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youbloodymadgenius · 4 years ago

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Farewell (Ivar x petite!reader)

A/N: This is my contribution to @a-mess-of-fandoms‘s 1K Writing Challenge. Congrats again, love, this is well deserved 🌻

@inforapound, you know you’re the best, don’t you? 💋

A box of tissues could be useful, it’s kind of sad (sorry about that).

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

The gif belongs to @honestsycrets 💖

Summary: Ivar has some important things to tell you.

Warnings: small fluff; Ivar’s insecurities; loss of a loved one.

Words: 1812

Ivar hobbles, taking two steps forward before coming to a stop, his crutch a much needed support, his knuckles white on its hand grip. A few steps behind, Hvitserk watches him closely, afraid his brother might fall. Getting a little closer, he puts a hand on Ivar's shoulder. "Do you want me to stay?"

Hardly waving his free hand, Ivar shakes his head, curtly dismissing his brother. "Leave us alone."

Nodding, Hvitserk pats his brother's shoulder one last time and walks away wordlessly.

Once he's sure he's alone, Ivar looks up at the sky. Taking in a shuddering breath, he closes his eyes, pursing his lips before eventually looking down. His gaze falls to your face and he gives you a faint smile.

"My love…" His shaky voice is barely a whisper, his breath hitches and he tilts his head to the side, chewing on his dry lips. Running his fingers through his greying hair, he scratches the back of his neck, exhaling wearily.

Blinking back tears, he clenches his teeth. "I know I promised I wouldn't cry but you can't even imagine how hard it is…" Tightening his grasp on his crutch, he brings his right hand to his scrunched face, rubbing his eyes and snorting loudly.

"I don't even know where to start, you know?" He shrugs, a sullen look on his face. "I love you so, so much… More than I ever thought possible…" The last words come out strangled as Ivar swallows the thick lump in his throat. Blinking several times, he breathes in deeply through his nose.

"I think I'll start with how I was before. Before you, I mean. I was so young at that time, still almost a boy. There was nothing good inside of me. There was hatred, bitterness and jealousy. I was mean, cruel, to everyone. I was selfish, vain and self-centred, and I was so fucking angry all the time… And then you showed up… and everything changed…" A slight smile returns to his lips and he lets out a chukle.

"You remember, right? It was snowing and you had came to bring Mother a dress that she ordered from your’s. You didn't usually do that, but your mother was busy and asked you to do it. You didn't want to leave your father, whom you helped in the smithy, yet had no choice but to agree. It doesn't take much to make a difference, if you think about it. May the gods bless your mother!" Shaking his head, Ivar closes his eyes.

"As for me, I was stuck in the Great Hall because of my legs. They were hurting, my mother was in her room and my brothers nowhere to be seen. They were probably in a random barn, busy fucking Margrethe. I was bored, and pissed off, and so fucking in pain. And you came in. You were so small and petite, I thought you were a young boy, not more than ten years old. Your cloak was way too long for you, your dark pants filthy. I wanted to make fun of you, just to make myself feel better. I know that was mean. But as you know I wasn't nice, ever. However, I didn't get the chance, because you spoke. 'Prince Ivar', you told me reverently before bowing before me. I wish that I could tell you your voice enthralled me but if I'm being honest, it was quite the opposite. It was a high-pitched, irritating voice and I don't know why, but finding out you were a girl pissed me off even more.You were an easy prey and I was ready to pick on you. And then magic happened. You pushed your hood off, a warm smile on your lips. You were so beautiful. Your delicate features, the way you barely tilted your head, and your eyes… Gods, your eyes, my love. At the exact moment when you locked them with mine, I was bewitched, thoroughly and happily helpless. It's like in that moment the whole universe existed just to bring us together. Or to bring you to me, but whatever… You were here, and to my delight, you never left."

Wrapped up in his memories with a smile lingering on his lips, Ivar lets his mind wander.

***

"Aren't you going to kiss me, Ivar?"

Lost for words, a flabbergasted Ivar just stares at you, swallowing. Slowly wrapping your hand aroud his calloused one, you tilt forward and whisper in his ear. "Because you know, I'd like that very much."

"Aren't… Doesn't…" Finding his voice, Ivar, at first, splutters. Pulling himself together, he bites his lower lip before taking a ragged breath. "Doesn't that bother you?"

Raising a single brow, you look at him confused, an unspoken question in your eyes. When he gestures towards his legs, anger all over his face, his nose scrunched in disgust, you blink a few times, asking genuinely, "You mean, your legs?"

"Isn't that obvious?" You're not used to such a harsh tone from him, but you remain composed, aware that this is a very sensitive topic, at least for him.

"Doesn't it bother you that I'm so tiny?" You give him a wry smile, straightening up as much as you can, which is not much. Standing in front of Ivar, who's sitting on his bed, you're not taller than he is.

Sighing heavily, Ivar rubs his face with both hands before shooting you a sheepish look. "Y/N, it's not the same…" Lowering his head, he clenches his fists.

He's right, it's not. He's self-conscious about his legs, ashamed even, while you're the first to laugh about your short stature. One of your hands grazes his thigh and you place a finger beneath his chin, lifting his face to look at you. "It should be, though."

Furrowing his brows, Ivar stiffens once more. "And why is that? How can you compare those hideous, useless legs to–"

Shushing him, you give him a stern look, daring him to continue. When he keeps quiet, you take a step forward, straddling him carefully.

"Ivar, your legs…" Your voice is soft as you place a soothing hand on his chest, "… they are just the way you are. They are not what you are. Don't let them define you…"

***

The next moment, you were kissing him. Eyes still shut, Ivar shivers. If he concentrates hard enough, he can still feel your sweet lips on his.

***

"My husband!" Breaking the kiss, you giggle, beaming, a little tipsy and flooded with happiness.

Ivar chuckles, running his fingers through his dishevelled hair. Hovering over you, he peppers light kisses all over your face, supporting his weight on one arm. "My wife. You're my wife. I can hardly believe it." There's something so earnest in his eyes and so many emotions across his face… Your heart flutters as you kiss him lovingly.

"That I am. And you know, I'd suggest you get used to it, because I'm not going anywhere." Reaching out, you gently run your fingers across his broad chest and his bare sweaty skin.

"I won't let you go anywhere anyway. Not after what just happened. Was it magic?" He shivers, his big blue eyes scrutinizing you.

"Of course not." Giving him a quick peck on the tip of his nose, you cup his face with your hands, shaking your head. "We don't need magic, Ivar."

Slightly flustered, Ivar stutters. "I… I don't understand… How… I thought…" His averted gaze gives away how embarrassed he feels and he clenches his teeth. "You know… I… I couldn't have sex with Margrethe…"

There's a dull ache in your chest as you listen to his words – you wish so badly you could have saved him from that humiliation – but you chase it quickly away.

"You and I, my husband, we didn't have sex. We made love, which makes all the difference." Your fingers trail down his spine and then you squeeze playfully his butt cheeks. He bursts out laughing, wiggling slightly, but gets serious as soon as you stop.

"Do you think we'll have children?" His eyelids fluttering closed for a moment, Ivar lets out a huff of frustration. "I mean… You know… Do you think I'll be able to… despite my… condition?"

Drawing him against you, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. "I have no doubt. No doubt at all."

***

Opening his eyes, Ivar can feel his heart pounding in his chest. "You were right, of course you were right…" What a blessing.

***

"She's just like you, you know?" Beaming with pride, Ivar shifts in the bed, scooting closer to you. You're still amazed at how comfortable he is around you now.

Making sure you don't disturb the sleeping, sated baby in your arms, you lean slightly forward, your free hand brushing Ivar's naked thighs. You will gladly work on their deepest knots later, but right now, looking at your marvelous daughter, wrapped in your husband's embrace, is your single aim.

"She has your eyes, though." Feeling like your heart is blossoming, you grab Ivar's hand, bringing it to your–

***

"Ivar, it's time." Hvitserk's voice pulls Ivar out of his thoughts. Without looking up, he nods. "I know. Just give me a moment. I'll be quick."

As soon as Hvitserk retreats, Ivar looks at your peaceful face, his stomach clenching and rolling inside him. "My love, you gave me everything. You made me whole. You made me feel wanted, loved. You made me feel normal. You made me a man. For all of that, I'll be forever grateful." His breathing starts to shake and panic floods his body. "I… I don't want you to go… I… I don't know how I'm supposed to do that… I'm not sure I can… live without you…" His words catch in his throat, he swallows, wincing. "I'll try. I promise, I'll try. And one day, hopefully sooner rather than later, I'll join you. I'll find you and we'll be together again. I love you, Y/N. With all my heart, with all my soul."

A hand slips into his and Ivar looks around, a weary smile crossing his face as he recognizes his daughter. "Father." Intertwining their fingers, Ivar rubs her knuckles with his thumb. Her huge, blue, swollen eyes pricking with tears, she presses her head against his chest. Wrapping protectively his arm around her, he cradles his beautiful daughter, resting his head on hers. "Min skat." He wishes he could tell her it's going to be okay, but he can't. He can't.

Nodding to the archers, Ivar squeezes his daughter's hand tight as a withering sigh escapes his lips. The tightness in his chest is almost unbearable, he can't think or breathe. And when the first arrow reaches the boat, setting it on fire, a single tear runs down his cheek.

"Farewell, my love."

🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets @lisinfleur @waiting4inspiration @saldelys @gearhead66 @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @a-mess-of-fandoms @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @ivarthebloodyking @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog

#ivar #ivar x reader #ivar x petite!reader #ivar fanfic #ivar imagine #ivar fanfiction #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar vikings #vikings #vikings imagine #vikings ivar

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cyhyr · 3 years ago

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Whumpmas In July: Closure

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: E

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka

WC: ~3950

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Notes: Wakes & Funerals, Angst, fluff, smut, blow jobs, hand jobs, moving in together

A/N: BUT LIKE THIS IS JUST P0RN WITH *~*FEELINGS*~*

Conclusion, Starting from "Sleep"

Read After “Hope”

For @whumpmasinjuly prompt list

Read on The Archive

Kakashi sits on the edge of the bed and watches Iruka dress. Black on black on black formalwear; he’s dressed similarly. Iruka is fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt, watching himself in the mirror that hangs on the closet door. His hair is still loose, slightly damp at the ends from his shower and curling at his shoulders. It’ll straighten as it dries, Kakashi knows.

“Love.”

Iruka drops his hands. He’s been fumbling the same button for a few seconds.

Kakashi stands and crosses the room. He reaches around Iruka, drawing his back to his chest, and finishes the line of the shirt. With gentle coaxing, he turns Iruka around and then pulls him back into a tight hug.

“We don’t have to do this. You don’t have to do this.”

Iruka rests his forehead on Kakashi’s shoulder, his hands light on his waist. “No one else will,” he says quietly.

“That doesn’t mean it’s your responsibility.”

“What am I supposed to do? Just let his spirit float aimlessly?”

Kakashi doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know how. He just holds Iruka tighter.

“I need this,” Iruka murmurs. “I need to do this.”

“Alright,” Kakashi kisses his hairline. “Alright.”

He stays at the edge of the cemetery, watching Iruka and the priest speak. He’s too far away to hear. He doesn’t care.

The fuck died a traitor to the village, a rapist and an abuser to the end.

All around this cemetery are the ancestors of civilian families who have lived in Konoha and the Land of Fire for decades, centuries. This… he doesn’t deserve to share the same space as them.

But.

Iruka fought for it. He petitioned Tsunade, and spoke to the priests, and arranged for as many of the funeral rites as he could reasonably be allowed. Mizuki’s name won’t go on the Stone, nor was he allowed to be enshrined in the cemetery with other fallen shinobi. And Iruka was… he accepted the terms.

So this morning they picked up Mizuki’s ashes and bones.

And now they’re here, with incense and candles and one lone white chrysanthemum in Iruka’s fingers. When they’d gotten here, the priest had asked if they wanted to wait for anyone else, but Iruka had sadly murmured to just get it over with. No one else was coming. Iruka had sent out notices to their classmates, old coworkers, the woman that Mizuki had after Iruka; no one had responded.

Kakashi had held Iruka through the disappointment last night. Iruka had hoped that the woman, Tsubaki, would at least show. But yesterday was just like today; nothing and no one else.

So he watches. The incense is lit and prayers are said, the bones and ashes are laid before the gravestone, covered with the wooden marker and one of the few photographs Iruka still has of Mizuki, one taken back when they both had finally completed their first year of teaching.

“This one,” he had said, picking it out of the album. He had put his fingertip lovingly over Mizuki’s face and held back tears, continuing, “We. We were happy, then… I think. Maybe it wasn’t real, but it felt—right.”

Finally the priest finishes the prayers and rites, and the ashes and bones are buried, the marker placed. The priest seems to offer Iruka their condolences one last time, and then leaves. Kakashi holds up a hand to stop them as they approach, and takes out a heavy envelope from his inner jacket pocket. With a slight bow he offers the envelope to the priest, and they accept it silently.

Iruka had told him he could cover the expenses for the service.

Kakashi needs to do this for him, though. It’s all he can do now, really.

Because he’s trying. He’s trying to be objective at least. But this dick abused his lover for years, conditioned him into acting certain ways under stress; and now Iruka takes a small cocktail of medication everyday to keep himself stable. And he can’t forget that, let alone forgive. He won’t.

He’s glad Mizuki’s dead. And also, he’s of the opinion that Mizuki doesn’t deserve the same rites that the dead typically receive. He doesn’t deserve to be treated with the same dignity that everyone else is—Minato-sensei, Obito, Rin.

(Not his father. He. He never did this for Sakumo. He was too young, in too much pain, and the village was all too pleased to see Sakumo gone. He regrets that now, but he can’t… well. The bones and ashes are still in the family shrine. Maybe…)

So instead he pays for the service, and for the cremation, and for the burial, and includes a significant donation to inspire the priests to come by and pray over Mizuki’s grave for the next year or so. Because that’s what Iruka would want. He would want someone to help this poor fuck, even if it couldn’t be himself.

Kakashi wonders if Mizuki knew how lucky he was, to have the devotion of the one person in the entire village—likely the entire world—who knows only how to see the good in people. He wonders if Mizuki knows now how lucky he is, that even though Iruka killed him, even though Mizuki raped him and beat him and brutalized him… Iruka is here, when no one else would step up, praying over his ashes for his soul to find peace.

Because—and it hurts to admit it—Iruka loved him.

Iruka smiles and the sun comes out; Iruka leans on Kakashi and the south winds warm him from the inside out; Iruka kisses him and it’s a revelation. And it’s his capacity to love, and especially to love broken people, that’s given Kakashi the chance to have this. Not his humanity—though that is such a bonus—but this unending fount of love Iruka seems to be made of; that’s his strength.

It’s also his most dire weakness. And Mizuki took advantage of that. He took all the love Iruka gave him and twisted it into something dark and bitter. But instead of running or fighting like any other shinobi should have, Iruka’s response was simply to love Mizuki harder. Maybe they drove each other to the heights of insanity they eventually reached.

Kakashi will never know. And after today he won’t care.

He enters the cemetery to go and stand silently beside Iruka, still praying. Eventually, Iruka picks up his head and leans against Kakashi’s thigh.

“It wasn’t all bad, y’know,” Iruka mutters.

Kakashi doesn’t respond, only carefully places his hand on Iruka’s hair and petting gently.

“After the Kyūbi attack, we roomed together until we graduated from the Academy,” Iruka says. “Sometimes the heat would go out and he would come and huddle with me with all the extra blankets we had.”

He was probably just cold too.

“He stayed up all night with me to practice the clone jutsu before our final test, so we could graduate together.”

He was using your natural ability to teach to learn a last-minute technique.

“He taught Naruto how to roll omelets. That was. That was a nice morning.”

He… hmm.

“He wasn’t always a monster,” Iruka sniffles. “I… He was there, Kakashi.”

“I know, Love.”

“I never wanted this.”

“I know.”

“I thought… For so long, I thought we would be together forever. He was everything. And it was… it was okay. I didn’t know it could be any different.” Iruka looks up at him, tears stuck in his eyes. “He had it easy, didn’t he? I forgave everything he did to me.”

“But he took you for granted.”

“What he did was underestimate my protectiveness,” Iruka sighs. “Both times. It ended our relationship, and then it ended his life.”

They stay in the cemetery for a long time. Kakashi listens to Iruka tell him stories about Mizuki the boyfriend and tries to meld that with his own memories of Mizuki the abuser. When they leave, Iruka drops the chrysanthemum on top of the marker with a finality that screams where the rest of the cemetery is silent.

They go home later, and Iruka stops on the sidewalk looking at his house while Kakashi pushes the fence open and starts down the path to the front door. His black jacket is slung over his shoulder, and the sunset warms his skin and casts a reddish-orange glow onto his pale skin. He stops and turns, one foot propped on the second step up to the porch, and smiles back at Iruka.

That Iruka can tell he’s smiling with three-quarters of his face covered and three meters of space between them… Iruka realizes he’s so far gone on this man. He has been for months.

But Kakashi looks so perfect, waiting for him outside the house.

“Coming, Love?”

Iruka flushes, scratches at his scar, and walks up the path. When he’s close enough to Kakashi, he murmurs, “Hopefully later,” and passes on to the door to unlock it and release the wards. He leads the way inside and looks back over his shoulder to see Kakashi looking at his ass hungrily, still standing in the same spot and position he’d been when Iruka had passed him.

He grins. “Coming, Love?”

Kakashi looks up at him and whines, “Don’t tease.”

Iruka laughs. He turns and goes inside, leaving the door open for Kakashi to follow him. He tosses his keys onto the table in the genkan and begins toeing off his shoes.

Kakashi comes and stands behind him, putting his nose right in Iruka’s hair behind his ear. “Love you,” he mutters.

“Love you too,” Iruka responds. He twists and kisses Kakashi on the cheek, still masked.

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Not hungry,” Iruka says. He finishes getting his shoes off and steps out of the genkan. He holds out his hands for Kakashi to take, and grins when he has Kakashi close again, now in the living room. “Though, if you’re on the menu…”

Kakashi takes down his mask, groaning deep in his chest. “I thought you said no Icha Icha lines.” He slips his arms around Iruka’s neck while Iruka’s hands go to Kakashi’s hips.

Iruka leans in slowly. “Are you really complaining?”

“No. No, gods, no. Please kiss me.”

Iruka deliberately kisses Kakashi on the corner of his mouth. And when Kakashi tries to turn into the kiss, he trails kisses away from Kakashi’s lips, across his jaw and down his neck.

“Iruka—!” Kakashi whines.

He walks them back to the couch, licking at Kakashi’s neck the whole while. He sits down and Kakashi falls after him, straddling his lap and cupping his face.

“It’s okay? Can I—?”

“Kakashi, please keep kissing m—”

He does. He dives in and coaxes Iruka’s lips apart so their tongues can glide together. All the while his hips are slowly rocking against Iruka’s; he grabs Kakashi low on his hips and urges him to grind faster.

“You and your—oh, gods—fucking suit,” Kakashi pants into his mouth. “Gorgeous. Godsdamned gorgeous in this.”

Iruka tips his head back and lets Kakashi kiss and lick down his neck. Fingers grapple at his tie and collar, fumble with his shirt. Iruka’s own hands squeeze Kakashi’s ass, full and warm in his palms.

“Want you,” Kakashi murmurs against his throat. “Want. I want to see you come. Can I do that for you tonight? Please, please let me make you come.”

Iruka pushes Kakashi’s head up with two fingers under his chin and kisses him. Kakashi’s hands stop their pursuit of stripping him out of his shirt and instead cup Iruka’s face, still muttering please, please, please, all the while rocking and grinding in Iruka’s lap and—

And—

Oh, how’s he supposed to say no to that?

“Okay,” Iruka kisses him. “Um. Okay. Just. I don’t…”

And then Kakashi says, "I want you to fuck me."

And something in Iruka stops.

“Want to—hmm—feel you move in me,” Kakashi rambles. He continues unbuttoning Iruka’s shirt, exposing more and more bronze skin. Iruka's chest is broad and muscled and perfect, just like the rest of him, and Kakashi slips off of his lap to settle on his knees between Iruka’s thighs; he leans in and laps at Iruka’s clavicle, down his sternum, drifts aside to catch a nipple in his teeth. Iruka’s soft hum and fingers in his hair tell him he’s doing good so he flicks his tongue against the bud between his teeth. His own eye rolls back to hear Iruka’s cry of pleasure.

Down further, he keeps undoing buttons and parting fabric. He lays kisses all over Iruka’s belly, cups his erection through his pants, and glances up at Iruka before he goes for his belt and trousers.

“Please.”

“What—um—what are you…?” Iruka can’t seem to get the words out, but his chest is heaving with his breath and the flush on his cheeks is staining his flesh all the way down his neck. He’s-he’s beautiful.

“I. I really want to suck you off,” Kakashi says. “And then, if you’re up for round two, I want you inside me.”

Iruka takes his cheek in hand and smiles and says, “We can. We can definitely try that.”

“I love you.”

Iruka kisses him again, soft and sweet. “Love you too. But let’s go to bed, yeah?”

Kakashi can agree with that. He stands up and pulls Iruka along by the hands. He’s giddy and excited—almost as much as when Iruka lets him eat him out, but this excitement has the twinge of newness to it. He’s wanted to get Iruka’s cock in his mouth since the first time they had gone to bed together, and now, finally, he’s getting it.

He’s a bit lightheaded by the prospect, if he’s honest.

Once they’re in the bedroom, Iruka begins unbuttoning Kakashi’s shirt, while Kakashi plays with Iruka’s buckle. Iruka moves to the cuff buttons at each wrist, and then returns to Kakashi’s chest to part the fabric and slide his palms over his undershirt and up to his shoulders. He pushes the shirt off and pulls it down his arms, dragging his palms and fingertips along his pale skin and raised scars. The shirt is tossed and Iruka returns to the undershirt, lifting slowly from the bottom and smirking at how Kakashi’s abs jump at his touch.

The undershirt and mask join the shirt on the floor, and Iruka goes for Kakashi’s belt, but is halted by his own belt and trousers being undone. Kakashi let Iruka have his bit of fun; but he’s really got to get that cock in his mouth.

“I love you,” he murmurs again. He leans in and kisses Iruka’s cheek, down to his jaw and back to his lips; traces his ribs with his fingers and groans at the dips of muscle definition on his abdomen. “You’re perfect, and I love you.”

Iruka’s panting lightly, his eyes closed and his lips shiny with spit—his or Kakashi’s, who’s keeping track anymore? Kakashi swallows the whimpering moan he pulls from Iruka’s throat as he finishes stripping both of them, their clothing a pile of fabric on the floor.

He urges Iruka to lay down on the bed, takes hold of his underwear once he’s prone, and asks again, “Is this alright?”

Iruka’s response is to raise his hips and tip his head to the side. He has a wet, red mark on his neck that may bruise by morning if Kakashi’s not careful.

He slips the last bit of fabric off and throws it aside. Iruka’s cock, hard and reddened, bobs onto his belly and smears precome across his skin. He blushes furiously, and it’s perfect.

Kakashi crawls onto the bed, spreading Iruka’s legs and settling himself between thick muscular thighs. First he kisses the soft, darker skin of his inner thighs, then trails his nose up through the thatch of hair around the base of his cock. He darts out his tongue to taste and relishes the whimper he receives. One hand joins his mouth in worship, gently cradling the thick cock while his tongue licks all around the base.

“K’shi. Love.”

The most subtle of shifts has him positioned above the head of Iruka’s cock. He licks up a bead of precome at the tip, closing his eyes to savor it. Continuing to cradle this precious member in one hand, he begins to press open-mouth kisses all along the shaft. His thumb caresses the tip and spreads the precome that keeps leaking.

Then Kakashi licks a wide stripe up the underside, base to tip, and sucks the head into his mouth—

And Iruka sobs.

Kakashi lifts his head, letting Iruka slip from his mouth but still holding him in one hand, and checks in—”Iruka?”

“Don’t stop,” Iruka whimpers. “Please. Please don’t stop.”

Relieved, Kakashi kisses his navel, his hips; strokes his cock with a slow, steady palm; and only when he hears Iruka cry out again—

“Gods among us, Kakashi, please!”

—does he slip his lips back over his head and take Iruka as far into his mouth as he can. He’s not long, but he’s thick and Kakashi’s jaw aches to hold him on his tongue; a slow breath out has Kakashi sliding the very tip of Iruka’s cock down his throat and relishing the fresh, louder cry he receives for the motion. He can hold Iruka in his throat for twenty-four seconds before needing to pull back. He’s not like Iruka, with no gag reflex and a penchant for swallowing long cocks and holding them in his throat. He bobs his head, drooling over the thick shaft and moaning at the taste of more precome in the back of his mouth.

Kakashi had been braced on his elbow, holding Iruka’s hip with a careful grip. But now he shifts, settles his weight more on his knees, places his forearms on Iruka’s spread thighs. He continues holding Iruka’s cock with one hand, stroking where his mouth can’t reach and keeping him from jerking up into Kakashi’s throat. With his newly freed hand, though, he cups Iruka’s balls and presses his thumb just barely against Iruka’s hole.

“Love you, love you, oh-oh-ahh, so g-good, K’shi, fuck.”

That’s it. That’s it, Love.

He lets Iruka thrust into his mouth just the barest amount, knowing unfortunately that he’ll choke if he lets Iruka take what he wants but also. Also, gods, Iruka is panting and moaning and it’s driving Kakashi higher and higher.

“Want. Oh. Kakashi, Love, wanna come with you,” Iruka taps at his shoulder, “Please, please come up here and kiss me.”

He lets Iruka go, swallows the last bitter traces of precome on his tongue, and crawls up Iruka’s body. Iruka takes him by the face and pulls him the rest of the way to his mouth, kissing and nipping at his lips and groaning all the while.

“Why,” Iruka mutters into his mouth,”are you still wearing your underwear?”

“Good question.” Kakashi licks into his mouth and continues kissing him, fingers his nipples, rocks their hips together—

“Off. Get them off,” Iruka whines.

“But then I’d have to stop touching you.”

“You can take three seconds to strip.”

Kakashi sits back and shoves his underwear down his thighs. The cool air on his dick is a shock, but not as much as watching Iruka reach for his own cock and begin to touch himself.

Kakashi stops to watch.

His fingertips glide along the underside, up and down and up and—they stop and Iruka takes himself in a light grip, swirling his thumb against the tip while his other hand drifts to his chest to pinch and tweak at his own nipple.

Iruka licks his lips, moans brokenly, and says, “Are you going to make me do this myself, or are we doing this together?”

He fumbles the rest of the way out of his underwear, saying, “I. Well.” He settles back, kneeling between Iruka’s thighs and watching his hand move and his chest heave. “Gods, Iruka, I could come from this.”

“Watching me?”

“You have no idea. How godsdamn sexy you are right now.”

Iruka’s blush is sweet and gorgeous.

“Want us,” he pants. “Want you.”

Kakashi leans back down and kisses him, deep and lovingly, pressing their bodies together, hips to navel to chest. Iruka’s arms encircle his neck and keep him close, keep them kissing. He reaches between them for Iruka’s cock and takes him in hand again, pumping his hand carefully.

Iruka shakes his head. “Together, Kakashi, please.”

He shivers. “I won’t last,” he murmurs.

“Don’t care. Wanna feel you.”

So Kakashi leans up on his elbow, adjusts his hips and pushes his own cock alongside Iruka’s into the circle of his hand and they both sigh and moan and Iruka begs him to move—

“K’shi, please, please, I’m so close, just—little more, please!”

Kakashi ruts, smoothing precome along their cocks with his palm and easing the friction. Iruka’s leaking steadily but Kakashi’s pulsing, damp squirts from his tip with each thrust. His eyes are shut tight and his lips are parted and kiss-bruised.

“You. You’re so beautiful,” Kakashi whispers.

And Iruka comes. Splashes of come slip over his hand, pooling on his stomach and chest. Kakashi stills his hand to feel the pulse of Iruka’s cock against his own and it’s glorious. His jaw drops in an almost silent cry, interrupted only by soft Ah-ah-ahh as he pants. And when he starts to come down, Iruka moans and gasps, “So good K’shi,” and then.

And then he opens his eyes, just the barest amount, and says, “You too. Come for me, Love.”

Like he could resist. Kakashi’s hand doesn’t even move again, still gently holding them both; he comes on command, adding to the mess on Iruka’s belly as his hips rut against Iruka’s.

His mouth is dry and his throat aches when he comes back to himself. Iruka is holding him against his chest, the mess mostly wiped away by a corner of the blanket. Kakashi nuzzles into Iruka’s neck, breathes him in, and relishes the soft touches to his back and arms.

“Move in with me.”

Kakashi opens his eye and picks up his head. Iruka is staring at the ceiling, like he’s not sure how Kakashi's going to respond.

As if there’s any other response he could give.

“Alright.”

“I just thought, y’know, you’re here all the time anyway, and I miss you when—” Iruka looks down at Kakashi and furrows his brow, saying, “Wait. Alright?”

Kakashi smiles. “Alright.”

“You. You’ll live here. With me.”

“I would love to.”

Iruka frowns, turning his gaze away from him and instead to the wall. “I wasn’t prepared for this.”

“I’m realizing that,” Kakashi chuckles.

“I expected to have to convince you.”

“Convince me? To live with the love of my life? To live with the man who makes me bad omelettes but perfect pancakes? To live with you, who makes sure my weapons are sharp and designs seals and tags specifically for my use?”

“Kakashi…”

“I’d get to live with the same man who opened up his heart and his home to my sensei’s son, who the rest of the village had turned their back on, and showed him what love is with no desire for reciprocation or payment. You just. Did.”

“Gods, love, stop.”

Kakashi does. Because that word is important and he won’t tarnish it by disrespecting it. But he could go on. And on. And on.

But Iruka smiles and kisses him again and says, “Okay. We’ll get you moved in tomorrow?”

Because it’s getting late.

And he’s home.

#whumpmasinjuly #final prompt #umino iruka #hatake kakashi #kakairu #my writing

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laurawritesandgames · 4 years ago

Text

For Beetlelands Week 2020

Title: Write Like the Wind

Fandom: Beetlejuice (Musical)

Rating: T

Ships: Beetlejuice/Adam/Barbara

Prompt: One Bed

Summary: Adam wants to do something for nerd-kind now that he has ghostly powers. Beetlejuice and Barbara help out. Spoilers for The Winds of Winter.

When Beetlejuice returned from the Netherworld, he came back powerful. Barbara wasn’t exactly sure how—the story changed with each telling.

But he returned with enough power to teleport her and Adam pretty much anywhere he could visualize. Thanks to Google Street View, he could visualize quite a few things.

Being able to teleport was very helpful when Adam had a specific request.

The ghosts and demon appeared inside a very fancy home, with sunlight streaming in the windows. Beetlejuice was hovering between Barbara and Adam, holding their hands. Barbara suspected this wasn’t strictly part of his teleportation ability, but it was a nice excuse to hold hands.

The demon shimmered in and out briefly, wincing.

“Everything okay?” Barbara asked.

“Teleporting all the way to New Mexico is a lot. We’re definitely gonna need to stop by a bolt-hole on the way back.” According to Beetlejuice, undead travellers could recharge in places with a lot of “death energy”—graveyards, usually, or famous battlefields.

The clicking of a keyboard drew the three of them to an office where a large, grey-haired man sat in front of his computer.

Adam sucked in a breath. “There he is,” he whispered.

Beetlejuice rolled his eyes. “Sexy, you’re dead. He can’t hear you.” Sure enough, the writer hadn’t turned around at the sound of Beetlejuice’s voice.

“Oh.” Adam looked a bit disappointed. “I guess I just assumed that he’d be attuned to the supernatural. He’s a master of the sci-fi/fantasy genre! Anyway, let’s go see what he’s working on.” He crossed his fingers as the three of them huddled around the author’s computer screen.

Barbara felt a bit awkward reading over someone’s shoulder, and looked politely aside. She’d never gotten into sci-fi and fantasy the way Adam had; he’d know better than she would what they were looking at.

Her husband’s face fell. “Wild Cards?!” he spluttered. “Wild freaking Cards! I know he only edits the anthologies, but they’re a distraction!” He ran his hands through his hair. “Just write the books, George!”

“I can take over his computer and threaten to start deleting files until the books are done!” Beetlejuice crowed. “Make it seem like he’s got a computer virus!”

Adam’s gaze flicked between Beetlejuice and the author’s computer a few times.

Barbara cleared her throat.

“No, of course not,” Adam said quickly. “Thanks for saving me from myself, sweetie.” He kissed her cheek. He focused on the author, holding out his hand. “Sorry about this.”

The author stopped what he was doing. He saved then exited out of the document. Adam searched through the computer files for a moment then made the author open up a document titled The Winds of Winter.

The document opened after a few moments. ‘Want to pick up where you left off?’ Word asked helpfully, and the author clicked on it. There were a bunch of unfamiliar words and names on the page that showed up.

No sense in me reading this. Barbara decided to look around a famous author’s office. She’d expected him to have a bunch of memorabilia from the TV show, but the furnishings were really quite ordinary. Unsurprisingly, there were a lot of bookshelves filled with books.

There was silence from the author, whose fingers were poised over the keyboard.

“C’mon, Sexy, get writing.” Beetlejuice hovered in mid-air, bobbing slightly. He was also eyeing the author’s office, but he was probably wondering where to put spiders.

“Er, there’s no way I can give him partial control, can I? I can’t write the next book!”

“Not how it works, newb.”

Adam sighed. “Okay. Um, my thoughts definitely won’t be his, but maybe I can make a start. Barbara, you took that course in creative writing in college, right? Do you have any tips?” Adam was an amazing man with many good qualities, but pure creativity wasn’t one of them.

“I can try, but I wasn’t writing award-winning fantasy novels back in college.” Barbara dredged up some memories of the TV show. “Maybe you should make the White Walkers show up! You know, inject some tension.”

“It’s an Arianne Martel chapter.”

Barbara had no idea what that meant. “Um…have a dragon show up?”

“I appreciate the thought, but Arianne is going to treat with Young Griff, and the entire point is that he’s a supposed Targaryen that doesn’t have dragons.”

Beetlejuice spoke up. “Have some brothers and sisters bone. Shove a little smut in there.”

“Not only does that not work in this chapter, I’m also not comfortable with that.”

“Or skip to a Dany chapter,” Barbara suggested. “I just want good things for her. How’s she doing, anyway?”

“Not well.” Adam made the author pull up a Dany chapter. He watched the blinking cursor for a few moments, frowning in thought.

Beetlejuice added, “You could write a bunch of dialogue in what’s basically a white room and see where it takes you. That’s an A-plus writing strategy, right there.”

Adam sighed, rubbing his forehead. After a few more moments of intense concentration, he looked away from the computer screen.

The author shook his head, blinking a few times.

“Maybe just having the document open will prompt him to write?” Adam asked hopefully.

The author closed out of The Winds of Winter and went back to a document called Wild Cards_edits.

Adam’s shoulders slumped.

Beetlejuice hovered closer. “Just casually mentioning that we can take out the phone, snap some pics of these new chapters, and threaten to leak them if he doesn’t write the books.”

“Photos of chapters over his shoulder?” Barbara said. “That’s pretty terrifying.”

The demon chuckled darkly.

“Ah. And that was exactly the point.” Beetlejuice might have changed a lot since his return from the Netherworld, but his love of fear and chaos that wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“No, Beetlejuice,” Adam said. “It wouldn’t work anyway. What kind of writing would you get if someone was bullied into it?”

“Bleh, you’re no fun. Where to next, Sexy? That Rothfuss guy?”

“Let’s just go home.”

“Have to make a quick stop first, but okay.” Beetlejuice grabbed their hands and teleported them away.

They landed in someplace pitch black. Beetlejuice lit a match of neon green fire, revealing a small underground crypt barely large enough for the three of them. Every surface was draped with dust and cobwebs. A half-open coffin showed patchy, stained velvet. If there was a door to this crypt, the match didn’t reveal it.

Beetlejuice tilted his head. “Ahhh, that’s better.” He frowned slightly, as if listening to something. Barbara couldn’t hear anything. “Yep, think it’s still sandworm free! Lemme just recharge for a while.”

“You’ve been here before?” she asked.

“Nah, but I saw drawings from some ghost hunters back in the Netherworld. Ghost hunters can go topside to bring ghosts back, and they need places to rest, too.”

“So, ghost hunters are ghosts who hunt other ghosts?”

“Yeah, and they’re the worst. The Bureau of the Dead won’t let anyone go topside unless they’re a boot-licker. But it was good to know a few of their tricks when I got banished up here.”

Barbara glanced at Adam, who normally would’ve loved Netherworld lore. It wasn’t every day that Beetlejuice opened up about a place that was, in his words, “total Meh-ville.” But Adam wasn’t even listening. The gloomy atmosphere of the crypt fit his gloomy expression perfectly.

“Hey,” Barbara said softly. When Adam turned her way, she squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out the way you wanted it to.”

“I guess art just has to happen at its own pace. You can’t force it. I just feel bad for all the other dead readers who’ll never get to read the end of the series. All they’ll have is the TV show’s ending.” He snorted in disgust.

“Maybe you planted a seed. Who knows? Inspiration is a funny thing.”

“And there’s always fanfic,” Beetlejuice added.

“It’s not the same,” Adam said with a sigh.

“Heh, speaking of fanfic….” Beetlejuice hopped into the coffin. “Oh noooo. There’s only one bed!”

Barbara and Adam stared at him. She had no idea what he was talking about.

Beetlejuice huffed. “Oh, come on. None of you ever read a romance fic? Hell, a romance novel?”

“No,” Adam said.

“Not really my thing,” Barbara added. She was a fan of biographies and autobiographies of famous people, personally. “And, also? Not a bed. It’s a coffin. And sleeping in a coffin is also not my thing.”

“Jesus, so picky.” Beetlejuice snapped his fingers, and the coffin became their bed at home. “Get over here.” He hesitated then said, “Please.” Barbara and Adam had had conversations with him about asking instead of demanding; happily, it looked like those conversations were sticking.

Beetlejuice had just done them a huge favour, and a little cuddling might cheer Adam up. Barbara went to join Beetlejuice, shooting a questioning glance at Adam. He followed them, though he was still brooding.

She and Beetlejuice let Adam slide between them as the three sorted themselves out. (Sometimes, Beetlejuice would throw in extra limbs or a few clones just for the added challenge.) After some scooching and wriggling, Barbara’s cheek rested on Adam’s shoulder as she stroked his chest gently and held his left hand. Beetlejuice had one arm over the two of them and was, for some reason, nibbling on Adam’s hair, which sometimes became kissing the top of his head. After a while, you got used to a certain amount of weirdness.

Gradually, Adam began to relax. First, the tension left his shoulders. Then, he cracked his neck and his jaw untightened. (He’d needed to wear a mouthguard when he slept when he was alive. He was always grinding his teeth.)

“Maybe…” he murmured. “Maybe I could write the ending to the books. It’ll be fanfic, but it’ll be something, at least. I can work on that project while the Deetzes are asleep. I’ve never written fic before, but I could try. It’s not like I need to eat or sleep. And I’ve been looking for a new project ever since I finished the model.” His model of the town had a place of pride in the attic, which the Maitlands had cleaned out and repurposed into an arts and crafts room. They still kept up with their hobbies, but they had fewer now that they were busy rehabilitating Beetlejuice and parenting Lydia.

“I’m sure it’ll be great, hon.” Barbara kissed his cheek. “I’ll help however I can.”

“And I can tell you all about what fic tropes you can put in!” Beetlejuice said. “Or what fic tropes we can do ourselves.” He must’ve been thinking about some sexual ones, for he chortled and squeezed Adam’s butt. “Gotta keep the rating PG-13 for Beetlelands Week, but…you know which ones.” He winked at no one in particular, it seemed. Sometimes, he pretended he had an audience; Barbara and Adam just ignored it.

Beetlejuice moved to nuzzling Adam’s throat. After a few moments, he began patting Barbara’s hair.

Barbara giggled. “Aren’t you supposed to be recharging?”

“It’s called multitasking, baby.” Idly, he commented, “Shit, fluff is hard to end. How do you even end something that by its nature has low stakes and minimal conflict?”

What was he talking about? Barbara shrugged.

Adam thoughtfully said, “Maybe with a kiss?”

“Hah!” Barbara couldn’t help but grin when Beetlejuice laughed like that. This wasn’t an evil cackle or a dark chuckle, but an open, cheerful sound that she’d been hearing more and more since they’d started dating. “Perfect! You’re so ready to be a fic writer, Sexy!”

Beetlejuice kissed Adam on the lips, and the cuddling in a false bed in an underground crypt continued.

Not for the first time, Barbara reflected, My afterlife is so weird.

But it did have its perks.

#beetlelandsweek2020 #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice #beetlelands #adam maitland #barbara maitland #adam x barbara x beetlejuice

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umbry-fic · 3 years ago

Text

The Revenge Plot

Summary: On a lazy afternoon, Lloyd hatches a scheme to prank Raine. Genis gets pulled in against his will. Colette is just happily along for the ride.

Will Raine figure it out? Will the three succeed?

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Colette Brunel, Lloyd Irving, Genis Sage, Raine Sage Relationships: Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving & Genis Sage, Genis Sage & Raine Sage Rating: G Word Count: 4712 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 01/04/2021

Notes: A fun little gen fic for April Fool's Day featuring the Iselia trio!

~~~

“We would have tricked Professor Raine and gotten our revenge at the same time!” Lloyd finished. His voice, the scratching of a singular pen nib against paper, the occasional flap of pages turning and the creaking of his chair were the only sounds filling the quiet classroom.

The three of them, Lloyd, Genis and Colette, were the only ones still left in the Iselia Schoolhouse. The sun was setting, casting the entire room in different shades of muted reds and oranges. The shadows cast by the trees outside the windows stretched across the desks, resembling gnarly, bent fingers that shifted. Lloyd and Colette were scrambling to finish the homework that was due tomorrow and had agreed to stay back in the classroom after school to finish it. Genis had no reason to stay. He’d finished the next two week’s worth of homework.

Genis had crossed his arms and claimed he wanted to do supplementary exercises. So he would be staying as well!

Much to Genis’ relief, the two of them hadn’t tried to refute this reason. If they had, Genis would have shot back with an excuse of pitying the two of them for not having the tenacity to even finish one page of exercises. That would have been enough to shut them up. Hopefully. That was the plan, at least.

Colette nodded eagerly, gaze fixed on Lloyd and chin nestled on her palm, having long given up on actually doing her math homework. The textbook on her table had been opened to the page of multiplication practices for the last ten minutes. Not a single word had been written on it, her pen instead laying uncapped next to it, having left a trail of ink down its side. The time had instead been spent raptly listening to Lloyd while experiencing a growing sense of awe, eyes widening as he went through his plan. It sounded smart! Who would have thought?

Genis, on the other hand, had his head buried in his textbook and was doing his best to ignore Lloyd’s continuous talking, pen scribbling down equation after equation. But he couldn’t tune it out completely, and it was starting to get very annoying.

Lloyd, who was sitting in his chair backwards so he was facing his friends, arms hugging the backrest and legs swinging in the air, grinned. “So? What do you think, Genis?”

With an annoyed huff, Genis loudly snapped his textbook closed and slammed it upright on the desk, glaring at Lloyd over it. “I’ve only been half-listening to your mindless yammering and even then I can tell your plan is ridiculous. You should be doing your homework, not being a distraction! Do you want to get detention tomorrow?”

Lloyd winced at the thought of spending a beautiful sunny afternoon trapped in here again, writing “I’m sorry” over and over on the blackboard until his fingers were completely smudged white with chalk and so raw he thought they might bleed. It would be great if he never had to go through that again for the rest of his life.

“I couldn’t focus. It’s not my fault all of the math questions are impossible.” Lloyd pouted, starting to rock the chair on its legs. Colette worried, with how far back Lloyd was tipping the chair, that he might just fall over. “So I came up with this instead.”

Genis groaned, resisting the urge to chuck the textbook at Lloyd’s head. He would leave the physical violence to his sister. “If you can come up with such a ridiculous prank, you have the time to finish your homework.”

“I was asking you what you thought of it! You still haven’t answered.”

“I think it’s quite good!” Colette spoke up. “But Lloyd, your -”

“Explain to me exactly how you’re going to clear this classroom of students on a school day?” Genis asked smugly, interrupting Colette’s attempt to warn Lloyd of his dangerous chair rocking behaviour. He could bet Lloyd hadn’t thought of that. This should be enough to stump Lloyd and get him to rethink pulling a prank on Raine. Why was he even trying to do that anyway? Was he asking for death?

“That’s where you come in, Genis,” Lloyd replied, stretching his arm out to point straight at Genis’ face. Genis gaped. What? Himself? How did he even play into this idiotic scheme?

“You get to go around town the night before telling everyone that school’s off the next day. You’re Professor Raine’s brother, so everyone will believe you!”

“I - H - how did you even come up with that?” Genis was at a loss for words. The worst thing was that Lloyd’s idea made sense. What had the world come to for such a miracle to occur?

Did Lloyd have a brain somewhere in that ridiculously thick skull of his?

“Dunno, just thought of it,” Lloyd said nonchalantly, further rendering Genis speechless. Just thought of it??? “So, you in?”

“No!” Genis protested. “Do whatever you want, but I’m not pranking my sister!” He wasn’t insane enough to agree to this. If they pulled this off, what would Raine do in retaliation? Make Lloyd carry four buckets of water instead of two? A week’s worth of detention? Make him sleep in the dark? Just the thought of it was enough to make him want to cower.

The smile on Lloyd’s face wasn’t dropping, however. It was unnerving. Did Lloyd still think he could be convinced? How?

“Then you leave me no choice.” Lloyd tipped the chair towards Genis, leaning closer over the desk. Genis scooted his chair back, attempting to put as much distance between the two of them as possible. “I invoke the sports meet. You remember, don’t you?”

Colette cringed at the increasingly loud creaking sounds coming from the chair, the harsh sound almost deafening to her. Did the other two not notice it? Were they too engrossed in their conversation? Was that a crack running down one of the chair legs?!!

“The sports… meet...” Genis trailed off as realisation hit him like a lightning strike.

Every year, at the insistence of the mayor, the school held a sports meet where the students were divided into two groups and pitted against each other in various activities. It was sweaty, loud, competitive, and Genis hated it with a passion. Every student needed to be assigned at least one activity, and no matter how many times he had pleaded with his sister, she had refused to budge on the matter. School regulations were school regulations, she had said, and what kind of school teacher would she be if she let him off easy just for being her brother?

After three years of embarrassing himself and letting the whole world know of his absolute lack of athletic abilities, he had grown tired of it. At last month’s edition of the annual sports meet, he had brokered a deal with Lloyd - take his spot at the 100-metre sprint, and Lloyd could have one favour, any favour.

Thank the Goddess Raine hadn’t noticed anything amiss. Either that, or she had chosen to stay silent.

“You’re using your favour for this?” Genis spluttered, starting to panic. “I thought you were going to ask me to do your homework for a week or something!”

To be honest, Genis had completely forgotten he’d ever made that promise. He had expected Lloyd to call in his favour within a day, but there had been complete silence from Lloyd’s end over this matter. For it to return now, of all times, to bite him in the back…

“A promise is a promise. Right, Genis?”

Genis remained silent. There was no way to refute that statement. He had, indeed, made that promise. And Raine had always told him, since young, to never renege on them.

Lloyd had, for once, well and truly cornered him. Had he planned this all along?

No, it couldn’t be. Genis refused to believe it. Lloyd wasn’t smart enough to play that long of a game. It was just a lucky coincidence.

Lloyd grinned, leaning back with his arms crossed behind his head, causing the chair’s front two legs to come off the floor. “So I guess that’s settled! It's a great opportunity to get Professor Raine to loosen up a little! We’ll deal with the details some other time. As for the tomatoes, Colette, can you borrow some from your grandmother’s garden?”

Colette nodded, frowning at what she was very certain was a crack on the chair’s leg. “I can ask Grandma; she’d probably give some to me without asking any questions. But Lloyd, you should stop rocking your chair.”

Lloyd blinked at Colette in confusion, cocking his head. “Huh? Why -”

A resounding “crack” echoed throughout the classroom as one of the chair’s legs split in half in an explosion of wood splinters, pitching the chair to the side and throwing Lloyd onto the floor.

“Lloyd!” Colette cried in worry, running over and kneeling next to the groaning boy on the floor. “Are you alright? Does it hurt? Are you bleeding? Do I…"

Genis paid no attention to any of this, sinking down in his seat and putting his head in his hands. He was embroiled in this ridiculous scheme now, definitely for the worst. He could only hope that Lloyd failed in his machinations or came to his senses.

Even if they successfully pulled this off, the only result awaiting them were the graves they would have dug for themselves.

He supposed he had his answer now.

The fact that Lloyd had ever considered trying to prank his sister proved, once and for all, that he was a mindless idiot.

~~~

One Week Later

Genis stuffed his feet into his shoes, staring out the window at the unnaturally dark sky. It was the middle of summer, and on any other day, the sun would have been happily smiling down at the world, even in the early evening.

Just his luck that the day before Lloyd’s… revenge plot (calling it that left a sour taste in his mouth), the sun would be hidden behind a barrage of storm clouds, thunder faintly rumbling as lightning lit up the sky.

He would hate getting caught in the rain while running around Iselia doing Lloyd’s bidding. It’d just be rubbing salt on an already open wound.

Genis sighed. Might as well bite the bullet and get it over and done with. Lloyd had at least promised him that he wouldn’t need to turn up tomorrow for the actual deed. Maybe Raine would never know he was part of this!

...

No. There was absolutely no way Raine wouldn’t figure it out. No matter what, he would be dead by the end of tomorrow.

Speaking of Raine, his sister should be preparing for tomorrow’s lesson right about now. She almost always stuck to her daily routine - eat breakfast (prepared by him), head to the schoolhouse, conduct her lessons, eat her packed lunch (also prepared by him), organise any necessary detention or supplementary sessions, come home, eat dinner (cooked by him, what else did you expect?), prepare tomorrow’s lessons… She carved out some time, especially on weekends, to read up on ruins and, of course, spend some time with him. They could talk about anything: more complicated magic incantations, the most recent book they had read, the insane things Lloyd got up to… Countless topics, skirting around the one thing they wouldn’t bring up unless they had to.

But they were both creatures of routine - perhaps that provided a much-needed sense of security to combat the ever-present fear that their deepest secret would be unearthed, here, in a place where they had finally found peace, much like it had before. History always repeated itself. That was how the saying went.

Maybe Raine did need to loosen up a little.

Well. He would get going. There should be no chance of being caught now and raising Raine’s suspicions -

A hand landed on his shoulder, causing his heart to jump out of his chest as a familiar voice was heard from behind him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Holding his breath and praying his absolute hardest to the Goddess, Genis turned around slowly, trying to maintain a straight face. Raine stared down at him, unimpressed, one eyebrow raised as she crossed her arms, awaiting his answer. How had she even gotten behind him without making any sound?

Lloyd had laughed at him when he’d said, once, that Raine was a silent predator. But you had to be there to believe it! She had struck terror into his heart ever since he was seven, when she’d caught him stealing from the cookie jar and grounded him for a whole week.

He’d been forced to eat Raine’s cooking for that entire period. He sometimes still had nightmares about the writhing tentacles he’d had to consume.

“I was going over to Lloyd’s to help him with math again. You know how he is with fractions.” He was going to have to congratulate himself later for keeping a stable voice. He had no idea how he was managing it.

“At this time of day?” Raine replied, frowning as she glanced out the window.

Steeling himself to come up with some plausible excuse, Genis opened his mouth -

“I’m worried it’ll rain while you’re out there. At least take a raincoat. I wouldn’t want you catching a cold.”

“Oh, right.” Genis accepted the raincoat his sister had grabbed off the clothes rack and stuffed into his hands, staring down at the grey plastic, a small smile forming on his face. “Thanks. I’ll… get going, then.”

“Take care. And don’t stay out too late, alright?” Raine opened the door, stepping back. “I will punish you if you turn up to school late tomorrow.”

“Can’t you just wake me up and take me with you?” Genis complained, stepping out of the house, still smiling.

“No. My answer is final. I will not accept any dissent over this issue.” Raine leaned against the doorframe, the corner of her mouth curving upwards slightly.

Genis waved goodbye to his sister, setting off down the footpaths of Iselia towards his closest schoolmate’s house. It’s not like he expected Raine to change her tune.

Stubborn, overly strict, prone to violence, but diligent, protective and caring. That was his sister.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

~~~

The Next Day

Raine figured out something was wrong the moment she stepped foot into the schoolyard.

Shutting the book on the Balacruf Mausoleum that her head had been buried in just moments before, she closed her eyes and tried to identify the source for the sense of wrongness that had arisen.

Come on. Concentrate…

Ah. That was it. The complete silence.

Teaching at a schoolhouse that catered to children ranging from the ages of 8 to 16 meant there was always some noise, from somewhere, reaching her ears. Excited chattering, the scraping of desk legs against the floor, the creaking of old wooden boards that supported the weight of children, chasing each other around. One got used to it until it became nothing more than background noise that she didn't actively register. Nonetheless, it was a collection of sounds that brought comfort.

All that sound, carrying the weight of life with it, was gone now, drained from the schoolhouse and leaving it dark and soulless. The children, playing skip rope, catching or hopscotching in the dirt of the schoolyard until she shooed them in for class were absent as well.

There was not a single hint of life. The air was still. Silence dominated.

Was there no one here at all? Hmm.

She had suspected something was off ever since last night. Genis seldom left the house so late, and for Lloyd to do his homework at that time of day? It was unbelievable. Nothing, no force in this mortal world, could make Lloyd Irving finish his homework. It infuriated her to no end, but… It was also slightly endearing; part of what defined one of her beloved students.

So this was what Genis had been up to last night. She’d contemplated asking for the truth or just forbidding him from leaving, but had seen no point in doing it. He was no longer the tiny, vulnerable bundle she had cradled in both love and fear, wondering if they would survive, wondering how she could ever create a happy life for her brother. Genis would be turning 12 next year, growing into himself. Maybe this was part of a rebellious phase. Who knew?

That thought brought with it both a sense of loss and a dizzy, wondrous, beautiful sense of joy.

Not too long ago, she would have never thought they would get this far.

Raine reached the door to the schoolhouse, trying the door handle and finding it coated in some... thick substance. She brought her hand back, red, viscous liquid dripping lazily onto the dirt. Now that she looked properly, there were random puddles of this same liquid scattered haphazardly around the school grounds, almost like it had overflowed from some container being carried across.

The consistency and the earthy smell… There were even still small chunks swimming in the liquid. Tomato paste. Definitely.

That meant Colette had to be involved as well.

Firstly, High Priestess Phaidra had the best garden in Iselia, which, impressively, she somehow maintained on top of all her duties. All the children got their tomatoes from there for their fake Halloween blood.

Secondly, Lloyd would not have survived mashing the number of tomatoes required to produce this amount of paste. Not when, on Halloween night, he had hidden behind Colette every time one of the children, dressed up as vampires with fake tomato blood dripping from their fake fangs, had passed by. It was a ridiculous sight, since Lloyd was taller than Colette, but Colette didn’t seem to mind, smiling and letting out a little giggle whenever Lloyd gripped her shoulder, hissing in her ear about the evils of tomatoes.

Colette deserved to have fun as well before everything came to an end. She was just as much a child, and yet she had to shoulder a heavier burden than even Raine had at that age. The most Raine could do was give Colette the childhood she herself hadn’t had the chance to experience.

Lloyd and Genis were already doing a good job of that. Raine was thankful, but at the same time…

All she could hope for was that they made the best of memories together, memories that wouldn’t fade like those she had of her parents, that remained forever in the most pristine of conditions. In the end, that would be all that remained. Would it be enough? Would it ever be enough to fill the gap left behind by a beloved person, forever gone and never to return?

Walking into the dim building, Raine spotted the trail of red footprints leading straight into one of the classrooms.

This was far too obvious, wasn’t it? What was all the red supposed to represent? Blood?

Were they trying to make her believe the schoolhouse was haunted? She would never fall for that. The “blood” itself was amateur at best; it didn’t have the right texture to masquerade as the real thing.

That was strange. Genis was most likely the one who had boiled the tomatoes. Lloyd couldn’t operate a stove, and Colette might have been able to do it, but not without potentially causing a fire.

Genis should have known the proper technique, but yet…

Might as well indulge them. Children, living the time of their life. She couldn’t begrudge them that. Honestly, it was cute to see their honest attempt at a prank.

Though she would still have to punish them afterwards. She was looking forward to that.

“Lloyd!” She called, placing her book down on one of the dressers lining the corridor and taking a single step into the classroom. “Come out, would you?”

~~~

Earlier that week

“The plan’s simple, really,” Lloyd said from his position at the sink, scrubbing his arms with soap for the third time, the skin starting to turn pink from all the rubbing. Colette and Genis were sat at the dining table with a vat of chunky tomato paste in front of them; Colette staring at Lloyd in concern while Genis stared in disbelief.

All three of them had taken part in the tomato mashing after Genis had boiled the tomatoes, making use of the hammers that Lloyd had… borrowed. Colette had asked if it was okay to use Dirk’s tools on fruits and if it would stain, but Lloyd had shrugged and said that it would be fine and they’d just wash them afterwards. “Dad will never notice” had been Lloyd’s exact words. Genis was starting to doubt that, considering the hammers were now a wonderful shade of red, with stray pieces of tomato pulp hanging on by their dear life.

Surely the tomato paste had been washed off on his first trip to the sink, as it had been for the two of them. Lloyd was making a huge deal out of this. He’d been wincing throughout the entire mashing session and had taken great care to dodge the occasional squirts of liquid.

Lloyd really hated tomatoes that much, huh?

“I know you asked why we’re making the paste so chunky,” Lloyd continued.

Yes, Genis had indeed asked that question. If they were trying to convince Raine of supernatural activity, they were doing a terrible job. That’s what Lloyd had said in the classroom last week, right?

Raine wasn’t even the type to get scared. He was.

“That’s because it doesn’t matter! It doesn’t need to be convincing. In fact, we want Professor Raine to think she’s got it all figured out!”

~~~

Now

Raine felt her foot catch through a loop of something thin and fragile, experiencing resistance as the loop went taut, a loud scraping sound coming from behind her.

Ah. She’d thought it all figured out, and let her guard down as a result. It had been a trap all along, and she’d fallen head-first into it.

Impressive. She’d have to congratulate whoever came up with this later.

Raine barely had enough time to glance up and see the other end of the string now looped around her foot, climbing up the wall and tied to the handle of a washtub resting on a ceiling beam right by the door, before the chain-reaction of tugging string and gravity caused the washtub to tip over and release a veritable waterfall of red liquid.

It all crashed down on her, pelting down on her clothes and face at high pressures. Now, instead of just one of her hands, every centimetre of her was covered with tomato paste. It was heavier than expected, her sleeves weighed down and drooping towards the floor.

Ugh, the earthy smell was nearly overpowering at this intensity, nor was the mushy feeling pleasant. Was this why Lloyd hated tomatoes? She could understand a little now… Though only when there were this many.

Thank the Goddess she hadn’t brought her book in with her. Otherwise, she’d have to murder the three of them.

~~~

“Towel?” Genis offered, crawling out from his hiding place under one of the tables with a folded towel in his hands. Raine was standing absolutely still with her head angled towards the floor and hadn’t moved for a full minute, clothes dripping liquid onto the floor and forming tiny puddles. The washtub was balancing rather precariously on the edge of the ceiling beam. He hoped it wouldn’t fall over and smack Raine on the head.

Lloyd was sitting cross-legged in the corner of the classroom, snickering. Even Colette, sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest next to him, couldn’t keep a smile off her face.

Raine raised her head, and Genis was relieved to see that his sister was, indeed, smiling. He had decided, in the end, to come along of his own volition. He wanted to see the results for himself.

It's been some time since he's seen a smile so wide on his sister's face.

“Thank you.” Raine took the towel, moving away from the shadow of the washtub as she began to towel her hair. The clothes were most likely hopeless. There’d be no cleaning them without a good wash. “Congratulations. You tricked me. Did you come up with this, Genis?”

“No, I did,” Lloyd interjected, waving from his corner. “Did you like it?”

“So you can be intelligent if you apply yourself. Surprising,” Raine muttered, a glint beginning to appear in her eyes. Colette’s smile was beginning to drop, though Lloyd hadn’t yet noticed.

“Ha! Well, now you know how terrible tomatoes are. And this is revenge for all the buckets of water you’ve made me carry!”

Genis took a step back, sweat beginning to form on his brow as he recognised the murderous expression on his sister’s face. Time for the grave, then?

It was inevitable.

“We’re even now, I assume?” Raine towered over Lloyd, smiling sinisterly. “Well, that’s good to know, because I have the most special idea planned for you! All of you!”

Yep. Yep, they were dead. So dead, and there was nothing they could do about it.

As he'd said to Lloyd at the very beginning, this had been a terrible idea.

But... Genis can't quite say, anymore, that he regretted participating in it.

~~~

In the end, Lloyd and Genis were forced to clean the entire schoolhouse from top to bottom. “It has to be sparkly clean,” Raine had warned, or they would really be in for it.

Colette, it turned out, had church duties to attend to that day. Not even Raine, in her position of authority, could touch the Chosen. Colette had apologised profusely to both of them, telling them that she would be back as soon as she was done. After all, she had played her part as well and should accept her due punishment.

So the two of them had slaved over walls, the ceiling, and furniture, armed with an army of rags and a tiny bucket of water that they had to keep refilling. It was toiling work, further slowed down by Lloyd’s staunch refusal to touch the tomato paste. Lloyd was the only one who could reach the ceiling! He needed to stop being so squeamish and just do it!

Admittedly, there were also moments when Genis had thrown the rag into the bucket a little harder than necessary, causing a splash of droplets that hit Lloyd and elicited vicious water-splashing battles. He was trying to express his earlier frustrations at getting dragged into this in the first place (even though he had long changed his mind over the whole thing). At least water would dry on its own.

Colette turned up later in the day with a tray of chocolate muffins that her grandmother had freshly baked, warm to the touch and which melted in the mouth. Genis savoured one happily. He would never pass up Head Priestess Phaidra's baked goodies; they were absolutely amazing and didn't come along that often. Genis watched in amusement as Colette laughed at the messy way Lloyd ate, chastising him in a soft voice and gently wiping the crumbs off the corner of his mouth.

After the wonderful break, it was right back to work. Colette took up a rag herself and began cheerily cleaning, chatting with the both of them and joining in the water fights with an enthusiastic grin until they were all giggling uncontrollably. At this point, Genis could come up with no excuse for his behaviour. But it didn't matter.

Even Raine turned up again, wearing a new change of clothes, and helped clean the floor with a mop. His sister slipped in the occasional berating, which Lloyd enthusiastically retorted as Genis sighed at the usual childish display (ignoring his own behaviour), as Colette covered her mouth and laughed.

The schoolhouse was awash with warm sunlight, laughter alive in each of their chests. Joy fluttered in the air, and the memory of that day was a warm, golden sphere to be cradled and cherished forever.

All in all, Lloyd declared it a success.

Genis was inclined to agree.

#fanfiction #tales of symphonia #colette brunel #lloyd irving #genis sage #raine sage #one shot

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solynaceawrites · 4 years ago

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Wires [1] A Fresh Start

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M Fandom: Devil May Cry Relationships: Dante/Original Female Character(s), Implied Nero/Kyrie, Implied Vergil/Original Female Character(s), Implied Lady/Trish, Dante/Lirael Thorne, Dante/Lir Characters: Dante, Morrison, Nero, Original Female Character(s), Lirael Thorne, Lir Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Violence, Gore, Dark, Horror, Supernatural Elements, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Serial Killers, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut Summary: In Red Grave City, a serial killer stalks the streets. Lirael Thorne, recently transferred from Fortuna and looking for an escape from her past, winds up on his trail. Hunting him with her veteran partner, Dante Redgrave, they try to piece together the wires that bind the three of them together. In a race to catch him before he leaves more victims in his wake, the things thought buried will come to the surface, tearing lives and comfort apart.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“Everybody has a geography that can be used for change; that is why we travel to far off places. Whether we know it or not, we need to renew ourselves in territories that are fresh and wild. We need to come home through the body of alien lands.” — Joan Halifax

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Holding an aspirin tablet between her teeth, craving a drink, Lir listens to the clacking of the keyboard and blinks against the watery light streaming between the blinds. The office of Red Grave’s chief of police is smaller than the one in Fortuna, but neater: gone are the numerous potted plants, the maps and spreadsheets tacked to every available surface, the bookcases littered with little knick-knacks and family photographs. Those personal touches have been ignored in favor of something that is neat, organized, the little bit of warmth the room has coming from the soft bulb of the desk lamp and the mahogany of the furniture. It’s a bit of a relief, really. Sanctus had been old—too old, in the opinion of many—and took on a fatherly role that often left Lir feeling chafed and angry. At least here, going from first impressions, there will be no blurring of the line between duty and her personal life.

Seated with his back rod-straight is her new superior. A gold nameplate on the desk reads J.D. Morrison, and as he reads whatever file he’s pulled up on his monitor, Lir wonders what the initials stand for. James Dean is her first thought, and she finally crunches the aspirin, using the bitter flavor to smother her budding laughter. Sure, yeah, why not? Red Grave is a big city, and maybe Morrison’s parents had been so attached to the ill-fated actor that they’d saddled their son with his name. Certainly wouldn’t be the strangest thing she’s heard of.

“Detective Thorne,” Morrison says. He opens a drawer and pulls out a cigar, which he lights in clear disregard of the signs posted on the doors to the building. “Says here you transferred out for personal reasons.”

“Yessir.” The dull throbbing behind her temples grows at the scent of smoke. “Wanted a change of scenery.”

He coughs, clears his throat. “That so? Well, we’ve had people do it for less. Though your track record . . . You seem to have been on a fast path to promotion. ” Lir says nothing. The expectant silence stretches between them until it turns uncomfortable, but she’s not in any particular mood for niceties. She has an apartment to unpack and a bitch of a headache brewing and she wants to get this introduction over with as quickly as she can. Finally, Morrison sighs, silver plumes curling through the air. “Normally, you’d get a tour and time to sort out your desk, but we got a call this morning and it’s all hands on deck. You up to fieldwork?”

His shrewd gaze rephrases that question nicely. You willing to actually work? “Sure.”

Morrison studies her for a few seconds longer, then nods and stands up, raising his voice to a shout that makes her wince. “Officer Simmons!”

A young man with untidy white hair tucked messily under his cap stumbles in. “Yes, Chief?”

“Take Detective Thorne here to the alley.” Simmons’ face pales, and Morrison barks, “Now!”

“Yes, Chief!” Simmons snaps into a hasty salute before scurrying out of the office.

Lir gives one of her own to Morrison and follows, feeling a sort of bemused pity for the officer. She’d been there once, bright-eyed and eager to please, thinking that the law enforcement they showed on television, with its friendly camaraderie and kind-yet-stern chiefs, was the truth of it. Simmons must still be clinging to that, and she pops another aspirin into her mouth and chews it as they weave through the bullpen to the doors that lead outside.

Simmons doesn’t say much, though he opens her door when they reach the cruiser, flushing under her raised brow, and his uneasy quiet persists well into the ride. Definitely fresh, Lir thinks. Probably still spit shines his shoes in the morning and tells people he’s a cop with pride.The thought is bitter, and angry, and distasteful. Not that it really bothers her anymore; her mind has been particularly not tasty as of late.

They drive through cramped, winding streets that turn unexpectedly into one-ways and cross over themselves into a maze, closed in by the dingy buildings until it all feels more than a little claustrophobic. Red Grave City is coastal, just like Fortuna, but it’s much larger, with more crime, and rumors of rampant corruption and greased pockets give it an unsavory reputation with other law enforcement agencies. Yet in stark contrast, it’s as much of a tourist hotspot as Fortuna, its historic district and scenic parks and ritzy downtown drawing numerous crowds every year, regardless of the season. Lir takes all of it in, the cafès and hotels and convenience stores fighting for space, their colorful signs and banners almost garish against the dull brick, and it’s not until they pass into a more modern area with skyscrapers of steel and glass that she decides to ask where the hell Simmons is taking her to.

“What’s in this alley?”

Simmons jumps, the wheel jerking under his hands and sending them partially over the white lines. A minivan behind them lays on the horn, and Lir watches the driver raise his middle finger as he speeds by once Simmons has corrected. “Sorry, ma’am. Uh, Detective. I thought the Chief filled you in.”

“No.” She straightens. “Just that it’s serious.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he mumbles. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Yes.” The sight of his momentary pout sends irritation flaring hot and thick along her spine. Lir swallows it and rubs her temples. “Just crack the damn window.”

“Sure thing.” He does, and then reaches for a pack on the dash and. Drawing a cigarette from it, he says, “Call came in maybe twenty minutes before you showed up. Jane Doe found in an alley. She, uh . . . Well, it might be better for you to see for yourself, but it’s . . .” His fingers tremble as he tries to flick his lighter. Lir takes pity on him and pulls her own from her coat, and he smiles gratefully as she holds it to his cigarette, though his face is pallid and shiny with sweat. “First body?” At his nod, she sighs. “You’ve probably heard it gets easier.”

“Does it?” Simmons looks at her hopefully.

Lir snorts. “No. Eyes on the road.”

He retreats into a silence that’s not quite sullen, leaving her to her thoughts. Which mostly center around whether or not she’ll have time to find a new bar, one of the nice and private ones where no one wants to get friendly or gives a shit that she’s a cop, only that she pays her tab. When they arrive at the crime scene, Simmons stays in the car, looking ready to puke. Lir raps on the door once it’s closed and jerks her chin, signalling for him to head out, and she waits until he gives a shaky thumbs up and pulls away from the curb to head towards the yellow tape strung between a nightclub on one side and a sports bar on the other. An officer at the corner stops her until she shows her badge, then lifts the tape for her to step beneath. Immediately, she’s assaulted by the wet, mossy stench of death and viscera, and she takes the gloves and shoe covers and slides them on to buy herself time to adjust to it.

Cops swarm outside of the alley, keeping the rabid press contained. Inside, there’s only four others, three men and a woman, but Lir ignores them in favor of taking in all that she can before she’s forced to talk. Four dumpsters are present, two on each wall with the city’s waste disposal logo printed on the side; bits of trash and litter surround them: used condoms, soda cans, scraps of newspaper, all of the usual findings. There’s no spray paint graffiti, and a security camera faces out into the busy street. Maybe they’ll get something useful from it, though she doubts it. In her experience, they’re usually for show, just a weak-hearted attempt to prevent crime or a way to deter violence on the premises of businesses who host rowdy crowds.

The scenery accounted for, Lir turns her attention to the misshapen body in the center. Nude and pale, the woman is covered from chest to knee in red that’s gone black with time, her unseeing eyes staring at the sky with a terror that won’t disappear until the medical examiner closes them on the slab. She walks towards her, offal and iron making her throat constrict against nausea, and the woman kneeling next to the corpse looks up at her approach with a friendly nod. Dressed in a black jumpsuit, she’s no doubt the M.E., or someone affiliated with them, and she stays quiet as Lir kneels to fully take in the mutilation inflicted on the victim.

While the rest of her is untouched, her throat is slashed, and she’s been split open from rib to hip, the skin and muscle peeled away to reveal her organs beneath. As far as Lir can tell, nothing has been removed, but something has certainly been added: a pendant rests on top of her stomach, glistening wetly in the daylight. “I pulled it out,” the maybe-M.E. says. “Dante wanted to see it.”

“Dante?” The woman tilts her head, and Lir turns to see a man speaking quietly but furiously to two uniforms. “Uh-huh.”

“You must be the new detective. My name’s Trish.” Lir looks blankly at the hand she holds out before taking it, and Trish’s handshake is firm and cordial. “I’m the medical examiner, coroner, whatever you’d like to call me. Your stiffs go onto my slab, anyway.”

Her dry humor draws an unwilling smile from Lir. “Okay. Trish. I’m Lir, Detective Thorne, take your pick as long as it’s not Lily. What can you tell me about our Jane Doe?”

“Not much, other than the obvious.” Trish points to the wound. “This was more than likely done pre-mortem, going by the amount of blood—there wouldn’t be so much of it if she was already dead—and there are a couple of hesitation marks at her throat. But as to which of those killed her, and how long ago, why she didn’t fight back, I won’t know all of that until I take her out of here.”

Lir considers all of that. “Why do you think she didn’t resist?”

“No self-defense wounds on the hands or arms. At least, not that I can see.”

“Mm. Your guys get pictures?”

“Not yet.” Trish smiles wryly. “Chief wanted you to see it first. It’s why Dante’s giving those two a lashing, though he’s just shooting the messengers at this point.”

“Right.” Standing, Lir peels off her gloves and drops them into the bag Trish holds out to her. “Guess I should go save ‘em.”

“Good luck.”

Lir snorts as she turns. On first sight, she’s already unimpressed with the so-called Dante. He’s handsome, sure, model or film star handsome even, with his straight nose and strong jaw dusted with a five o’clock shadow, but he’s dressed like a detective from a noir novel: pinstripe trousers and a matching vest, a red tie, white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, brown Oxfords polished to a dull shine. The only things that break the illusion that he’s stepped off the silver screen are the watch at his wrist, the gleaming handcuffs clipped to the back of his belt, the radio at his hip, and the Beretta in its holster next to the radio. She more than half expects him to pull out a flask from somewhere and take a swig mid-tirade, but the only time he pauses is to draw in a breath.

“—how the hell he expects us to carry out an investigation when he’s waiting on some country bumpkin—” “Howdy,” Lir drawls.

He whirls on her so fiercely that she instinctively rests her hand on the butt of her own gun, her pulse roaring into her ears. Dante seems to catch himself, straightening to his full height to scowl down to her, and she’s startled by the pale, frozen blue of his eyes. “You Detective Thorne?”

She shrugs. “Country bumpkin works, too.”

Dante doesn’t have the grace to look embarrassed that she overheard him. “I’m Detective Redgrave. Yes, like the city, no, I don’t give a shit. You done lookin’ at the body?”

“Sure.”

“You hear that, Trish?” Dante hollers. “Take her out.”

Behind her, she hears the telltale metallic clatter of a gurney being placed on the ground, followed by a bit of huffing, the rasp of a zipper, and more heavy breathing and the rustling of fabric. “Are you going to give me the details or am I going to guess?”

He barks a laugh. “Morrison sent you out here blind? Doesn’t surprise me. Sure, I’ll humor you.” With a grin that’s more mocking than genuine, he says, “Call came in at 7:45. Some poor schmuck takin’ out the trash found our body and had the decency to lose his breakfast outside of the crime scene before he called. No witnesses so far, no clothing, no I.D., just—” “What about the camera?” Lir points over her shoulder with her thumb.

“Can’t get to it until the owner shows up, which, according to his staff could be anytime between noon and midnight.”

“Alright. What do you need me to do?”

Dante considers her, that cruel smile still playing at his lips. “You want to help?” She nods. “Go keep those fuckers away.”

“The press?” His expression doesn’t slip, and she shakes her head. “That’s uniform work. Send them to—”

“Either deal with them or go home. I don’t have time to hold your hand.”

Just like that, he turns away in a clear dismissal. Lir stares at his broad back, her head throbbing from the night before and the rage that’s been building since she stepped into Morrison’s office: rage at the incompetence of her former chief, at the glares that had followed her once she entered the precinct, at Simmons’ earnest naivety, at whoever butchered a woman and left her in an alley like she was no better than the trash already there, at Dante himself. It’s familiar, and choking, the same burning that’s festered within her all her life with every snide, “Are you sure you can handle that? Wouldn’t you rather answer phones and let the men handle the rest?”

Instead of giving into her urge to punch him in his smug mouth, she inhales deeply and holds it until spots dance in her vision. Then she exhales and heads towards the bright yellow tape and, beyond it, the reporters and photographers craning their necks to get a look at the violence that’s visited their city. Two steps, and cold fingers curl around her wrist, sending numbness crawling along her skin from where they touch. Lir closes her eyes, counting to ten, and then she pulls free. Only on the other side of the tape does she look back, and the sight of a woman in a red dress with pale hair staring back at her sadly, her lips moving soundlessly, is exactly what she expected. Definitely getting a drink, she muses.

The reporters are no different from the ones Lir dealt with in Fortuna, just more persistent. She repeats the phrase, “No comment,” so many times that it begins to lose meaning to her, until a uniform comes to relieve her and she’s able to hail a taxi. But she doesn’t go back to work straight away. The cabbie drops her at a liquor store, waiting at the curb while she hurries in to buy a mini bottle of vodka and hurries back out, and she cracks it open and takes it like a shot, stowing the empty bottle in her pocket as they reach the precinct. Lir tips him double, then heads inside, and the bustling and noise is so at odds with the sullen silence of only hours ago that she nearly stops in her tracks. It’s only force of will that keeps her moving to the stairs in the back and up them, to where her desk sits just outside of Morrison’s office.

Dante is seated at the desk across from hers, a phone clamped between his face and shoulder while he writes on a notepad. Lir waits until he hangs up to say, “You’re an ass.”

“Been called worse,” he replies distractedly. “Trish’s report get in yet?”

“Not in my inbox. You got a problem with me?”

“No offense, sweetheart, but city crime is different from country crime.”

“I’m from Fortuna. Not the mountains.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure you dealt with a lot of purse snatching.”

Lir bristles. “Listen, jackass—”

“Go see Trish. See if she’s got a report yet or not.”

Her mouth hangs open. Then she stands, slamming her chair back into her desk loudly enough that Morrison looks out from his office with a frown, and stalks back the way she’d come, heading for the elevators. On one hand, she understands Dante’s shit attitude; she’s new to Red Grave, new to their force. On the other, she transferred from Homicide to Homicide, and there were enough of them in Fortuna that the sight of another isn’t going to send her running, and he’s a sour bastard with a chip on his shoulder who probably thinks he can do nothing wrong and his word is law. Which she’s only proving, she realizes, running his errands for him, and she jabs irritably at the button that will take her to the basement and the morgue. Next time he demands she do something, she’s going to tell him right where he can shove it. In the back of her mind, however, disappointment is bitter. So much, she thinks, for a fresh start.

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc dante #dante #dante sparda #dmc oc #lirael thorne #lir #dmc fanfic #dmc fanfiction #writing #story #myfic #wires #dmcweek #dmcweek2020 #holy shit i'm so nervous for this lol #i've been working on it for over a month

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loverofmalec · 5 years ago

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Outside Intervention (FAIR GAME)

Hello again!! I’m so sorry on the wait for this new batch of fics!! School is in full swing and it’s taking up a load of my time. I am going to try and post one more fic tonight and hopefully a few more tomorrow. So if you are one of the few who haven’t gotten their request written out just hold on tight for a little bit more. I am almost done with all of them!! This one is going out to the glorious @calahara. My comrade you were so right when you said ask in the fair game fandom and I shall receive, I really did and ya’ll are amazing. I hope you like this little fic for you it was loads of fun to write!!

PROMPT: Ruby and the others find out about Qrow having a crush on Clover and they tease/encourage Qrow to ask Clover out. (But in the end Clover's the first to ask.) Ask for prompts in the fair game community and you shall receive :) hope you'll get some good inspiration from these. Good luck~!

“So… like when are we going to talk to Uncle Qrow?” Ruby asked.

Yang looked up from cleaning her cybernetic arm. “Honestly, the sooner the better. They keep flirting and it’s getting kinda ridiculous.” She carefully reattached her arm and began to move her fingers to test the connection. “Now, the question is how do we touch on their obvious attraction and not have it where Uncle Qrow clams up?”

Ruby hummed to herself before a little bulb lit up over her head, “I got it, we can just tell him that everyone that they're into each other. And even tell him that as a team we’re getting way to distracted with this unresolved thing between them.”

“Ah, my dear little sister. Yet again you show just how young you are,” Yang got up from her desk and went to her sister’s side. “You have to be more careful than that. We have to plant the seed of mutual attraction before anything can be done.”

Ruby swatted away Yang’s hand and crossed her arms over her chest, “If a mutual attraction is supposed to work so well then why are you and Blake still dancing around each other?”

“Okay, no listen here…”

-x-

After their little argument, Yang and Ruby were on the hunt.

“General Ironwood, have you seen our Uncle? We really need to talk to him,” Ruby smiled up at the man.

He turned around and looked down the hall, his brows drawn together. “If I remember correctly he and Clover are currently training with Winter and the other Ace Ops.”

Yang snatched Ruby's hand and ran down to the training arena, "Thank you, General Ironwood," She called from over her shoulder.

The man smiled to himself and began to make his way back to his office. "Those children," He whispered to himself.

As soon as the sisters made it to their Uncle they were quick to pull him away from the rest of the group.

"Uncle Qrow! We need to talk to you about something super important!" Ruby was bouncing on the balls of her feet, her hands closed into fists in front of her face.

Qrow stood back and turned to look at his girls. Worry flashed for a second before he was able to see that nothing was terribly wrong.

“What do you both want? Can’t you brats see I’m a little busy?” That was a total lie. They had just finished most of their intense training and were only down to hand to hand combat practice.

He smiled as he walked to his nieces.

Clover turned away from Winter dominating Marrow and watched Qrow walk away.

Yang caught the way the man eyed her Uncle and that ‘up and down’ look was anything by friendly.

When the man was close enough Yang and Ruby both took a hand and pulled him out into the hallway.

“Okay, now you both have to tell me what the big deal is,” Qrow laughed and pulled his hands away. He went to lean against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

Ruby took a deep breath and went for it, “We think that you should ask Clover out.”

Qrow choked on just the air, “What- wh- I- you can’t… What the hell are you talking about?”

Yang rolled her eyes, “Come on, Uncle Qrow. We all see the way that you look at each other. Clover is obviously into you so what’s the big deal?”

Qrow pushed away from the wall and grabbed both girls by their shoulders, “We are just friends and besides we’re currently fighting a war. It doesn’t matter if I like him this isn’t the right time.”

Ruby reached for her Uncle’s hand, “We know that Uncle Qrow, but it doesn’t hurt to try. You both make each other happy. We haven’t seen you smile this much in such a long time.”

“She’s right, and besides we would be one hundred percent behind it,” Yang offered her Uncle a smile.

Qrow looked between his two girls and sighed, “You both are something else and should learn to mind your business.”

With that and a promise to think about what they had talked about he sent them back to their room.

Luckily for Clover, he had meant to greet Ruby and Yang only to stop in his tracks when he heard the conversation.

His heart stopped when Qrow walked back into the training room.

“Everything alright?” Clover was proud that his voice didn’t sound as weak as he felt.

Qrow likes me?

“Yeah, just being pains in my ass,” Qrow laughed, his face hot all over.

Clover coughed into his hand, waited for Qrow to say something else then realized that today was not going to be the day where Clover would be asked out to dinner.

He tried to ignore the disappointment in his chest and focused on the fact that Qrow was yet to fight anyone.

“How do you feel about some sparing?” Clover offered.

Qrow perked up at the change of subject, “You couldn’t even beat me last time, Lucky Charms.”

Clover glared at Qrow who was starting to take off his shirt which left him in a simple white tank.

“I would have had you pinned if I hadn’t slipped.”

“Well, just your luck I guess,” Qrow teased.

-x-

A week passed and Clover felt like he was walking on eggshells every time he was alone with Qrow.

At every moment of silence, every lost train of thought, and every god damn time Qrow asked him about his plans Clover was ready.

Then nothing happened, Qrow never asked him out for dinner or even just coffee. The longer it went on the more Clover had thought that maybe Qrow wasn’t really into him the way that he was. Maybe it was just all in Clover’s head and they really weren’t meant to be anything more than friends.

“Hey, Clover are you alright?” Qrow asked on one of the many nights they spent playing cards together. “You haven’t been paying attention for the last five minutes. What’s gotten into you?”

Clover blinked a few times and only them realized that Qrow had somehow taken the cards out of Clover’s hand and replaced it with his own. Their fingers moved to hold on a little tighter.

“It’s nothing, just thinking is all,” Clover tried to deflect and change the subject only to have Qrow shake his head. His hand was tingling from where Qrow was touching him. The sensation did nothing to help keep his heart under control.

“I’ve seen you think, Lucky Charms. This is something else, what’s the matter? You know you can talk to me right? I was starting to think that we were getting close,” with his free hand Qrow rubbed at the back of his neck. His face grew a little pink and he looked away quickly. He thought back to what Ruby and Yang had told him. Then he thought back to his solitude and just how much easier it was when he didn’t have to worry about someone else. Qrow dealt with his own shit and it was nice. Clover popped up in the picture and changed Qrow’s entire view. He didn’t want to be alone, well actually yeah he did. He just wanted to be alone with Clover if that made any type of sense.

Clover felt his heart thumping away at his chest. He took a deep breath and at that moment decided to bite the bullet.

This had the chance of ending terribly or with Clover finally getting the answer that he had needed for weeks now. Fear made his chest feel tight, his mind running at a million miles a minute concocting the worst possible scenario. Was it really worth losing Qrow? Clover knew that it wasn’t, that nothing was worth losing Qrow. At his mental confession, something heavy settled over his heart.

Fuck, I’ve been here before. I know the early signs of this. I’m fal-

“You ain’t going to be scarring me off if that’s what you’re worried about.” Qrow smiled and squeezed Clover’s hand once.

Seconds passed and Clover found his bravery.

“Will you go out to dinner with me? Tonight if possible…” Clover realized just what he said, “...or whenever you’re free.”

Qrow didn’t say a thing. He looked at Clover with wide bright eyes that were conveying too many emotions at once. Then something unfamiliar passed over his face that Clover couldn’t help but think soft. It soothed the lines on Qrow’s face and it made him look years younger.

“Just my luck to have you beat me to it,” Qrow laughed and the sound alone was the most beautiful thing Clover ever heard. “I had an entire plan, you know.”

-x-

That same night Yang and Ruby caught sight of Clover and Qrow sneaking off of Atlas.

“Should we be ready for something crazy?” Ruby asked.

“Nah, the most we need to worry about is just how we’re going to deal with them now that their together.” Yang turned and began to get ready for bed, she couldn’t stop smiling.

Ruby cursed under her breath, “Damn it, you’re right. What have we done! They’re going to be all gross and coupley!”

#rwby #qrow branwen #clover ebi #fair game

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blkmxrvel · 6 years ago

Text

If I Die Young

Pairing: Kara Danvers x Female!Reader

Words: 4,959 (I got carried away)

Request: Hi may i request angst kara x reader? In which reader work as a technician like winn. Shes shy n having a crush on kara. shes always awkward around kara its almost painful but amusing 2 watch. Kara got mission dat require a tech expert n reader won from winn n get 2 go. She n kara get 2 know each other more n finally ask each other out much to the relief of everyone who is listening in open comm. But something got wrong n reader ended up dying in karas arms. Pls do this.🙏

Warnings: Angstish, Death, Not edited

A/N: My longest post yet! This took me a while to write, mainly because I don’t do well with death and really angsty things. So this took a bit more inspiration and energy out of me, but I can’t put it off anymore, so here you go! I’m sobbing. ALSO THANK YOU GUYS FOR 100+ FOLLOWERS! CAN’T BELIEVE YOU GUYS ACTUALLY LIKE MY WRITING I LOVE U ALL SO MUCH THANK YOU

Masterlist | Fandom List/Who I Write For

“Agent Y/LN, show me what you’ve come up with.” You whipped your head around to look at Alex, who had come up behind you and placed a hand on your chair. You jumped a little at the sudden presence but quickly gained your composure. “Were you able to hack into the database?”

“No.” You stated bluntly which made Alex sigh. “They had it locked down tight, and as soon as I made the tiniest bit of progress, they shut it down.”

“Did you at least find some other way?” A grin slowly made its way onto your face. The clacking of keys was heard as you began typing on your computer, random numbers and letters that Alex couldn’t decipher were running across your screen.

“Of course, I did. I managed to get a little bit of the base code that they used for the last one, and you know how nothing is ever gone forever right?” Alex nodded her head. “Well, I used that the base code, put into along with my base code and used that to hack into one of the mainframe computers, I linked my database to theirs. It’s sort of a hybrid To them, it looks like a backup disc, but now we can see everything they see. Everything they type or file or even say, we have got it.”

It took all of Alex to not jump and give you a celebratory smack on the shoulder. Nobody knew how you did it, not even Winn, but they were all grateful for you.

“That’s... Wow! Y/N, you’re fucking amazing. Do we have eyes on them now?” You bit your lip to hold back a proud grin.

“Not physically,” You responded, beginning to type again and pull up something else. “But I found this email, between Kara’s aunt and Lillian, it’s Kryptonian, and I can’t read it.”

“What about the translator?”

“It was able to decode a bit of it, but I’m guessing this dialect is ancient because the translation is broken and doesn’t make sense.” You looked up at Alex who was staring at the screen. “You read Kryptonian, don’t you? Do you think you could decipher what it says?”

Alex was silent for a minute before shaking her head. “No, I can’t.”

Just then, a whoosh of air was heard, a soft thud right after. Footsteps made their way towards you and Alex, but you didn’t pay any attention, you were focused on this email. You plugged different algorithms into the translator, but nothing could give you a clear enough message.

“You have great timing, I was just about to call you.” You kept typing while vacantly processing what Alex was saying. “We need your help.”

“What happened?” You froze, you knew that voice. Your eyes bulged out of your head and your fingers slipped causing you to accidentally erased what you had of the email. Alex explained your current situation to Kara, while you tried and failed to recover the missing fragments.

“Shit!” Your voice rang out. There were no backdoors in your database, you had to start from scratch. “Dammit!”

“Woah there, Y/N! What’s wrong?” Kara’s voice rang out again. A lump formed in your throat, and you placed your head in your hands, disappointment leaving your lips.

“I fucked up and erased what I had of the email, I can’t get it back.” Alex stepped away, knowing that she wasn’t needed anymore.

“Do you still have the email? It’s Kryptonian right?” Kara said as she walked up behind you. You became increasingly more aware of her presence as you nodded your head. With a few clicks and clacks of your keyboard, the email popped up on your screen yet again.

Kara bent down, her head right next to yours while her hands came to rest down on your shoulders. You nearly passed out, holding your breath and trying to not to scream. You tried your hardest not to lean into her, and to lean forward.

“This so cool, Y/N. You did all this?” Kara turned her head a few degrees to look at you, and you looked down at your hands, forcing yourself to be more fixated on them.

You nodded your head, letting out a sheepish “yep” and not daring to look up. You could still feel Kara’s eyes on you, and that made you all the more nervous.

“Don’t get quiet on me now, Y/L/N. This is really great. You were right, it is ancient Kryptonian, most people don’t even study it anymore, let anymore speak it.” Kara reached across your body to grab the pen and notepad that was beside you.

You let out a squeak, followed with an “oh, my god.” You had hoped that Kara hadn’t heard you, but with her super hearing, she probably did. So you had just hoped she would ignore it. She did.

She began writing on the notepad, her head alternating between the screen and the paper. About a minute later, she had a full paragraph accompanied with an address written down.

“They’re going to meet here, Havana’s Hilltop in two days. Apparently, there’s some kind of mass arsenal hidden there, and they’re going to use it to wipe out the city.”

Your head snapped up at that. “Havana’s Hilltop? Are you sure that’s what that says?” Kara stood up and crossed her arms, nodding her head.

“Yeah, I’m pretty positive. Why?” She looked down at you and you immediately averted your gaze yet again.

You started typing on your computer again, scooting closer and pulling up pictures. Alex walked back up to the pair of you, cluing herself in on what you two were talking about.

“Before Lex went to jail, he spent all his time on Havana’s Hilltop. That’s where he engineered all his kryptonite and weapons to take out Superman?”

Alex chimed in. “I thought he did all of that on the White Portuguese, and at his lab.”

You shook your head. “Some of it, yeah, but for the most part, Hilltop was his favorite. He still probably has stockpiles of kryptonite there.”

“And if Lillian and Astra get to it, knowing that Supergirl is coming...”

“Don’t we already have a rapid antidote for Kryptonite, the one Winn engineered?” Kara rubbed at her eyebrows, visibly sighing and trying to keep her composure.

“This time it’s different.” You shook your head, bringing up a diagnostic and a few tests. You waited a few seconds before the test was done, you wanted to punch a wall.

“You’re definitely going to need a new suit.”

“What is that?’ Alex asked. Kara leaned into you again, which made you blush, again. Alex noticed, but she didn’t really say anything. There was a picture of something that looked light rock candy on steroids. It was bulging at the edges, looking like it was alive.

“That, my friend, is Sapphire Kryptonite. That kind would pierce right through yours.

Alex scrunched her face. “There are different types?!”

You nodded your head nervously. “Yeah, as soon as Lex figured out how to genetically modify the original Kryptonite, he had a field day. SK is way more lethal, it targets all your major artery and nerves instead of just the veins. It can shut down your nervous system in minutes. The smallest dose is lethal.”

Kara pressed her face into a stoic expression. Her face hardened while she stared at the image.

“Don’t even think about it, Kara,” Alex demanded while staring at her sister. “It’s too dangerous, we can figure out another way to stop them, one that doesn’t involve you dying.”

“There has to be another way.” Kara hoped. She snapped her head towards you. “Y/N?” You looked at her. “Is there another way?”

You felt Alex’s eyes on you. You darted your eyes quickly towards her and let out another hopefully inaudible squeak.

“Y/N....” Alex warned. “Don’t you dare.” You looked away from Alex, ignoring Kara’s question and focusing back on your hands.

“Alex, stop it. If there is another safe and promising way to do this we will.” Kara moved so she was standing in front of you. She knelt down to be on your level and placed her hands on your knees. Your heart skipped a beat and your breathed hitched.

“Is there another way?” Kara asked you again. You were pretty sure she could hear the banging of your heart and the way your eyes were glued to her hands where they rested on your thighs. “Please, Y/N.”

You sighed, rubbing your face with your hands before nodding your head slowly.

“Hypothetically and probably, yes.” Kara smiled her biggest smile at you, almost leaning in to hug you but stopping herself.

“How?”

“Well it’s pretty simple, we just need another antidote and Kara needs a more vamped up suit.”

“How are we going to pull that off in two days?” Alex pressed. You shrugged like it was the easiest answer in the world.

“Well, not to tell you how to do your job or anything, but you could take a team up to Havana’s HIlltop and get me a sample of the SK. All I need to extract it’s DNA and reverse engineer the effects, use the helix pattern to formulate a new antidote, along with soothing factors and boom.”

They both stared at you blankly, not understanding a word of what you just said. You blushed again before reaching for your phone.

“Winn is out of town but I’m gonna call him. Tell him he needs to come in immediately to make you a new suit and try and come up with another antidote. He should be able to have it done in time.”

“No,” Kara shook her head and stood up again. “You do it, Y/N. You’re way smarter than Winn and this was your idea. It’s time for you to work your magic.”

“I don’t think so.” You started to fold your body in on itself, turning yourself in your chair to face away from the two sisters. “Winn is way smarter than me and he can have it done more efficiently. I don't’ wanna mess up and cause you your life.

“You can do it. Please Y/N.” Kara begged. “I trust you, I believe in your, You got this.”

You thought about it for a minute, weighing the pros and cons. Winn was the one who was more experienced at inventing things, but you were already here and could get started on the work ups quicker. Soon enough, you nodded your head and looked at your crush.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

You were in your new lab, googles on your face, lab suit around your body and syringe in your hand. Alex had just gotten back from Havan’s Hilltop. She was able to successfully extract a sample of white Kryptonite, but they were definitely on Lillian and Astra's radar now.

You were about to apply a reagent on the sample before the sound of your lab doors opened. You didn’t really pay much attention until the alarms in your lab sounded. You jumped, accidentally squirting too much of the reagent before lifting your head to see who set off the alarm.

“Y/N! What happened? Why can’t I come in?” Kara. Your breath got caught in your throat as you looked at her. You knew you had to get over this crush. You didn’t do much around her, which you hoped that she didn’t notice. Most times you avoided her at all costs. You weren’t really fond of how clammy your hands got and how nervous you became when you were around her.

“Oh! Kara, Hi!” You waved at her before making your way towards the entrance. You smiled at her while taking off your goggles. Kara was standing outside of the glass doors, being pushed out and not allowed inside.

“Hey,” She breathed out, returning the smile that you gave her. “Why can’t I come in?” She spoke through the intercom.

Your ears perked up at her question. You rubbed at your earlobes, a nervous habit you had. “Well, I kinda sorta programmed the door sensors into recognizing Kryptonian DNA. So when you walked in, the door locked down.”

“Why would you do that?” She asked you and you felt your neck getting hot. You rocked back and forth on your feet while staring at the floor, another nervous tick. “Y/N?”

“I just- I don’t-” The word got stuck in your throat, so you took a deep breath, thinking about what you were going to say before you actually did. “I’m dealing with pretty lethal stuff. For you at least. This isn’t like other Kryptonite. It’s more complex, more stubborn and I’m just taking the most possible precautions. As you can see there’s an airlock.”

You gestured toward the space between Kara and yourself. “That brushes and takes off any residue of the Sapphire Kryptonite so that I’m not exhaling it or spreading it when I leave. I do not want Alex to kill me for accidentally killing you.” You raised your hands in mock surrender. “No, ma’am.”

Kara looked at your fondly, biting her lip to hold in her smile. Nodding her head, she swept her head back from in front of her face. “Are you sure that’s the only reason you made it? To keep Alex off your back?”

You opened your eyes in disbelief. “Have you met your sister? You may be used to her but she scares the living hell out of me.” Kara laughed wholeheartedly at that, tossing her head back before staring at you.

“I’ve met her. But if you say so, I’ll believe you.” She smiled at you. “I’ll let you get back to your ‘labbing’ then, have fun, love.” You visibly froze and nearly choked at her words when she walked away. Watching her figure, you couldn’t help but want to keep talking to her.

“Kara, wait!” You blurted out before you had a chance to think. She turned her back away from you, coming to where she just was.

“Yes?” She tilted her head, and you had gotten lost in her eyes, smiling softly before she cleared her throat. You jumped, your cheeks becoming red hot and your hands sweating.

“I um... I also built the airlock because...” You rocked back on your feet again, avoiding Kara’s eyes. “Isortakindahavefeelingsforyouandidontwantyoutogethurtandiwouldbecrushedifyougothurtbecauseofmesoiwantedtodoanythinginmypowertopreventthat.” You said in one breath. You stared at the floor. “I also have your new suit ready.” You smiled smugly before turning around and walking away, hyperventilating with what you just said.

“Y/N.” You whipped your head around, looking her in the eyes and fighting the urge not to melt into a puddle of love. “I would love to see the suit when you're done with the antidote, don’t rush just for me okay? I’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, everything will be a’okay, alright?”

You blushed a little more, nodded your head in agreement. You had to admire, you were a bit disappointed and disheartened that she didn’t acknowledge your confession. Just when you turned around you had heard Kara’s voice again.

“And, you in your science gear and the goggles on your face and your hair on top of your head makes my heart stop everytime I see it.” You blushed again, opting to smile to yourself instead of audibly gushing. You assumed Kara had left because you didn’t hear anything. “I mean it.”

You smiled to yourself, happier than ever before your realized one more thing.

“Oh, Kara! I need your DNA!”

“Are you sure we should be doing this? I mean I- I’m not physically trained, I’m weak and I’m just the tech girl.” You high in the air, secure in Kara’s arms while she flew to Havana’s Hilltop.

The day had come where it was finally time to stop Lillian. After 60 hours of no sleep, all you had wanted to do was go home and rest while Supergirl saved the day, but of course, they had other plans for you.

“Me?”

“Y/N?” You and Winn had voiced at the same time. He had just come back from the future, thrown into a whirlwind when it was filled in on what was happening. He was pleasantly surprised when he found out what you had done. He liked to claim that ‘student has finally surpassed the master,’ but you all knew that you were always the master, and him the student.

“You can’t be serious. Why does anybody have to go? I showed you how to use the antidote, the suit is literally more bulletproof and protected than anything else, the antidote works, why do I have to go?” You began pacing back and forth in front of Alex and Kara. “I’m not strong, I’m short, I’m nerdy, I would never be able to defend myself, I’m clumsy, I might just end up falling off Havana’s Hilltop! This is not a good idea.” You crossed your arms set in your ways while you sat back in your desk chair. “Not a good idea at all.”

“Yeah, for once I agree with Y/N. This is way out of any of our caliber.” Winn interjected. Kara followed suit.

“Alex, they have got a point, there are way too many risks and I wouldn’t want Y/N getting hurt,” she paused and spoke again. “or anyone for that matter.”

Alex groaned. “Need I say this again, Y/N is the only one who can troubleshoot anything if either the suit or antidote doesn’t work-”

“Gee, Alex, thanks for the moral support.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. You can hack into the weapons system and override it.” Alex pointed at you and you shook your head, letting out an anxious sigh. “Nobody is perfect. And we have no idea what Lillian and Astra could be up to! They already know we came by once and stole some, who knows what they could have for us.”

“So you want us to walk in blind, with Y/N!?” Kara snapped, glaring at her sister. “We’ve talked about this.” You turned your head towards Kara, confusion taking over your face.

They’ve talked about this? About what? Me?

“I know we have, but I still think Y/N should be there. If anything happens, I will take the blame but Y/N is a vital asset to this whole mission.” Everyone but Alex sighed.

“Fine, but If I die, I’m coming back and haunting you forever.”

“I regret saying yes, I wanna go home. Kara take me home please.” You clung to her body tight, face buried in her neck and body trembling. You were getting close to your destination and your heart was racing.

“Y/N,” Alex chimed in through the intercoms. “You will be fine. You’ve got this okay?” Kara landed a few miles from the entrance. You still didn’t let go, and Kara didn’t try and move you either. She rubbed your back, soothing you for as long as she was able to.

“I don’t want to die.” You whimpered. You knew you weren’t ready for a mission like this. You wish you could take it back.

“Hey, don’t talk like that.” Kara pulled your face from your neck, soon making you stand up. She faced you, hands on your cheeks and wiping away tears. Her heart broke at the sight of your face. She really wanted to break protocol and take you home, but she knew she couldn’t.

“You will not die, okay? I will protect you with my life. I promise.” You both stared into each other eyes, but you being you, you got nervous and subconsciously drifted your eyes toward her lips. She smiled once she noticed, and her eyes were on your lips as well.

“Just kiss her already and get on with it!” Winn shouted. You forgot that he was connected through the body cam on Kara’s suit. (another one of your flawless innovations. Beat that, Schott).

You both giggled before you placed your hands on Kara’s leaning in and connected both of your lips. They moved together in sync, conveying everything you didn’t have enough time to say. You both pulled away breathless, smiling at each other.

“If this mission doesn’t kill me,” You gained your shy voice again, shrugging your shoulders. “Would you like to go out sometime?” Kara nodded furiously, kissing you again.

“Thank God! I got tired of Y/N running everything Kara came around, it’s about time. Both of you have got this. Kara, you lead, take out anyone in the way. Y/N take cover until Kara says it’s clear. Y/N, you need to go to the main lab and shut down everything. If SK happens to Kara, shoot her with the antidote. Okay?” You and Kara both agreed, beginning your trek towards the entrance with held hands and crossed fingers.

You prayed for the best.

You could barely concentrate. The noises of Kara’s fighting along with the cries of her hysterical aunt, you weren’t sure how you were going to do this.

The plan had started off without a hitch. Kara and You had it through the first few floors easily, her taking out all the enemies while you hid in different alcoves and nooks. Being short had its advantages, you had it admit.

Things were going great... until they weren’t. You had made it into the mainframe lab, quickly accessing the arsenal launchers. Knowing that you had a database hidden inside their own made things easier for you: you didn’t have to search for different backdoors.

“Y/N, please tell me you’ve gotten inside already.” You scoffed at Winn’s comment.

“Of course, I have. I already had a database inside theirs so all I have to do is backlog to when the launch codes were uploaded and erase them.”

“What-”

“Who’s the student now, Schott.” You smirked, continuing the assault on the keys. You could hear the wooshes, and the zaps and the grunts coming from Kara. She was doing good, and so was your suit.

“And....” You began to type faster, permanently deleting one-hundred percent of the launch codes. The words “DELETED” and “ERROR 248: CODE NOT FOUND” appearing on your screen make your heart leap. “I’ve got it! They aren’t going to launch! Kara!”

“One second!” She panted out and she blasted another enemy with her sonic punches. “Hide!”

Nobody needed to tell you twice. You quickly got down under the desk, lucky that you were enclosed. The sounds of guns and punches stopped, but you waited until it was clear.

“Okay, Y/ N. Let’s go, we don’t have that much time.” Kara grabbed your hand, swiftly lifting you up into her arms and running. You held tightly onto the antidote gun, you had a feeling that this mission wasn’t quite over yet.

“Kara, Kara, Kara, when will you ever learn. When it comes to me, you won’t win.” Kara stopped in her tracks, putting you down and standing her ground.

“Just give it up, Astra. Working with Lillian will get you nowhere fast.”

“That’s what you think.” Suddenly, you heard a rumbling, and a power charge noise, and your heart sunk.

“Lillian, what is that?” Astra whipped her head. “I thought we agreed that we wouldn’t use that.”

“Oh yeah, forgot to tell you.” She pointed the gun at Kara. “Change of plans.” Kara was still in the same spot as she was before, but you could tell she was terrified. Her hands were clenched and her knees, buckled. This wasn’t good. Not good at all.

“Y/N! What the hell is going on.” Alex yelled at you through your ear comms. “What happened? Why aren’t you back at the extraction point?”

“Uhm...” You whispered. “Astra, Lillian is a backstabber, she has the SK gun ready and pointed at Kara.” You took the antidote gun out of your holster, vibrant red and orange colors bulging at the center.

“Don’t worry,” You reassured. “Kara won’t be dying. The suit is already recognizing the SK emissions of radiation. It’s getting stronger.” That much was true; the red, blue and gold suit was quickly turned black orange and grey. You smirked to yourself. Another win.

You pointed the gun at Kara, ready to take the shot if things went south.

“You, Supergirl, have caused me so much anguish and turmoil. It’s time for you to pay.” Lillian cocked the gun. Your heart slowed down.

“What about all the people you’ve caused turmoil to. Your daughter, Your son, even yourself. You’re the one who needs to pay.” There was a slight waver in Kara’s voice.

“That’s it!”

Everything stopped. Your heart. Time. Life as you knew it.

Lillian had pulled the trigger, it touched Kara’s suit, but it immediately disintegrated. “What the hell?!” Lillian exclaimed. Kara smirked, a surge of pride flowing through her non-poisoned veins.

Lillian had aimed for her stomach, then again at her neck. Both times, she had failed.

“It worked! Holy shit, it worked!” You whisper yelled. “Lillian fired three times and it didn’t even make it past the suit. She’s gonna make it.”

“Who’s there!?” Your mouth zipped shut. You had failed to realize one important fact. Astra was also Kryptonian, which means she also had super-hearing. Your cover was blown.

In an instant, Kara pressed a button on her suit, the rest of it protecting her head. You had really thought of everything. Kara blew her heat breath on the Sapphire Kryptonite gun, causing it to explode.

Astra screamed, holding her hands and face. The SK had impaled her skin, and she began to inhale its fumes. Two seconds later, just as expected, she died.

Kara began to work on Lillian, fighting her in hand to hand combat. “Y/N run!”

You didn’t want to leave Kara, but you knew she could handle herself. Yo on the other hand, not so much. You made a quick run for it, sprinting towards the stairs when a loud bang! rang through the air. You barely recognized it, but then, you lost your balance, tumbling down the first flight of stairs.

“Y/N!” Kara yelled, tears already brimming her eyes. “What did you do!?”

Lillian smirked at kara, laughing cynically. “I told you you were going to have to pay.” Kara's eyes turned and she picked Lillian up and slammed her into the rock wall, killing her instantly.

“Y/N!” She ran to you, finding you at the bottom of the steps, in an awkward position. You were holding your wound, sobbing profusely.

“Kara! Y/N! What happened!?” Alex yelled. She could hear screaming and crying, and she couldn’t help but think the worse.

“Y/N! Y/N’s been shot. Lillian shot her.” She carefully scooped you up in her arms, making sure to keep the pressure on your stomach.

“Fuck the stupid extraction point. I”m flying back to the DEO!” Kara ran down the steps or floated rather. From your perspective, it was like she never even touched the steps.

“Kara?” Your frail voice rang out as she got outside.

“I’m here, baby. I’m here. We’re gonna get you to the DEO and you’re going to be fine okay? Everything’s going to be fine.” Your vision started to blur and you weren’t sure if that was because of your tears or the amount of blood you’d lost.

“I don’t wanna die, Kara. I don’t wanna die.” You were already in the air, halfway to the DEO.

“You are not going to die. We still need to have that date, remember?” She flew faster, noticing you were starting to go pale.

You smiled a weak smile. “I really wanna go on that date.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “You and me both, love. But we can’t do that if you let go. So keep holding on for me yeah?” You nodded as best as you could and that was all Kara needed.

Your actions began to contradict your words, your eyes slowly closing. “Y/N!?” Kara yelled, flying into the DEO. “Y/N?. No, no, no, Y/N please stay with me. You can’t leave me!”

Agents swarmed you both, Kara flying you to the med bay.

“I’m not going to leave you, just resting my eyes for a bit.” You groaned, the pain becoming ever more present now that the adrenaline is wearing off.

“Not yet. Keep them open for me.” You nodded and reached for Karas hand/ She grabbed it.

“At least the suit worked. You were right, my brain is good.” You smirked. Alex came rushing in, yelling her apologies and regrets. If it wasn’t for her adamance, you wouldn’t be in this situation.

“Your brain is phenomenal. And you’re going to be back using it when you’re better.” Kara promised. You shook your head.

“I’m not gonna make it, Kar. I’m no doctor but I know that much blood should not be coming out of me.” You smiled lightly.

“No, no. You’re going to make it. You do not have a choice.” Kara demanded. She pulled you into her.

“You’re right. I don’t have a choice. If I did, I’d be at home watching TV. But life just works out weird.” You were touch and go for a few minutes before you asked Kara a question.

“Do Kryptonians believe in the afterlife? Like a heaven or hell?” Kara squeezed your hand harder. Ignoring the physicians coming in and out, all she cared about was you.”

“Yeah, we do. No one is ever gone forever. They always stay with you.”

“I like that. Remember that okay?”

“BP’s dropping. Heart rate increasing. Abdominal embolism!” Kara was full on sobbing at that point. Your eyes closed, you mustered up one last squeeze to Kara’s hands, before releasing your final breath.

Everything stopped.

Kara’s heart.

Time.

Your heart.

Hope.

Life as you both knew it.

At least your suit worked.

#wlw #kara danvers #kara danvers x reader #kara danvers imagine #alex danvers x reader #alex danvers #winn schott #winn schott x reader #lillian luthor #death #wlw imagine #sad #crying #supergirl #supergirl imagine #supergirl x reader #wlw fanfic #angst #cw

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thosepeskysens · 4 years ago

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Ottawa Senators Week in review: Feb. 1- Feb. 7 Keep moving forward.

Just a note on what these reviews are kind of going to look like, as I’m hoping to do these for at least the rest of the season. I’m basically doing this because I can’t really watch games because with my schedule it doesn’t make sense to get an NHL.tv subscription, but there’s really no other way to watch games since I live in the US, since I don’t have cable. So I listen on the radio when I can, but otherwise this is just a way for me to keep track of what is happening on the team, and a way to hopefully engage with other Sens fans!

*Game Recaps*

2/2 @ Edmonton 4-2 L

So this game was one I wasn’t able to listen to most of because of work, but it doesn’t sound like it was a real fun one to watch anyways. Edmonton scores 3 goals in the first period. Has Ottawa scored first in a single game this season? I honestly don’t know.

In the second period, Cedric Paquette gets the Sens on the board with assists from Thomas Chabot and Tim Stützle.

Stützle picks up the lone goal in the third period, but in the end the Sens fall 4-2. Despite Paquette getting one of the Sens’ two goals of the game, he and most of the other vets continue to not play well. Certainly not well enough to justify keeping them on the team over young players who need the experience. TAKEAWAYS: If you’re going to suck either way, I say just play the kids.

2/4 @ Montreal 3-2 W

I actually managed to listen to this entire game! Hooray! And, we actually managed to win! Holy shit!!

Thankfully, it seemed that DJ Smith finally got with the program and switched out vets like Coburn and Paquette with younger players like Erik Brännström and Artyom Zub. Alex Galchenyuk was also in the line up, as was Colin White for the second game in a row, after being a healthy scratch for a while. It’s not totally clear why these players weren’t in the lineup from the beginning, though rumor has it that DJ just straight up didn’t like Brännström’s playing last year. But whatever the reasons, they definitely proved that they should have a spot on the team. Both Zub and Brännström played very solidly all night, and the defense was a completely different story compared to the rest of the season so far. White also seemed very competent; it’s nice to see him getting time in the top 6.

Montreal started the scoring (of course) with Gallagher, which was a very unfortunate goal that definitely was not Matt Murray’s fault. Derek Stepan lost his man in front of the net, causing Montreal to go up 1-0. In the same period, thanks to a beautiful pass from Stützle to Tierney to Chabot, Chabot gets a goal and it’s tied 1-1. Then, on the PP, Stützle, finally getting some time on the first power play unit, gets a goal to get the Sens up 2-1 with just twenty seconds left in the first period.

In the second period, Connor Brown scores with Brännström and Stützle both getting an assist, which gives Stützle three points on the night, and Brännström’s first of the season! However, it is pretty quickly followed up by Brown taking a very, very stupid penalty for holding the puck, but thankfully the PK holds it together. Which is good, because the Sens spent a lot of time on the PK this game.

In the third, Brady Tkachuk takes a stick to the face and Ottawa goes to the PP, only for Montreal to score short handed, shortening Ottawa’s lead to 3-2. In the last minutes of the game, Ottawa is on the PP, 5 on 3, and DJ calls a late timeout, which I think was totally valid, considering we had just given up a shorthanded goal. In the end, we managed to hold on to the lead and win our first game since opening night. While the Sens definitely did not play complicated hockey, they did play competent hockey, which sometimes is all you can ask for. TAKEAWAY: the kids are alright.

2/6 vs. Montreal 2-1 L

I was able to listen to the first two periods of this game, both of which seemed fairly promising for then Sens, but I wasn’t able to watch the final period, which I think means the loss was on me this time guys. My bad.

The first period wasn’t awesome for the Sens. Montreal had a lot of momentum that the Sens weren’t able to really match. A Brännström penalty (which people mostly seemed to agree was a bad call) led to a Montreal goal. The Sens really need to learn how to start scoring first, guys. Colin White manages to tie it up on the PP. The Sens were outshot 19-8 in this period, so all in all, not bad results. Murray continues to look much better.

The second period is scoreless, but the Sens definitely dominate this period. Unfortunately, they aren’t able to get anything past Jake Allen, who started in goal for Montreal. The Sens outshoot Montreal 13-7.

In the final period, Montreal’s Josh Anderson gets the GWG on the third attempt. Murray is able to make the save, then saves the rebound, but isn’t able to make that third save, which is honestly more on his teammates than on him. Sens lose, but honestly they played well, and weren’t blown out. They continued to play competent hockey, the kids continued to be alright, and we managed to spend way less time on the PK. TAKEAWAYS: I think the Sens are finally heading in the right direction; they just need to keep building on what they have.

*Lineup Changes*

2/1 Abramov sent to Belleville

2/2 Hogberg gets the start in goal, Chabot still injured (day to day), Wolanin still injured, not skating today.

2/3 Jonathan Aspirot sent down from the taxi squad to the B Sens. Erik Brännström has been recalled from B Sens to the taxi squad.

2/4 White is still in the lineup, Brannstrom is HERE, Galchenyuk is back, and so is Chabot (thank god). Paquette is out (thank god), Coburn is assigned to the taxi squad.

Line in practice:

Tkachuk - Norris - Dadonov

Paul - White - Batherson

Stützle - Stepan - C. Brown

Galchenyuk- Tierney - Watson

Paquette - Anisimov - Haley

Chabot -Zaitsev

Reilly- Zub

Brannstrom - Gubranson

Coburn- J. Brown

2/5 Derek Stepan changes numbers from 15 to 21 for some reason. Logan Brown gets changed to 27. Which is weird because he specifically said when he got here that LB should keep it????? Wtf??

2/6- no line up changes going into the game

2/7- Filip Chlapik and Matthew Peca moved from the taxi squad to the B Sens. Logan Brown is moved up from the B Sens to the taxi squad. HALLELUJAH

*Highs of the weeks*

-Not claiming Tony DeAngleo off waivers. Thank god. As always, there was some chatter about it on twitter, but thankfully nothing came of it.

-Thomas Chabot shows up to optional skate and gives hugs. This team just has such a fun vibe; I just love it.

-Tim’s 3 point game!!! Amazing! And his 3 game point streak!!!

-Winning a goddamn game. I was so happy I was literally floating through work the next day. Is it bad to have your emotions so dependent on a hockey team? Asking for me.

*What is going on?*

In the Sens fandom:

I would say that right now, Sens Twitter’s favorite players are Stützle, Brännström, and Zub, all with good reasons. They had a good week, and we only hope they continue to be utilized. DJ Smith did talk about how much Brännström has improved from last year, so fingers crossed.

The mood on twitter after winning Thursday’s game was absolutely euphoric. You’d have thought we clinched a playoff spot. And honestly, even after losing on Saturday, the general consensus was that the Sens hadn’t played terribly, and that they continue to improve with every game.

In the rest of the hockey world:

The main things that happened this week were a) the Tony DeAngelo drama and b) the NWHL cancelling the rest of their playoffs.

If you weren’t following it, Tony DeAngelo is a fairly infamously racist player on the NYR who has been spouting MAGA bullshit like crazy this year. This past week, after a loss to the Penguins, he blew up on his own goalie, who is very vocally anti-racist, and then he got punched by Chris Kreider. He was then put on waivers, and subsequently cleared waivers. It looks like he has *finally* played his last game as a Ranger, and now we can only hope that no one trades for him. The whole situation was sad, because it took this for the Rangers to actually do something about him, and hilarious, because, well, the man got punched and then basically fired for it. And he deserved it.

If you haven’t been following the NWHL, they had been playing a shortened “bubble” season/playoffs, which was very unfortunately cancelled this week after players on basically every team tested positive for covid. It’s pretty unfortunate that this amazing group of players weren’t able to finish their season, but in my opinion, it’s even more unfortunate that the health and safety of these players was put at risk without adequate compensation.

*Looking forward:*

-2/8 vs. Edmonton

-2/9 vs. Edmonton

-2/11 @ Winnipeg

-2/13 @ Winnipeg

Frankly, with two games against Edmonton on consecutive nights, with only one day’s break before travelling to Winnipeg, I’m not feeling *super* optimistic about the week, but hey as long as the kids keep getting ice time I’ll be happy. Here’s to hoping we get to see some of the Paul-Brown-Batherson line that worked so well in the AHL.

Go Sens go!

#I hope I am not going to be the only one getting enjoyment out of these #adfjl;sfa #tbh i'll probably do them regardless lmao #though i am open to suggestions and ideas #ottawa senators #sens week in review

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rosymiz · 7 years ago

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Like A Rose, CH 13: Golden

Title: Like A Rose By: ArisuChanSenpai (Visit my blog for AO3 link!) Fandom: League of Legends Ship: Jhin x Sona

The lights suddenly shut off, and the audience fell silent. They heard the strumming of strings as a spotlight shone on the side and cheered as it followed Sona to the center stage. Sona took a deep breath to calm her nerves, maintaining the elegant smile she barely managed to work up. She couldn’t see anything but a blur in the dark behind the light. She forced herself to keep a steady breath, or she was going to make a mistake.

But she didn’t know how long she could be able to pull this off. Only one question continued to ring in her head like a broken music box.

Where was Jhin?

Her finger plucked the wrong note, but she managed to recover by improvising a section in a different key before letting the last note reverberate and returning to the original key. She had to tread carefully, or this concert was going to be a disaster.

Adagio, she repeated to herself as she played. She had two songs until the intermission before the last half of the performance and one more before the finale. She would have to search for Jhin during then. But for now, she had to concentrate on her own state of mind.

Shen and Zed were watching from the side, observing Sona with a watchful eye. Zed narrowed his eyes when he couldn’t see the dancer in the other dark corner of the stage. “You’re certain?”

“I am. I wouldn’t make such assumptions otherwise,” Shen replied. “Khada Jhin is the dancer, and I haven’t been able to find him this entire time.” He tightened his fist under his crossed arms. “I’m suspecting that he somehow manipulated Lady Sona into making him the dancer of the concert, but…” He paused, thinking back to last night. “But at the same time, it doesn’t feel like that’s accurate.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Zed hissed. “The Golden Demon is here, and he’s probably going to send hundreds of these people to their graves.” He started walking away to scout the area until Shen stopped him.

“I’m not letting you catch him this time,” Shen said in a low voice. “You’re filling in for me for the speech, Zed.”

Zed’s face contorted. “Why should I do that?” he growled as he jerked his arm out of Shen’s grip. “I’m more suited to catch that monster in a dark night like this. You, on the other hand, he would spot from a mile away.” He then looked at the city square and beyond. “He obviously has no plan to counter us like that time at the Blossom Festival.”

Jhin had tried to lure them during a festival before. They didn’t realize what he was planning until his traps sank its teeth into its victims. He had used white and red lanterns to help judge the distance between his gun and Zed to make that perfect kill. But by the time they gathered together to make chase, Jhin already slipped out of Ionia.

Shen grabbed Zed’s arm again and held tighter. “Because when you head in, you don’t think about the safety of other people. We have the entire city gathered for Lady Sona’s concert, and Jhin might shoot her of all people. Do you know what kind of outrage that will cause?”

“Tch.” Zed clicked his tongue and shot a glare at Shen. “Fine. What is your plan?”

It was intermission. Sona flew past the musicians and confused crew members to go to the inn Jhin was in. If luck was on her side, he was standing in front of that dresser—waiting, deciding, and hopefully still resisting. She had a few minutes. Her fingers plucked a chord that embedded her each step with magic to help accelerate her speed.

She pounded on the door of the inn, hoping the innkeeper was in and not at her concert. When the door opened to a young woman cradling a baby, she tried to point to Jhin’s room on the second floor. The woman seemed to understand and let her through with a key. Sona bowed in gratitude and rushed up the stairs, shoving the key inside and bursting into the room.

The only sign indicating Jhin’s visit was an open dresser, where the shelf that held his bag was empty. Sona’s breathing quickened as she hurriedly went through the drawers, the closet, the restroom, under the bed, even the dresser to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. The gun was gone. Jhin took it with him.

Hopelessness overwhelmed her as she collapsed to her knees. His compulsion overtook him again, and she wasn’t there to help him. She cursed herself for thinking he wouldn’t slip away under her watch. But she couldn’t keep pitying herself like this forever. She had to find him.

There was no time. The intermission was going to end soon, and Sona had to return to perform the next few songs. Her eyes glinted with determination as she made her way back. She was going to search for him during Shen’s speech. But not without help.

“Sona, dear!” Lestara paced to Sona’s side. “Where were you? The intermission is about to be over.”

The musicians also walked over to her. “Lady Sona, where’s the dancer? We haven’t seen him during the first half. We even tried searching for him while you were gone, but he’s nowhere.”

“I need your help. From all of you. Please.” She clasped her hands together in plea.

“What do you need, dear?” Lestara asked.

“Stall for me when Shen is giving his speech before my finale.”

“Lady Sona, you’re up!” the stage manager called.

“Is it about him?” she referred to the dancer. “Sona, what’s going on?”

“We promise we will tell you everything. But I have one special request to ask of you, mother.” She calmly breathed out. “No matter what you see or hear, please wait for us. We’ll be ready.” She rushed up the steps to the stage manager’s urgent ushering, leaving her mother with just that.

People cheered again as Sona made her way to the center stage with her usual elegant smile. She waited for their applause to quiet down before she started playing. Her magic spilled onto the strings, creating an aria of green and turquoise around her for an extra kick. The audience marveled at the sparkling atmosphere that lifted Sona with elegance. They clapped to the lively beat of her song, singing along.

Akali and Kennen were watching from the sidelines of the crowd. Kennen was on Akali’s shoulders clapping to Sona’s music while she was nodding her head to the beat. She then noticed Zed exit the venue and hop away from roof to roof. She watched in suspicion when Zed seemed a bit… larger than she last saw him. She lost track of him to catch Kennen from almost falling off her shoulders.

Next was the song Sona made for Shen. She looked to the side, seeing Shen leaning against the metal pillar with crossed arms. Did Shen always wear black? He seemed paler than usual. She brushed it off, tuning her etwahl to the proper key to play his song. There was no time for her to think about little details.

“Oh! I think it’s the song she made for us!” Kennen whispered excitedly.

“Well, it’s meant more for master since she only knew his preference in music.”

“Yeah, but we’re technically connected to him, so,” he drawled, “we still count!”

Akali smirked behind her mask. “Good point.”

Lestara stepped on to the stage to help interpret Sona’s signs. “My daughter has worked on this song specifically for the sponsor, Master Shen, to express her gratitude. She did her very best to match the song to his tastes, and she would like you all the close your eyes and listen. Listen and think of a memory that it reminds you of.” She stepped backstage to let Sona start.

She let a a progression of notes resound loudly a few times in a slow tempo. She then played a soothing song that reminded Akali and Kennen of their meditation with their master. It brought a calm to their hearts as they closed their eyes, reminding them of a past time they considered the happiest. It was a song fit for someone like Shen, who meditated every day to maintain the balance within him.

Shen felt himself relax. Memories of his father surfaced as he listened. His father’s broad back that stood tall and proud with the Eye of Twilight at the ready. His father’s kind disposition after a night of training together with Zed. He wanted to reach out to those peaceful days when Zed was still a brother to him. He opened his eyes, Zed’s red cloak on his back flowing behind his back.

He wasn’t the one leaning against the metal pillar backstage. Shen was much, much farther away, crouching behind the slant of the tiled roof of a building. He and Zed had switched places, Shen wearing Zed's helmet and red cloak and Zed only wearing the black outfit underneath, but keeping their weapons on their person. His eyes scanned the top of buildings to search for a man on the rooftops or in the empty streets below.

It didn’t take him more than five minutes by the time he spotted a figure sitting on the edge of a building, his unruly, white wig swaying in the wind. The dancer—no, Khada Jhin—was watching the concert with that trademark gun hanging from his hand. The sliver of moonlight glinted off the metal into Shen’s eyes.

But why did Jhin look so resigned? He was hunched over with his legs crossed, not having even noticed Shen watching him from nearby. Shen didn’t dare reveal himself yet, for Jhin could have easily shot him the moment he felt his presence. Patience.

Jhin watched Sona play the song for Shen. It was just as relaxing as he remembered. He let out a heavy sigh. “What am I doing?” he asked himself. What did he grab his gun for? His compulsion collided heads with his desire, his need, for peace, refusing to let him rest without whispering poems of artistic beauty. Uncertainty plagued his heart from taking the shot.

He didn’t know how to handle the fierce battle inside him. He felt so compelled to hear screams of agony and terror. But he wanted peace. He needed the peace. Yet he just couldn’t attain it right now. He looked down at the gun in his hand, turning it over and feeling the grip against his fingers.

Another heavy sigh left his lips.

Silence filled the air after Sona played the last note. The audience applauded, their claps growing louder with their cheers. Lestara joined Sona onstage, her hand to her back and whispering something into her ear. Sona nodded and left after bowing with grace.

“I’m sure you’re all anticipating Sona’s finale, but we would like to hear the sponsor’s thoughts about the song my daughter worked hard on.” She gestured to Shen to come up to the stage. “Master Shen?”

Zed trudged up to the stage, his head lowered to hide his red eyes under the shadow. “Thank you… Lady Buvelle, for the kind words. I feel… humbled to hear such a beautiful song made in my preference in music.” This is how Shen sounded like, right? He suppressed a growl of spite rumbling in his throat.

Jhin’s head slowly looked up. That wasn’t the voice he knew to be Shen’s. He stood up on his feet, his back straightening. It was another familiar voice that he’s been searching for: Zed. Both Shen and Zed were here for the grand performance he’s been longing for for years. To think they were in the same vicinity without him planning their little reunion. How unexpected!

But he didn’t laugh. He didn’t smile.

His hand gripped the gun tighter as he aimed it at the stage.

Would the compulsion stop if he got rid of Shen and Zed once and for all? Was that the true answer to the peace he wanted?

He was lost.

Zed was about to walk backstage after finishing his awkward speech.

All he needed to do was shoot.

The tip of thumb found its way to the hammer of the gun.

If I was Khada Jhin, where would I go? Sona asked herself. She was running past strips of buildings, looking around for a spot that The Golden Demon would choose to shoot. No, these buildings would bar his vision. She arched her neck to look above the roofs for something. Anything.

She whipped around when she didn’t hear the voice from the stage anymore. The speech was finished. She was about to slam her hands on the strings in frustration and anger when the sound of the female musician’s voice boomed from the city square.

“Hello, Ionia! Can I hear a round of applause for the sponsor responsible for this lovely concert?” The crowd cheered. “We would like to introduce ourselves as the background instrumentalists of Lady Sona’s concert tonight, and we cannot describe how honored we are to perform together with her. On Lady Sona’s request, we will be playing a few songs of our own while she’s preparing for the finale!” She pulled Zed back to the stage with them. “Oh, Master Shen! You should stay and listen!”

“Keep Shen on the stage. Do whatever you can,” she told them.

Sona smiled in overwhelming gratitude at their way of stalling for time. She kept running.

And running.

She was about to give up hope until a pin of light gleamed brightly in her vision. She looked up to see Jhin standing on the edge of an abandoned building, his weapon already assembled to take the shot. Her eyes widened as she dashed into the building and up the stairway to the rooftop.

No voice was there to let Sona yell his name. No matter how hard she tried.

At the end of the staircase, she saw Jhin wrap his finger on the trigger. In a panic, she opened her mouth and strummed a chord.

Suddenly, Shen and Zed’s cowering frames disappeared like an extinguished flame as Jhin was hit with a surge of golden music. All the peaceful and joyful memories in his life flooded into his vision, and his time in the cherry blossom grove with Sona began to envelope him like the sunlight that shined through the trees into the clearing.

For a moment, he swore he heard a voice. A voice he felt drawn to—familiar—but unheard. Always silent and contained in music. He heard her call his name. His real name. The light drowned the darkness until there was nothing left. His gun fell to his feet with a metallic clatter.

Jhin turned around to see Sona running to his side in tears, throwing herself into his arms and send them collapsing onto the ground. “Sona…” He breathed in gasps as he realized she stopped him from making a big mistake. He embraced her tightly as he listened to her repeat his name through her breaths. “Sona… Sona… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

A whistling sound coming from her throat as she sobbed intensely. She made it in time. She made it just in time. She stopped him from killing someone. Her tears wet his robe as she gripped the backside.

He dug his face into her shoulder as he whispered gentle apologies. “I’m sorry. I won’t be losing my way anymore. I promise. I’m so sorry.” He shut his eyes. He never wanted to cause Sona this much heartbreak. It crushed him to listen to her cry. “This time, this time for certain, I’m with you. I’m still with you.”

His ivory mask slipped from his face beside his legs, the edge of the mask chipping off as it hit the ground. It didn’t matter to him anymore. He didn’t want any part of that life ever again. He opened his eyes when he sensed Shen’s presence. He looked up to see Shen dressed in Zed’s clothing, holding the hilt of his sword behind his back.

“We finally caught you,” Shen said firmly.

This was it. Jhin stared at Shen a little longer, waiting for that destructive flame to be ignited again. But there was nothing. He couldn’t feel that compulsion to kill anymore. It disappeared like the last wisp of smoke from the stub of a candle after being used up.

“So you have,” he could only reply before pressing his lips to Sona’s shoulder and cradling her in his embrace.

#league of legends #jhinxsona #khada jhin #sona buvelle #rosywrites #like a rose #*smiles*

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blueyedcas · 7 years ago

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Wings Like Midnight (Ch.12)

Can also be read here in AO3

Chapter 1 -> Previous Chapter -> Next Chapter

Fandom: Supernatural

Relationships: Gabriel & Other archangels and angels

Warnings: None

Summary:

An angel’s wings are a beautiful and unique thing, their colour supposedly signifying their owners personality and temperament. But when an fledgling is branded an ‘abomination’ the moment he’s created, will Gabriel find it in himself to help the little one? And is it possible that Heaven’s new angel could help him back?

(I promise the story’s better and more complex than the summary)

Hiya guys! Here's the next instalment! I feel like a do this every time, but sorry its taken so long to upload! I am trying to get things out quicker but it doesn't really seem to be working :'D Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading and thanks again to Dayna, my wonderful beta! Sophie xx

Gabriel frowned with confusion as he began to make sense of Naomi’s words.

Control? Well, that doesn't sound good.

“I-it is very simple, really,” she continued, filling the silence left after her first declaration. Her eyes darted around the room and she chewed her bottom lip, obviously still skittish about addressing the archangels after Gabriel’s outburst.

Michael paused before opening his mouth. “What would this… ‘new form of control’ look like?”

“Well, it would be a simple procedure,” Naomi seemed to relax as she began to explain, comfortable in the science of her suggestion. “I would mold a needle from a blade, just fine enough to enter the eye without to much damage.”

Gabriel almost missed what she’d said, the horror of her suggestion lost in the casualness of her tone.

“And of course, we could heal the patient afterwards,” she said offhandedly before continuing with her explanation, “The needle would be enchanted with a spell, designed to encourage the... ‘patient’s’ grace to bend to our will. Then, we would be able to control the patient’s memories, thoughts and will - re programming, if you will.”

The youngest archangel grimaced at the back of the room, his nose wrinkled in disgust. He peered around the room, hoping to see his emotions mirrored on the faces of his siblings. Instead, there was no change. All looked the same as they had before Naomi’s repulsive suggestion as if this were just another normal day.

With a closer look, however, he saw something even more revolting; a twinkle, a little flame of an idea, burning in Michael’s eyes, which were fixated on Naomi as he listened. Lucifer’s blue eyes held a similar spark, a subtle smile curving his lips, barely noticeable among his blank features. Only Raphael, whose eyes darted between her elder brothers, seemed uncomfortable in the light of Naomi’s proposition.

Gabriel shook his head, horror and disbelief bubbling through his blood. Looking upwards, he smiled his frustration, fists clenched as he started to pace. He was trying to contain his rage, his revulsion, at how his older brothers seemed so keen to abuse their power, so eager to mistreat their own family.

“So, how do you know this?” Michael asked while leaning forward, head tilted in curiosity.

“Well, it… er,” Naomi began to falter, stuttering for a while before finally mumbling out, “In theory,”

“So you only know in theory?” Lucifer said. Both the elder archangels seemed to slump with disappointment which only enraged Gabriel further.

“That is your only issue with this?”

Everyone in the room looked towards Gabriel, startled, apart from Naomi, who shrunk into herself further, reverting to the quivering shell she was just minutes ago.

“She wants to impale people with some weird blade, bend their grace to her will and control members of our family: and your only problem is that she hasn't tested it out? I’m sorry, I must have missed the bit where dad made you all into twisted psychopaths,” he spat with a bitter smile

To Gabriel’s relief, his brothers seemed to consider his words. With one quick look at Lucifer, Michael sighed heavily and rose from his seat to address Naomi.

“I’m afraid we cannot accept your idea, but we thank you for your time.”

He offered his hand to Naomi which she shook, a grateful expression on her face despite her rejection. As their eyes met, something seemed to pass between them, though Gabriel couldn’t tell what it was. After a few moments, it ended and Lucifer gestured to the door.

Naomi hurried over to it, obviously desperate to be free. It was strange, Gabriel thought, to see her so… Submissive. As she gave a quick, courteous bow before leaving, the archangel remembered Anna’s fear of her Guardian and Naomi’s intolerant treatment of her.

Obviously, she has no problem mistreating those she saw as beneath her.

“I was very disappointed in you today, Gabriel,” Michael said, giving him a pointed glare.

Reminds me of someone.

“I don't know how I will bare the pain,” he replied through gritted teeth, already making his way towards the door.

“Your disrespect will not be forgotten,”

Gabriel paused under the door way, fists clenching by his side. Deciding he would not give Michael the satisfaction of his fury, he continued, ignoring the muttering that could be heard the moment he left.

|/#~#\|

Anna’s smile faded as she saw Gabriel’s expression. He stood in her doorway, biting his lip, arms crossed tightly across his heaving chest. He was restraining himself, binding down every part that may hurt someone if his outrage got the better of him. The only thing left unrestrained were his eyes, their gold darkened with rage.

“Are you okay?” Anna asked hesitantly. The only reply she got was a curt nod.

She sighed, moving to the left of her door to allow him space to come through. He marched in with a brief “thanks”, beelining straight for the main living quarters. After watching him storm past, she shut the door, composing herself before facing the furious archangel in her nest. Gabriel’s sullen silence didn’t last long.

“Michael is the biggest dick of all the dicks,” he declared the moment she walked through, “He has won first place as the largest, most annoying, self centered, arrogant dick in all of father’s creation,”

Anna raised her eyebrows and her lips began to curve into a small smile as she watched Gabriel rant, staring at the wall in front of him. She bit back a laugh as he turned to her, finger raised in the air and eyes widened with aggravation.

“-and that’s saying something considering Lucifer and Raphael are in the running too. They’ll have to settle for the lesser prizes of smug shit and Michael’s personal arse licker. With the amount of shit they both pour out, I’m surprised they’re wings aren't permanently turned brown. You would have thought it would stain. Especially Michael’s wings.”

His voice turned high pitched and breathy.

“Oh, how white, how pure he is,” he cooed mockingly, hands waving around wildly, “Father’s chosen one, the saviour.”

His voice quickly returned back to normal. “I’m surprised he doesn't leave a trail of brown wherever he goes with the amount of verbal diarrhea he spews.”

Anne tried to hold back her laughter but was only half successful, her chuckle coming out as a snort. Gabriel caught her, pausing for a few seconds before realising how funny he must sound. Soon, he was chuckling with her, leaning back against the wall.

“What’s verbal diarrhea?” chimed Balthazar as he walked in, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Anna sighed, aiming a small glare at Gabriel who bit his lip guiltily.

“Never you mind. Did you have a good nap?”

Balthazar’s bottom lip jutted out sulkily. “No.”

Anna smiled sympathetically, reaching a hand out to gently stroke his head. The little fledgling leaned into her touch as she explained.

“Balthazar’s a little bored of sleeping now, he just wants to be fully grown and have it over and done with.”

Gabriel nodded his understanding.

“When will we find my grace?” Balthazar whined, looking up at his guardian.

“When the time is right, and no sooner,”

The little one sighed, disappointed with her answer.

“Where’s Castiel?” Gabriel asked Balthazar, attempting to distract him.

“He’s upstairs in my room,” he answered, a proud smile growing on his face, “I made him a bed all by myself!”

The archangel smiled softly, glad he was not the only one looking out for the young fledgling.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, ruffling Balthazar’s mop of hair. He aimed a quizzical look at Anne and she understood immediately.

“First door on the left,”

He smiled his gratitude and walked out the main living quarters, into the hallway. It was funny, he thought, how emotion can change perception. When he first arrived in Anne’s nest, it had felt cold and unforgiving, the opposite of a home. Now, having spent so much time with it’s owners, the nest was beginning to feel warmer and homely, as if the love they had so kindly given was spreading throughout the house, unfurling through every gap and crevice.

He made his way upstairs, previous anger forgotten as only thoughts of Castiel filled his mind. It was extraordinary, he thought, how such a tiny being who he’d only just met, and had no idea how he was to turn out, had made such an impact on him.

He reached the top of the stairs, turning left as Anna had instructed, smiling as he found Balthazar’s bedroom door. It was covered in little drawings and bright colours. Some were of Heaven, others of angels. At the top, Balthazar and Anna stood, holding hands, grinning widely. Above them was a sentence written in scribbly writing; “Only Balthazar and Anna allowed to enter. If you are not us GO AWAY”.

Gabriel thought about abiding the sign and going downstairs to ask Balthazar’s permission to enter. However, in the end, he decided against it as the young fledgling had not said anything downstairs. After taking a few moments to look at the drawings, Gabriel gently pushed the door open.

Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it!! Hopefully the next instalment will be out soon as I just finished reading the 'How To Train Your Dragon' series and I'm feeling inspired :) man, it is such a good series. Until next time! Sophie xx

#Wings Like Midnight #WriterOfManyColours #supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #fanfiction #gabriel #castiel #cas #gabe #michael #lucifer #raphael

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