an invasive question if she’d ever heard one.

Shego narrowed her eyes at him, leery once more. The deep-rooted fear of becoming a lab rat and subjected to studies reared its ugly head, but she beat it back. This guy had been bullied out of the driver’s seat earlier and could be pressured doing her bidding with stupid threats like breaking the seals on his hoard of pickles if he didn’t drive her to Cow-n-Chow. So if he thought he could turn her into a test subject, he had another thing coming.

In any case, if she was hoping to make anything of this stint with the rogue doctor, then complying could work in her favor. Especially if he was willing to engineer custom gear for her.

She swore she’d spat fire at him before, a long time ago, but she couldn’t be sure. She was tempted to try coughing up plasma-laced phlegm to see if that would jog his memory or at least answer his question, but she resisted. If nothing else, the spoken truth would have to serve as a warning that her fists weren’t her only weapons.

“I can,” she said vaguely, and held out her bare hand again to show him her palm, sans glow. “My hands are just convenient.” Channeling the energy to her hands was second nature to her now, and over the years they had become the only area completely desensitized to the fire aspects. Although she still had all her nerves intact, and she still felt it when he reached out for her hand. She fought the impulse to jerk it back as she let him have a closer look, unsure what he expected to find.

His mouth twisted into a frown as he inspected her smooth fingertips and palms, much more interested in the faint old scars and lack of identifying fingerprints than her freshly-painted nails. “Does it hurt?” he ventured. “The glow, I mean.”

She was becoming increasingly aware how rough his hands really were in comparison.

Shego shrugged. “Used to. Now it kinda just tingles. But I mean, the first time it happened – that was yow.” She laughed a little nervously at the recollection of blacking out from searing pain and the bandages she’d worn for some time afterwards. Discovering her power in a hospital ward in Global Justice’s custody wasn’t a fond childhood memory. “It took time for my body to adapt, but I got used to it.”

The rogue doctor gave another thoughtful hum. “How did you even acquire this glow?” he asked, dumbfounded.

Her smile was brittle and crumbled away even as she quipped, “Y’know, you’d know all of this if you’d stopped to read my file.” She otherwise refused to answer.

The geeky man must have realized by now that she wasn’t so open to talking about it, because he mumbled a sheepish apology for prying and released her hand he’d probably only just realized as well that he’d hung onto for way too long. He quickly shifted his attention away in favor of her glove and the notebook.

It was another moment before Shego spoke again. “So, you’re gonna upgrade my gloves?” she asked carefully, and when he nodded, she willingly forfeited the other. Folding her arms over the counter, she leaned forward and chewed on her lip as she watched him compare them briefly for any differences beyond color.

Shego couldn’t help smirking. “You could have just asked for the specs,” she snickered lightly, and tapped on the notebook where he was brainstorming some gibberish in the tiny illegible scrawl of a doctor. She hummed wistfully after another moment, musing, “I used to think it would be totally rad to have, like…claws. But it didn’t fly with big brother.”

“Claws,” Drakken echoed in disbelief, looking back up at her finally. “Isn’t that…I don’t know, a little tacky?”

“Says you. Those goggles and that polo shirt? Yeesh.”

Drakken grunted. His face was tinged with a funny shade of purple. “You want claws, I’ll make you claws,” he sighed agreeably.

“Seriously?” She considered telling him it was a joke, but was curious now if he’d deliver. A smirk quirked her lips. The whole thing was probably a huge waste of his time, but it might be fun to see how much of his time she could waste.

“Sure,” he groaned, and removed the magnifying goggles to rub his eyes and push his usual glasses back on.

As the man squinted down at his notebook, Shego caught herself staring, inwardly musing that he might be more intimidating without his nerdy spectacles – but that was only logical. The small accessory advertised a form of weakness, however trivial and necessary, which wasn’t conducive to aspirations of being feared and respected. “You should lose the glasses,” she announced flippantly, and acted before she could think twice about snatching them off his face.

“Excuse you!” he barked, reaching across the counter for them, but she held them out of range. “I need those. They aren’t a toy.”

“I’m tellin’ ya,” she twittered as she inspected the snatched eyeglasses and then him. “You’d look badass without them. It shows off your scar better.” As she slipped them on herself, she wondered inwardly if it was the same warped and clouded vision he experienced without them. She peeked over the rim at him squinting peevishly at her.

“I’d say you look cute, but I can’t be sure,” retorted Dr. Drakken dryly, as if it were meant to be offensive. “Unfortunately, I still need them, so fork them over.” He held out a hand, fingers beckoning for the return of his glasses.

She obliged reluctantly, and he finished a couple more notes before peering back up at her, his inquiring gaze lingering a little too long for comfort while she sipped on root beer. “How long have you been like this, anyway? How did it happen?” he wondered, though it felt more like idle chitchat now. She almost answered until he added, “Team Go sprang up just a few years ago and it was short lived, but—”

Guard shooting back up, Shego snatched her gloves back and fixed the startled man in a heated glare. “Where you snooping?” she accused, paranoia rising.

“Easy, Shego, easy. I wasn’t snooping,” Dr. Drakken defended calmly, hands up in peace. “It was on the news. I’m entitled to watch the news.”

It took a long moment balancing on the precipice of distrust before she backed away from that ledge. He had a point there. She couldn’t hold it against him, no matter how much she detested the thought of him knowing anymore about her than she was willing to share herself. It was information the general populace of Go City already knew anyway.

Shego set the gloves back down and breathed deep, but still didn’t answer his question.

Thankfully, Dr. Drakken didn’t press it. “I was only making small talk,” he muttered, and it seemed he was ready to drop the subject altogether now because he was tucking his notebook into the pocket of his trousers and circling around the kitchen island to rummage around in the freezer.

Shego relaxed slightly, sitting back down and swiveling in her barstool to watch his back and sip her soda as the quiet blue man tasked himself with preparing a TV dinner. Looking to the favored frying pan gathering dust up on the wall with all the others, she wondered when he’d last cooked a real meal for himself. Not that she was about to do it for him.

Watching him ignore her, she considered a bargain long and hard before she finally spoke up again. “I’ll tell you,” she called over. It wasn’t like that information hadn’t already been leaked anyway. Nonetheless, Drakken glanced over his shoulder inquisitively. “If you tell me what your deal is with the all the blue.” And if he tried to tell her it was because he had the blues, so help him, she might just hit him with plasma.

He turned to face her fully and just stared curiously for a moment. “You want to know why I’m blue?” he asked dumbly, as if no one had ever asked the obvious before.

She gave a halfhearted shrug in confirmation.

The man leaned back on the counter and frowned, rubbing his neck as if the subject was a sore spot, but he chewed it over and took a deep breath before giving her the gist of it. “Classic tale of an experiment gone wrong,” he said with a moody huff. “It wasn’t even mine. I was an intern at a research lab owned by some big shot, Gemini. Some damn top-secret experiment malfunctioned, I got caught in the crossfire, and there you have it. I’ve been reduced to just the blue freak ever since.”

“Gemini?” Shego uttered, blinking at him. Hearing that familiar name shouldn’t have been so surprising. Still, it was unexpected. She tilted her head questioningly. “Did he have a personal vendetta against the director of Global Justice?”

“Bingo.” He shot a finger gun at her. “How many Gemini do you think there are?”

Shego eyed him suspiciously for another moment, until the man began to shift uncomfortably. She racked her brains, connecting the dots, and took a wild guess as to the picture it formed. “You don’t happen to have superstrength, do you?” she asked with a small incredulous laugh, but Dr. Drakken only gave her a funny look. She took that as a negative. “Do you know what he was trying to do?”

The man’s brow furrowed at her, as if he was the one ill at ease now. Good. “Not a clue,” he said slowly. “It wasn’t my post. Why?”

She only smirked and waved dismissively. “Nothing.” She didn’t need any more details anyway to convince her that the whacked-out twin brother of Global Justice’s head honcho had been trying to recreate Team Go. Had Gemini ever succeeded, she was sure she’d have known about it.

Dr. Drakken made a pleading sort of whine and tapped a foot irritably, and he didn’t need words to convey he was displeased that she clearly knew something about his condition that he didn’t.

She denied an explanation though, instead scoffing to herself and shaking her head in amazement. She might share her suspicions later, if she was feeling nice. “Small world, that’s all,” she mumbled.

“Indeed,” grumbled Dr. Drakken. He spun around and slumped over the counter to watch the microwave, as if there was really something of interest was going on in there. “Your turn, Shego.”

But Shego smirked wryly, leaning back on the counter and crossing her legs, giving her foot a bounce. “I said I’d tell you. I never said when I’d tell you,” she teased.

Drakken groaned. “Of course.” He hung his weary head, though it was counterproductive in trying to rake his hair back as he ran his hand through it. He waved dismissively at her, ordering, “Be gone, then. Dementor is bound to want payback, so go watch the surveillance or something.”

“Aye-aye, captain,” she said, hopping off her barstool and leaving her gloves and a smashed soda can behind. She had more engaging company to track down.

Shego had to mindfully keep her pace in check until she was out of Dr. Drakken’s personal living quarters, and from there she all but skipped through his workshop and down the twisting flight of stairs. She didn’t even pause to check the surveillance feed, taking the shortcut through the office to hit up the rec room in henchmen’s forbidden domain.

She’d found a routine over the course of the first week, the scenario quickly becoming part of her daily ritual. Dr. Drakken would unwittingly put her on surveillance watch, and while he was busy tinkering in his lab or vanished into the depths of the lair, Shego might order some pushover henchman to the CCTV desk in her place while she occupied herself with the rest.

They were all threatened to keep her prohibited visits on the down low, though she sensed threats of knuckle sandwiches weren’t what kept them quiet. More likely, the thugs just didn’t want her ban being reinforced. She was fine with that, to an extent.

It was unfortunate she wouldn’t have the enjoyment of breaking the tantalizing rule of don’t mingle with the henchmen for much longer. By day, she made it her business in the lab to annoy Dr. Drakken at regular intervals with trivial things like mocking how creepily engrossed he’d become over a stupid pair of gloves, or by refusing to budge from his cushioned computer chair when she was ordered to come test the effectiveness of new adjustments. He would be sick of her by evening and tell her off, usually shooing her down to the office, when she could slack off and go join the guys.

Eventually, she was caught red-handed.

++X++

The special order had been a welcomed distraction from the monotony of constructing power staves of a short life expectancy and shorter warranty for a villainous client. After several days of several scrapped prototypes to give him grief, Dr. Drakken at last finalized what he hoped would the last set of custom gloves he slaved over for a while.

Just as he applied the finishing touches, something missing began to nag at him. He poured over a mental checklist and looked over the new-and-improved gear, but that wasn’t it.

He was ready to proudly present the polished product of his handiwork when he discovered he was alone.

Which shouldn’t have been so damn disheartening.

Over the past couple weeks, he’d begun to get used to not being the only soul in the lab, whether he liked it or not. If it weren’t for the aloof subordinate’s nitpicking or devotion to being a nuisance, he might say he enjoyed the company, even if she wasn’t much for conversation. There was something relieving about having someone other than himself to divulge his process to at least, even if it did go in one ear and out the other with an occasional scoff or snarky remark he had to decipher as feedback.

So when Drakken turned around to call for her, the name died on the way out as he scanned the hollow cavern of his lab. He pulled back his sleeve to check his watch, brow furrowing. It wasn’t even noon yet, and he couldn’t recall dismissing her. The subordinate wasn’t duty-bound to stay by his side though, so he shook off the undue disappointment.

He checked his living quarters, expecting to find her scrounging up a lunch in his kitchen or lounging on his couch watching television. When he didn’t find her there, he prowled across the lair to her bedroom and rapped on the door, ready snip at her if he found she was napping, but he received no response. Boss or not, he grudgingly accepted the potential for repercussion if he were to invade the volatile woman’s privacy by simply opening her door to steal a peek.

His next course of action was to stalk down the hall and to his office to scan the surveillance feed in hopes of pinpointing where the elusive woman had strayed off to.

When he did find her, he was none too pleased with where.

Skipping the intercom, he set off at once, winding deep into the lair, to order her back to the lab in person. It was good to show his face to rest of his subordinates once in a while anyway – to at least remind them who the boss was around here.

Drakken stepped out on the catwalk that ran through a spacious man-made cavern serving as the gym, and glared harshly down at the scene below him. His frown quickly dissolved as he stared, puzzled.

For a minute, Dr. Drakken wasn’t sure if he was watching interpretive dance or a genuine quarrel among the four involved below. The swings and kicks of the henchmen held a very real force behind them, but the former superhero ducked and dodged with fluid movements and feline grace. She must have had the situation under control, because when she held up her hands to signal for a timeout, the men froze and allowed her to go along physically manipulating stances and chiding them before they resumed at her goading – or order? – to come at her like they meant it.

By the bruises and welts blemishing their faces, Drakken surmised that this wasn’t the first time they’d had such a session, but what began as a sparring exercise escalated as the men became increasingly frustrated with the newcomer continuously besting them. Drakken watched as their demeanor began to slowly change as their tempers rose, and he gripped the guard rail as he waited with baited breath for some sign it was time to intervene.

In a maneuver that made Drakken wince, he watched as Shego dove at one goon and flipped him over, pulling a backbend to slam the brute on his head. She proceeded to bounce away in time to evade another henchman charging at her with his fists flying. She laughed meanly as he stumbled over his fallen comrade, and she turned to try catching the third to attempt the move again, perhaps to test if the bumbling idiots would fall for the same trick twice. This one had wizened up and avoided her hold, but while she was dodging his punches and kicks, she managed to slip behind him, and even Drakken was surprised when she seized him by his belt and wife-beater, hoisting the thug clear over her head to toss him into another.

Even without her glow to aid her, she was stronger than she looked. She must have a touch of superhuman strength too, Drakken decided as he studied the woman jeering as his men, coaxing them onto their feet to attack her again. The sparring carried on for a few more minutes, the newcomer smiling and laughing in delight every time she got the better of the henchmen she toyed with.

Shego was rather enjoying herself. The henchmen, not so much.

And strange as it was, Drakken might have been enjoying it a little bit too, because he folded his arms on the rail to loiter, watching the show with profound interest. True, there was some shame seeing his men defeated with such ease, but he still smirked at the flicker of glee to have someone better than them on his team.

Some minutes later, two men still left standing managed to get the best of her. While one distracted her, the other swept a leg under her heels from behind, her reaction time just an instant too slow. As she fell back with a startled yelp, the men closed in, one of them snatching her arms so she couldn’t catch herself and bounce back up, and the other grappled for her ankles. Her smile was replaced with a disgusted sneer. Shego’s amusement had vanished as they fought to pin her down while she writhed and gnashed her teeth at them as she swore orders to let her go.

One henchman on the sideline nursing a black eye shouted at the active players to watch out for her hands, but the fools didn’t heed his warning as they scrapped with her on the floor.

Drakken couldn’t believe their impudence as the henchmen’s objective became crystal clear. One kept a secure grip on her wrists and the other fought past her thrashing legs to her belt. She was clearly not enjoying the roughhousing anymore as she spat a final warning at them to back off or else. Orbs of plasma were charging up in her hands when Drakken whistled sharply for attention.

Everything halted, if only for a split second.

The startled men released her and backed off abruptly when they finally realized they were being watched, and Shego hastily leapt to her feet, stumbling as she whirled on the men to discharge her plasma blasts at them as they scrambled out of the way. By the shouts of alarm, the two oafs having a go at her hadn’t known about her superhuman gifts.

The livid young woman turned her back to all, her head down and mane of hair sparing her from having to look at anyone for a moment while she fixed her belt and checked her zippers. She took a moment to calm own, heaving and visibly reigning herself in as she flexed her fingers, glow flickering erratically until it ceased.

She didn’t thank Dr. Drakken for the intervention, oh no. Instead she glared at him up on the bridge above, her lips pulled back over her teeth in displeasure as if he were the one in the wrong here. “I didn’t need you calling off your dogs!” she snapped indignantly up at him. She spat in their direction for good measure as she retreated up the staircase to join him, the steel rattling with each hasty stomp.

“Oh, I know you could destroy them if you wanted,” Dr. Drakken said airily, hoping to let it go for the moment. Though it did give him an idea for cruel and unusual punishment. He glared down to the henchmen returning to their exercises, but they didn’t look terribly shamefaced for attempting to assault the new recruit. Something about the grins the two instigators exchanged was enough for Drakken to go with his gut and write them off.

“Don’t disappear on me,” Drakken called to the newcomer’s back as she made for the exit ahead of him. “I need you in the lab.”

“Whatever,” she snorted.

Drakken almost snipped at her to watch her tone when speaking to him, but thought better of it.

On the way back to the upper level, the woman slowed her stomp. She combed her fingers through her hair and smoothed down her uniform, and double-checked her belt to be sure everything was in perfect order. Finally she threw a glare over to Dr. Drakken as they entered his office, and he knew the elephant in the room hadn’t disappeared just because they’d left the henchmen back in the gym.

“Here’s the deal, Doc,” she ground out bitterly. “If you wanna keep me around, you’ll get rid of them.”

He blinked over at the tense scowling woman stalking alongside him. He might have already planned their dismissal on impulse, but the subordinate’s command still surprised him and elicited an obstinate reaction. “What makes you think you’re more valuable than them?” he retorted in reflex, not especially happy to be bossed around to such degree.

Shego scoffed. “Because they’re a bunch of Henchschool dropouts and have to tag team for more than an hour just to wear me out enough to knock me down,” she answered, following him up the stairwell. “I’m not working with sex offenders that are gonna try pulling some sleazy shit on me. That goes for you too.”

“Understandable,” Drakken grudgingly grumbled, and he swore he could feel the daggers gouging into the back of his head. He’d have to brush up on everyone’s records. “Whatever happened to them being a bunch of pansies? I thought you wanted to hang around hardened criminals and lowlifes.” If it had been an attempt to lighten the mood, he’d failed miserably, quickly realizing she didn’t find his teasing humorous when he peeked back.

The woman snorted again and sneered, “Not the kind that are gonna turn on me like animals.”

He shook his head, grimacing. “It comes with the territory, Shego. If you had stayed away from my men like you’ve been told, they wouldn’t be a problem,” he argued weakly, but suddenly she was a step above him, looking down at him as she poked him hard in the chest, her glare burning into him. She could push him down the stairwell to his demise if she wished. It was pretty steep, and he was suddenly all too aware he’d never had a handrail installed.

“It’s me or them, Dr. Drakken,” she seethed venomously. “This is nonnegotiable. I mean it. They go or I go. What’s it gonna be?”

Dr. Drakken held up his hands in peace. “Okay, you,” he hastily agreed before he could overthink it. “I choose you. Henchschool dropouts, as you put them, are dime a dozen, but there’s only one of you. I’ll review staff tonight, if it makes you happy.”

“Good,” Shego said arrogantly, and turned back up the stairs, leaving him to tug his collar and hope she hadn’t seen the sweat on his brow. “You know, if you didn’t have that kind of criminal on your team, maybe you wouldn’t have to worry about them acting out of line.”

“What can I say? They’re cheap,” Drakken admitted unhappily behind her. “It was never an issue before.” It wasn’t like there was a foolproof way of weeding out such seedy fellows, but he wasn’t about to argue the matter here on the staircase, no matter how tall the order.

Shego peered back at him with a withering glance that told him she would be holding him to his word, but for now that was the end of the discussion.

++X++

Back up in the nerdy tech lab littered with scrap fabric and half-built staves, the rogue doctor wasted no time in handing over the new and improved pair of gloves.

The old pair from Global Justice was looking rather shabby in comparison, fiber frayed around the knuckles, and signs of wear around the palms as well. Shego was happy to toss them aside. Inwardly thrilled that the self-proclaimed mad scientist had actually come through for her, she kept a lid on her eagerness as she pulled on the brand new custom pair.

The new set looked slightly less like dishwashing gloves, with lightly padded knuckles, and sleek and slim-fitted over the fingers for dexterity. Seamlessly incorporated into the tough specialized fabric at the fingertips were the so-called claws she’d requested in jest and had tried to tell him so repeatedly. Though she was sure he’d added them to remind her to be careful what she wished for, she was still pleased by the surprisingly natural feel of the unobtrusive extensions.

More importantly, the hand protection didn’t hinder her glow at all – and most shockingly of all, her glow was indeed amplified to some degree, just as promised though she wasn’t even sure how he’d managed the feat. It only took one flare up to find out that much.

The new set of gloves fit like a dream to boot, but she knew that much from earlier prototypes. It was still something else to see it all come together in a finished product.

Depending how they held up, she might have to finagle more out of him.

Shego’s smile fell and she jumped when the blue man cleared his throat behind her. Wearing a strange sneer that almost passed as a smirk, he suggested she take the new gear out back to put them to the test. She hadn’t been outside in days, not even for a smoke break, and the thought of fresh air – along with releasing pent-up energy and getting a feel for what her new liberating gloves were capable of – was effective in bringing the smile back to her face.

She expected Dr. Drakken alone to accompany her. She was wrong.

He stopped before he could exit the lab with her, humming as a thoughtful look crossed his face, and turned back. She was told to wait outside for a surprise.

She wasn’t sure if she liked the prospect of a surprise, but she wasn’t kept waiting or guessing for long. As much as she itched to blast something while she waited, she resisted taking it out on the parched pines climbing up the slope beyond the expanse of blacktop wrapping around side of the oversized garage.

When he joined her, she was sure she didn’t like the surprise, whatever it was. Not keen on being made an exhibition, it had her frozen with a sort of stage fright as his crew of henchmen marched out from the side-door of the garage after him. Approximately a dozen rugged men – she didn’t stare long enough to count – congregated, all in red jumpsuits. The masks that usually concealed the better half of their faces were removed, but the broken dress code was the least of Shego’s concerns.

Dr. Drakken came to stand beside her, giving her a wry smirk, and motioned for the gangliest of his crew. The youngest henchman scurried out hastily to set up a row of plywood dummies for target practice and retreated back to the audience just as quickly. The rogue doctor then gave Shego’s back a small push and curt words of encouragement, “Go on. Show them.”

Her fists balled at her sides. She wasn’t so sure about being put on display like this. She’d spent enough of her life being a spectacle.

The chief must have read her hesitation, because he frowned at her and then turned to address his crewmen with biting authority, pacing like a drill sergeant with hands gripped behind his back. “There seems to be some confusion lately. It seems some of you think our newest addition is a secretary, or here to be your plaything,” he barked at his crew, dripping with derision as he issued a warning. “Make no mistake. A lovely little thing she may be, Shego here is your superior, and may God have mercy on the next man to lay a hand on her.”

The booming tone of his reproach was jarring compared to the softer indoor voice used whenever he wasn’t worked up or hollering across the lair. It surprised her for a second, but she reminded herself he was an aspiring villain after all, and most had to put on a mean show if they wanted to be taken seriously, especially by a bunch of thugs as underpaid henchmen tended to be.

“Flatterer,” she hissed under her breath. Her face was hot. It was an underhanded way of goading her on, even if superior sounded nice. She took it with a grain of salt though.

Returning to her, Dr. Drakken narrowed his eyes and impatiently ground out through his teeth, “Hurry up and light some fire under their asses, Shego. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Her reservations aside, Shego swallowed and nodded despite the onlookers watching her back. As she had so often in Go City, she tried to pretend they weren’t there as she let her clenched fists ignite. Four throws was all it took to reduce four dummies to a mess of splinters and flaming debris. It was overkill. Without her medication and old gloves, it was too easy to overcharge the blows, but the gloves held up. She’d really have to practice discipline now, she realized.

Nonetheless, she took a deep steadying breath and stared in wonder at her own hands. Her lips quirked into a smile, which Dr. Drakken caught and mirrored tenfold.

The man got his grin under control as he came to stand perhaps a little too close and fearlessly considering he’d just watched her obliterate targets with ease. “Well?” he pressed, lowering his voice to keep it between them. “How’s it feel?”

It was a stupid question when the answer was written on her face already. Between the new liberating gloves and having prescribed suppressant out of her system, she felt glee bubble up and escape in a small laugh. “Amazing,” she confirmed a little too happily. If she weren’t suddenly aware they were being watched by an audience, she just might have hugged the man for making such freedom possible – but she quickly locked that notion away. Such gratitude would be unbecoming of her now.

He was sidestepping away anyway, clearing his throat. He fixed the crew in a deep scowl. “Any questions?” he called out brusquely, but the crew remained silent. He stroked his chin as he paced along the row, and picked out two men from the crowd, beckoning them forward with a finger rather than by name. Either of the men could have flattened Drakken if they so wished, yet they humored him with hateful glares he appeared to willingly overlook.

Shego’s stomach lurched as she glared back at the loathsome men who’d made an attempt to rough her up mere minutes ago. Sure, she still burned with malice, but she couldn’t help flicking a disconcerted glance to the blue man presenting them to her as if they were gifts. Dr. Drakken’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, and he raised his brow expectantly as he nodded to them.

She had a hunch what was coming, but she was done. Demonstrating her capability on wooden dummies for the ignorant crew was enough. Still she had the gut-wrenching suspicion he had every intention of pushing it further. There was no reason to push it further, and yet—

And yet, Dr. Drakken was speaking loud and clear again. “Since they thought they could have their way with you, why don’t you return the favor and have your way with them, hm?”

Both humiliated and put on the spot, her skin crawled as she studied the grave mask of malevolence Dr. Drakken wore as he shoved the larger of the two men roughly toward where the incinerated targets had stood.

Shego stared at the new dummies standing rigid in their place. Live dummies.

Even if they deserved a lashing and she had reason enough to bear a grudge against the men, she wasn’t sure about raising a hand to them as they were. She would have wailed on them in the gym minutes ago had Drakken not interrupted, but now they were just standing there among the cinders and ash, doing nothing more offensive than giving her ugly looks.

Shego glanced to Dr. Drakken again, waiting for him to laugh and say it was all a twisted joke, but the stoic man stood to the side with his hands behind his back, reminiscent of a bailiff watching men on trial.

She was frozen like a deer in the headlights, stunned with disbelief at what was expected of her and entirely unsure how to proceed with dishing out punishment. Her fists curled as she weighed how badly she wanted to see them hurt.

After another moment, Dr. Drakken stalked back to her, shaking his head in exasperation, and grabbed her roughly by the arm. She almost twisted away. “Shego,” he hissed quietly. “You’re making me look bad. Show me you can be merciless.”

“But—,” but she was interrupted before she could articulate an excuse.

“Need I remind you, had you been any ordinary girl, these men would have hurt you. Horrendously. So punish them already and get it over with. Kill them if you want. They’re expendable.”

“Kill?” she uttered in surprise. She’d been at least partially responsible for deaths before – by mistake – in the heat of the moment – but it couldn’t be proven she was to blame for the casualties. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see the goons on display pay after what they’d tried, but murder might have been a touch too severe.

Suddenly one of the men on trial made the dire mistake of calling the bluff, and not in a particularly clever way. “Pussy,” the thug coughed under his breath. The man was cracking. The moron must have decided to let his mouth go unchecked if he was on death row for a little misconduct. “What’s wrong, boss? You sore the mistress is a slut?”

Like she hadn’t been called names before.

Before Shego could roll her eyes, the crack of a gunshot split the air and the offender jumped, crashing into the other at the spark of a bullet striking the asphalt where he’d stood a moment before.

“Do something to them, Shego, or I will,” Dr. Drakken snarled over to her, only lowering his revolver slightly. She recognized it. So it wasn’t just for show.

“I thought you were above using those,” Shego snapped, stepping back from him. She could understand now why the henchmen avoided stepping out of line.

Dr. Drakken waved the gun in a dangerously flippant manner. “Well sorry if it’s tactless!” he drawled bitterly. “It’s effective, and this isn’t the time to argue about villain tradition. Show these men you are not to be reckoned with, Shego. That’s an order.”

“What do you expect?” shouted the moron who was lucky to still have toes at the moment. “You hired a hero!”

Nasty names she could handle. Nastier idiots mistaking her for an easy target she could handle.

But like a magic word, it was that accusation that set her off, and she didn’t need any more encouragement than that. If the vile thug wanted a fight, he could have it. She’d show them just how much of a hero she was.

Letting a furious scream rip, Shego lunged into action to make an example of the offender before Drakken could shoot the fired henchman himself. Hand blazing hot – too, too hot – she let the swipe come down before the goon could dodge, connecting with the man’s torso with enough power to shred through his overalls and carve into the unthinkable beneath. A hot knuckle sandwich and the heel of her boot weren’t the taste of her they’d wanted, but it was what they got as they tried and failed to fight her off. One tried to flee, but he didn’t get far – as one plasma shot to the back and he was down for the count. He was the luckier of the two.

This time there was no intervention in the brawl, not that it lasted long enough for anyone to try.

Her brothers were thousands of miles away, but in her head, she could hear them screaming at her to stop over the roar of blood and her own scream in her ears.

Once the men were down, her fury died as quickly as it had been kindled. In no time at all, she’d overdone it, and she didn’t stop to wonder how many teeth she’d knocked out as she leapt back from the whimpering bloody pulp she’d been laying into.

Shego left the battered men sprawled on the ground as she abandoned the brutal scene without a glance back. She examined her knuckles as she went. The new gloves were sullied and in need of a good wash, but otherwise they had held up well, and the sharpened tips served a function after all, though she didn’t want to think too hard about it or that Hugo had been right that they weren’t too conducive to hero work.

Dr. Drakken barked an order for the offenders to be taken care of, and then he wasn’t far behind her, although he kept his distance.