#its what he gets for killing hundreds of kids

[seresinhangmanjake]

Forgetting

Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: Jake forgets to pick you up at the airport because of his ex, and for the first time, you think maybe you and Jake aren't mean to be.

Notes/Warnings: Angst, but ends fluffy. Fighting. Cursing. This was a request that I said I'd have done in a couple days and it took me a week and a half. Sorry about that. Also, please be gentle. I haven't written for Jake in what feels like a millennium.

Words: 2700

Jake Seresin Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List

As much as it would kill you to know that he could be hurt, you hope he’s hurt. You hope he’s on his way to the hospital to receive life-saving treatment because if he’s not hurt, if he’s not receiving life-saving treatment, then he simply forgot about you. And that makes your heart want to claw its way out of your chest and scamper across the floor until it’s well out of your range to catch it. 

Your call goes to voicemail for the fourth time. You send your twelfth text: I hope you’re ok. I landed an hour ago. Please call me. Nothing different than the eleven other messages that have gone unanswered. Forty-five more minutes pass of you sitting on a bench by the airport exit before you finally surrender your last shred of hope and call Bradley to come save you. 

Within the hour, you’re sighing in relief, the sight of a friendly face almost bringing you to tears. He approaches you with open arms and you fall right into the embrace, comforted by the hug that should be in your boyfriend’s arms, and the warmth that should be from your boyfriend’s body, and the forehead kiss that should be from your boyfriend’s lips. 

“Please tell me he’s ok,” you say against your friend’s chest. 

A heavy palm rubs up and down your back. “No one could get ahold of him.”

Your head jerks back so you can meet his eyes. “Oh my god!”

“I’m sure he’s fine, kid. Don’t worry.”

“How can you say that? He was supposed to be here and he’s not and–” You pause when Bradley looks away from you, and a hefty stone settles in your gut. You know your friend well. He’s a good man, honest but sensitive, and when that honestly meets that sensitivity, it results in his inability to look someone in the eye if he thinks the truth might hurt them. You’ve seen it a hundred times, but never with you. 

Your posture wavers with your lengthy exhale. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Another great thing about Bradley: he doesn’t make you play any games. You don’t have to jump through hoops. You don’t have to ask the right questions in the right way in order to get what you need out of him, unlike many men, your boyfriend included, who recently has found ways to skitter around telling the full truth. 

“Javy said he saw him a couple of hours ago,” Bradley says.

Your back teeth clench. Your mind shoots to one conclusion. “With her?” you ask. Bradley’s eyes drift from yours again and you nod, a tear at the ready to leak down your cheek. “He forgot about me because he’s with her.”

“We don’t know that for sure, and–”

Your hand scrubbing down your face cuts him off. Your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose before you suck in your whimper and say, “Rooster, why did he even ask me to come here?”

“Because he…I mean, we thought he–”

“You thought he gave a fuck about me.”

“He does,” Bradley says, stressing his words in an attempt to reassure you. “He never shuts up about you.”

“Sure,” you say. “He gives so much of a fuck that he forgot about me to be with his ex. How can you explain that?”

Rooster sighs. His hands slip into his jeans pockets just to have something to do with them. “I can’t.”

“Exactly.” 

No one can explain it. Not you, not Bradley, not Jake. Everyone you know back home would be telling you to run for the hills right now. They were already wary of this ‘Navy guy’ that they’d only met twice around the holidays, who lives a decent distance away from your entire life and who constantly requests that you be the one to hop on a plane rather than the other way around. 

For the duration of your time together, you’ve been understanding of that sacrifice. You know his schedule doesn’t allow impromptu trips out of state, but that hasn’t made it any less exhausting for you. And maybe that’s a sign. Another sign. A nail in the coffin. Maybe you and Jake aren’t meant to be. And why would you be? You met him on a brief vacation to visit a friend who doesn’t even live in the same town anymore, and somehow, during those few days, he convinced you to take a chance on him. So you took the leap. But being that bold doesn’t guarantee you won’t fall flat on your face, and you think that’s exactly what’s happening. You’ve tripped over a guy only to realize he doesn’t care about you to the same degree that you care about him. 

However, you’re not the type to avoid confrontation. If Jake Seresin is going to mistreat you because of his ex, then he is going to do it to your face. He’s going to look you in the eye when he shows himself to be the liar he is. It may hurt more to go to him rather than get on the next plane home without so much as taking in a breath of fresh Californian air, but you’re too upset to let that thought fully develop, and a moment later, Rooster is following your stomps out the door. 

—

You find him at the Hard Deck, standing at a hightop with a beer glass in his hand that clinks against the one in his ex’s before he takes a sip. Bradley’s comforting hand lands on your back in solidarity. You only met him because of Jake, but the two of you bonded despite their differences, and having him by your side now makes him nothing short of a life-saver. 

He helps guide you through the crowd to the table, and when Jake spots you, he chokes around the liquid going down his throat. His blown-out emerald eyes rival saucers and his mouth gapes like a fish, but then his stare flicks to Bradley, and those eyes shrink into narrow slits. His face heats to a boiling red. 

“What the fuck!” Jake snaps, shocking the composure right out of his ex’s poised stance. Bar patrons close by turn their heads but quickly return to their own conversations. Jake steps away from the table, coming to a halt in front of you and his squadmate. “What the hell is this?”

You figured he’d be bothered if you showed up with Bradley in tow. And good, that’s what you feel he deserves. Jake’s been wary of the other Dagger’s closeness to you for a while, and even though you know—as does Bradley—that it’s an asinine concern, you have no problem using it against him now. But still, the intensity of his reaction manages to surprise you. You didn’t think he would be this angered by the sight of you with another man that it would have him overlooking his mistake of forgetting you.

Your arms cross. “This is your girlfriend and the guy who saved her when her damn boyfriend left her stranded at the airport.”

“Excuse me?”

Jake’s ex’s prying gaze tugs at your attention, but when you glance over his shoulder to catch her in the act, she quickly looks away—just more proof that whatever the fuck she’s doing with your boyfriend is something to be ashamed of. 

Bradley’s saying something. You can’t quite hear him over the anger-induced fuzzing in your ears, but you’re pretty sure it’s a scolding based on the twisting of Jake’s features as he shoots back his own words of aggression. And then your hand is in his and you’re being pulled through the bar, out the back door, and onto the deck where the only intrusive sound is the lapping of waves on the shore. 

“Why are you here?” he asks. 

You scoff to mask the heartbreak that comes with that question. “Because you asked me to be here.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?”

“It’s Wednesday,” he says. 

“It’s Thursday, Jake.”

“No, it’s—” he freezes, and you don’t know if he’s tipsy or stupid, but it takes him a minute to come to the same conclusion: it is indeed Thursday. “Fuck,” he mutters.

Your lower back meets the edge of the railing, and you sigh, thankfully keeping in the tears. “What are you doing with her?”

“What the fuck are you doing with Rooster?” he returns much more forcefully. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I called, I texted, I left voicemails,” you tell him, “But clearly, she was more important.”

Jake’s hands pat down his pockets, mouth setting in a frown when he can’t find his phone.

“Don’t bother. Phone or no phone, you forgot about me because of her. Last time I was here, you were late for one of our dates because of her. You spent fifty percent of our time together stepping away to take her phone calls,” you say, trying and failing to avoid the bitter taste on your tongue. “Just fuck her, Jake, if you haven’t already. I only came here to tell you that she can have you.”

You’ve never seen him fall apart the way he does. You’ve never seen the blood drain from his cocky face. You’ve never seen his features break and crack and contort into the vision of pure devastation as they do. His parted mouth must’ve gone dry because his next words come out slightly hoarse.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, but it’s more of a plea than anything. “Why…Why would you–” He swallows. A wrinkle forms between his brows and he shakes his head. “You love me. You didn’t mean to say that.”

You do love him—terribly so—but you’re willing to be one of those people who won’t view love as enough if it also means laying you out as a fool. “Jake–”

“Take it back,” he says. His steps are quick, and then you’re trapped where you stand, his hands on either side of your body, gripping the rail. Eyes drill into yours, and for a second, you feel a pang of guilt. “Please, baby, take it back. She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“And I mean less.”

“No!” he says. “That’s not true. You’re everything, ok? You mean everything to me. She was just helping me, that’s all.”

“Helping you,” you mimic with a roll of your eyes. “Helping you what? Get off?”

With a little whine, Jake’s head drops between his shoulders, his blond hair brushing your collarbone. “Please. Please quit saying things like that.” His hands slide closer to your body and land on your hips. You don’t push him away—you can't—and his touch softens you ever so slightly.

“Then tell me the truth,” you say. “Right now. I’m giving you one shot.”

His head snaps up. His eyes flick back and forth between yours, ironically searching for your honesty, as if you’re the liar on trial here. 

“It was a surprise,” he tells you. “She’s a realtor now, and for the last few months she’s been helping me find a new place, one that’s bigger than what I’ve got because I was going to ask you to move in with me.” Your heartbeat stutters. A layer of goosebumps coats your arms. When you don’t respond, he continues, “I hate missing you. I hate how unfair it is that you’re always the one to come here because I can’t fly out at the drop of a hat. I know it’s a big step, but I figured if I had a place, I could show you how great things could be. That’s why she and I came here. We were celebrating because I’m signing on a house first thing tomorrow,” he says. “Well, that’s why I’m celebrating, anyway. She’s probably celebrating because she just made a decent commission.”

It’s almost unfair how that new information doesn’t make you feel any less of a fool. Had he told you that under any other circumstances, you’d be leaping into his arms, kissing him like you’ve been deprived of him for years, repeating ‘yes’ over and over between those kisses, but you can’t. You can’t because his explanation doesn’t fix everything. 

“That still doesn’t change that it’s Thursday, not Wednesday,” you say.

“I know, baby. That’s my fault. I was so excited, and I was thinking how perfect the timing was that I would be able to pick you up tomorrow and drive you by the house now that it’s officially mine, but I fucked it up.”

Jake’s thumbs press into your hips, and you’re instantly reminded of each moment in your relationship when you’ve felt that same light pressure on your skin. A gentle claiming. The same pressure you felt when you agreed to be his girlfriend. The same pressure you feel whenever you’re in bed together. 

You sense eyes on you other than your boyfriend’s, and when you turn your head, you find his ex staring right at you, an expression on her face that you wish you could say wasn’t one of distress, but it is. And worse, it’s obviously not distress for herself, but for Jake, as if she’s hoping she wasn’t just a contributor to a bomb dropping on his life. 

Jake’s busy staring at you despite your averted gaze, and in a monotone voice, you say, “She feels bad.”

He doesn’t follow your eyes. “Because she knows I’ve been doing this all for you.”

You blink. Your hand runs down your face before sifting through the strands of your hair. “You really want me to live with you?”

“Of course I do,” he tells you. He’s shaking his head, but you know it’s because he thinks any idea that he wouldn’t want you to be blasphemous. His hand cups your chin. “I love you.”

With a sigh, you push aside the rollercoaster of emotions, the misunderstandings that lead to frustration and hurt, and look him directly in the eye. And where moments ago you thought you saw lies, you see honestly. Where you thought you saw betrayal, you see love. 

“Can I see it?”

—

It’s small—a two-bedroom with a little driveway, the shingle siding painted a blue-gray shade that is more blue than gray; bundles of flowers bloom in the boxes under the windows; a bay window protrudes from the side of the structure facing the beach. And it’s perfect.

You can imagine building a life here. You can picture a dog that you’ll have to build a fence for and children years later that will have you reinforcing the fence because they’ll probably be like their father, and Jake didn’t choose to be a pilot because of his lack of adventurous nature. You look at this house and you can see the core of a family. A house that, no matter how far you go for Jake’s job, will always be home base.

Jake is leaning around you so you can both watch the house from the passenger seat window. “I’d offer to show you around, but I don’t get the keys until morning.”

“It’s ok,” you tell him. “I don’t need to see inside.”

When you say that, he falls back into his seat. The back of his head presses against the headrest. His fingers squeeze the steering wheel with his sigh of defeat. “You don’t like it.”

Shifting your body to face him, you say, “Jake, I love it.”

Just like that, his eyes brighten like a pouting child who was just offered a lollipop, and you can’t help but chuckle. You can’t help but forget everything that happened earlier in the night, all of it seeming so insignificant now, even though you know it’s not, and you both know that if he ever makes the same mistake again, he’ll have hell to pay. But something tells you that won’t be a problem. 

“Enough to live with me?” he asks.

You nod. “Enough to live with you.”

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Comments make my entire world, so if you liked it, let me know? Thanks :)

[hedgehogcryptid]

I’ve realized that the main reason I don’t give a fuck about Red Hood’s actual canon crimes is not that I think they’re justified, or reasonable, or even just funny. He has been shown doing very fucked up shit that at times has very little, if anything, to do with any reasonable moral code. But the reason I don’t care is that I’ve steadily become very critical of villain framing. It’s so very common to have a villain say something very reasonable like “poor people shouldn’t die” and then complement it with “and I will kill babies about it.” If the first statement is reasonable, and the narrative does not provide a reason that justifies the balls-to-the-wall batshit “solution” the character came up with, then I assume the author is either deliberately or subconsciously villainizing a specific group of people for no reason, and I don’t vibe with that. At that time I no longer care about what the author/narrative actually has to say and my reaction becomes “the narrator is actually a biased witness and anything they say about this person’s actions should be taken as exaggeration”. Oh, so Jason is an indiscriminate killer who thinks every petty criminal deserves to die? Wrong. They’re exaggerating and taking the facts out of context. So he killed a hundred people in prison with barely any provocation? It probably wasn’t that many and the ones he did were trying to kill him to begin with, with no intervention from the guards, so it was self defense. He attempted to kill a child? Wrong, that was a two-sided fight between two teenagers, he just won so the other one’s bitter. Like, I don’t care how much made up context I need to stuff in there to make it make sense, I will do it because the narrative decided to frame the homeless kid from a poor neighborhood as the villain against the nice and kindhearted humanitarian billionaire so its logic is fucked from the get-go

[solelifauna]

Oooh i really like that!!! The batfam who possessive,unhelthy protective toward each other except reader (fortunately or unfortunately 😅) I would like to know more about the other members too. What was the trigger who make them like that toward each other?

(Sorry if the english is bad , i'm belgian )

OHHHH, I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO ASK!!!

Oof, starting out with Bruce Wayne. This man has been through it. He'd already been a little obsessive, considering his response to his parent's death was to dress up as a bat and beat people up. This, plus how he vies for control so much it becomes an obsession. It starts off with Dick, his first son. He didn't really plan to become as attached as he did tbh, he just didn't want the kid dying out on the streets, seeking the same type of retribution he also once sought. Dick was, to say the least, tough to deal with. He didn't want Bruce as a dad, Dick already had a dad and he was dead. But as days and patrols went on, Bruce became B, and on certain nights when Dick wakes up trembling, B becomes dad. And that cements it. Bruce was now a dad.

Then comes Jason. The kid was a riot, having the balls to jack tires off of the Batmobile and having the audacity to hit him with the tire jack too! Bruce knew Jason would be his son then and there, no question. Sure, Jason was a bit scared now, but once he settled in, it felt like everything was in place. He never stopped being a riot, reading and coming up with quick quips like nobody else. Eventually, Jason came to find out about Bruce's night job, and bada-bing-bada-bang, the second robin was ready to take on the streets. Dick wasn't too happy but its fine, turns out Dick ended up loving the kid just as much as him. Which is why Jason's death completely sent Bruce over the edge. His boy, his, killed by that god awful clown. It takes everything in his body to not rip the joker in two.

"It wouldn't be what Jason wanted", he tells himself as he brutalizes another petty thief. He says as he nurses another glass of brandy. He says as he benches Dick and starts another screaming match. But he doesn't care, he can't lose another son.

Then incomes little Tim Drake. He almost gets whiplash when this tiny little boy enters his office, thick folder in hand with a determined look in his eyes. Tim drake says his piece,

"You're killing Gotham."

"You're killing yourself."

"You need a robin."

"I can be Robin."

Those words set him off. Jason. His precious son-dead because of his crusade. the word "no" leaves his mouth stronger than he intends. He doesn't remember much about the exchange after that, but he remembers Alfred escorting a glaring Tim Drake out of his office. The folder remains on his desk, pictures, and documents askew. He opens it once more half-heartedly, his gaze blurring with tears as he looks down. Pictures. Hundreds of them, ones of him and Dick, of Him and Jason, and dick and Jason. He cries silently in his study that night. But it doesn't stop there, Tim Drake is persistent. He tells him to stop, but there's no quelling Tim. He follows him on patrols, stopping him when he gets too violent, and calling ambulances while Bruce tries to dampen the rage in his body.

Eventually, everything blows up one day, he yells at Drake, telling him to get lost or else he'd end up dying out here, dying like Jason. Tim never does stop. Instead, somehow, he now finds himself spending his nights with another little black-haired, blue-eyed boy. This one smaller than the last. He doesn't grow attached this time, he swears he won't. But it's hard not to love the boy. His witty banter, his long rants, and his insane cognitive skills, making even Bruce marvel at him. He's not Jason, he reminds himself, but it doesn't matter. He finds himself loving Tim Drake all on his own. Dick on the other hand had come around to loving Tim faster than Bruce had. Tim was his bird, just like Jason was. Tim had earned his respect. And now three became four.

Then the Redhood appears, a duffle bag full of heads arriving with him. He takes Gotham by storm, crime lords being killed left and right. He's elusive, obious Leauge training instilled in him and something else. Something familiar. Then Batman gets a warning from Hood,

"Keep an eye on your new Robin. It'd be a shame if he ended up like the last one."

And just like that Tim, Robin, is benched, much to Tims's outrage. Hes sent to Titans Tower, far away from from Gotham, far away from Hood. Its too bad that doesn't stop the Hood from finding the little bird anyway. Green is swimming in his vision when he first enters Drake Manor, he knows his replacement isn't here, but he's hoping somebody else will be. In the end, Hood doesn't find the Replacement's parents, when hacking into their flight logs he finds out they've been in Honduras for the past four months. Puzzle pieces click in Hood's head as he gears up towards Titans Tower. There has been a change of plans, well, not completely. Bruce would learn his lesson, but his plans for Tim have drastically changed. He'd scare the bird, nothing more,

"No more dead Robins." He repeates, a new meaning to those words.

(P.S! I know canonically the Drakes were not abusive, maybe a smidge neglectful, but they loved Tim. And Tim loved them. they were good parents. This is all following fanon.)

He doesn't expect Tim to fight back, sure it's a pathetic try considering the amount of sedative gas he'd pumped into the building. He simply cooed as he stroked Timmy's hair, watching as the bird slumped into him. The last word leaving his mouth was a slurred "Ja'sn." And Hood, Jason is pleasantly surprised. What a smart bird. Some events happen in between, but eventually, Jason finds himself back at the manor, back with his family. Bruce and Dick don't let him or Tim out of their sights their first week back.

This is when Jason meets Stephanie for the first time. She isn't adopted, no, but he could see that she's family nonetheless. As much as Bruce reprimands her, he also urgently ushers her over to Alfred for a check-up, thanks to another one of her reckless stunts. She and Tim get along great, whilst she and Dick are a rambunctious bunch, making it their life's goal to give B grey hairs. She's a feral thing, fighting to prove to herself that she isn't her father. Again, she was a Robin too, if only for a few days, still, she was there. Jason ends up cuddled on a couch with her and Tim on either side of him, watching some shitty ass crime movie. He grumbles, but there's no heat behind his complains.

Then comes Cassandra Cain. Within hours of meeting her, it was a unanimous decision to take her in. With her background, her story, and her lack of speech, it would be difficult to send her off elsewhere. And now Bruce has a Daughter, and his boys have a sister. Its not common knowledge, but Bruce has always wanted a daughter, and Cass was a saint. She was sweet yet lethal, she cared about her brothers, often going out with Dick, and learning how to read with Jason, whilst she and Tim bonded over casework. And just like him and her brothers, she wouldn't dare let a hair on any of their heads be hurt. Once she gets more comfortable talking, she doesn't ever stop reminding Jason that she's the older out of the two of them. She and Dick bond over Ballet and Dancing, his gymnastics, and time spent in the circus making it possible for him to keep up/aid Cass with her newfound hobby. Steph and Cass are even more well off together, usually patrolling together, or Steph ends up dragging Cass along to plot her next scheme. Bruce watches in adoration.

Then you arrive. He's completely blind sided when Alfred says he has a call from CPS, saying he has a biological child. You're a small thing when you arrive at the manor, only eleven years old. But right now, he just can't get over the fact that he has a child, one that was of his actual blood, and you've just been dumped on his doorstep. He doesn't know what to do, so he just gives you an awkward pat before retreating into the cave. He cant deal with this right now, he has one too many high-profile cases going on at the same time, and now, everyone couldn't just walk and talk freely around the manor. He sighs into his hands, your timing really was poor, but he knows it isn't your fault. You're just a kid, a kid who lost her mom. But yet, Bruce can't bring himself to talk to you. Alfred keeps reminding him with a disappointed tone, and Bruce promises that he'll get around to talking to you, but he just never does. It doesn't help that he starts seeing you less and less. Unbeknownst to him, you've taken the hint that nobody really wanted you here, so you just stopped caring. And Bruce doesn't care enough to amend your thoughts.

Lastly comes Damian. His blood-son. The son of him and the woman he once loved, Thalia al Ghul. Sure, there was some love lost over the years but he still had feelings for her. How could he not? All those days spent training in Nanda Parbat, how could he not still love her if even just a little bit? And Damian? He's the living, breathing amalgamation of their love. It doesn't help that the boy is adorably feisty, and dangerous, but it's clear that he's still a kid seeking approval from his father and mother. He knew Tim was going to be ecstatic, finally, he wouldn't be the youngest (though he forgets that technically you were the youngest). It's an immediate catfight when Tim and Damian meet, though Tim doesn't take it to heart, he knows how League influence works. He does, however, put Damian in his place subduing him before everyone else comes down to see what happened. Immediately Jason grabs ahold of Damian, remembering him from his time in the league. He holds Damian in a possessive grip as he looks him in the eyes, green swirling in them.

"baby bat, its good to finally have you back."

"Tch, its good to see you too Akhi."

"Still Dami, you're new here, but we also have rules. No harming family. You touch Timmy or anyone else again, ill keep you locked up in my room." Jason says gently.

Damian only nods his head, familiar with his akhi's protective behavior. Tim was his brother then, and everyone else was family.

"I understand Akhi, no harm will come to Drake. I apologize, I did not know he was family."

Tim only flashes Damian a feral smile.

"No harm done Damian, you're not the fist person in the family thats tried to kill me."

Jason grumbles. Whilst Dick laughs. What a fucked up dynamic, am i right?

Of course, nobody really tells Damian you're a part of the family too. All Damian knows is that you're the only biological daughter of Batman, you are not considered family, and he must kill you to inherit his rightful place. What he didn't know, was that you were just a civilian, someone not even worth the effort. Still, the damage is already done. Damian expects some kind of punishment, however, he only gets a light reprimand and is let off the hook.

"He's still learning." They all say.

He ends up cuddled on the family couch in between his father and Drake, whilst Grayson, Todd, and Cass fight over what movie to pick. He doesn't see you anywhere.

'Good.' He thinks to himself.

You were of inferior breeding, weak and fragile. You had no place amongst them or anywhere else. Still, you were his half-sister, meaning he had some obligation to you. Sure, he hated being related to someone so weak, but hey, according to league customs, you were marked by his sword, meaning it was now his job to be your keeper. So, he'd make sure you'd stay at the manor and stayed out of trouble and out of the way.

Anyways, y'all are going to see more of their dynamics with each other and y/n in later chapters. Just wanted to drop this drabble. Thanks for this ask! I really enjoyed writing this.

[bigfatbimbo]

Silly request but imagine helping Bill "groom" his triangle self. Gently wipe him with a cloth. Carefully dip it in the little space between the bricks, can't leave that zone unclean! Alternatively, a classic soapy bubble bath. Silly straws included, what the hell, he's probably drinking the bath water and listing the chemical ingredients back at you while you gently rub him clean. Fun times

The Bug Collector

1.1k words,, Bill Cipher x reader

a/n — Procrastination killed my soul during this, I think it turned out okay, though! Sorry for typos, your girl is tired.

warnings — SFW, post!weirdmaggedon, as ‘fluffy’ as you can get with Bill cipher, he is his own warning, kinda toxic relationships, fluff and bill being pathetic

summary — Reader assists a recently fallen Bill Cipher in self care, despite his general all-mighty asshole-ness.

The exoskeleton of a bug was practical, a water-tight barrier most commonly known for muscle attachments, and its use to shelter and protect the insects gushy insides from its harsh environment. 

The exoskeleton of a triangle was for mostly for aesthetics, as the underneath was far more horrifying than anything in the harsh environment around it. Or so the triangle claims.

You dipped a soapy sponge into the bucket in front of you, as bill propped his feet up on the bathtub. 

“You conquer worlds and destroy planets, but yeah, why not draw the line at cleaning yourself.”

“Please, what better way to make use out of my new human pet— partner, than this?” He corrected loudly and purposefully. Then looking to the side, he mumbled, “And besides, kid, you have no idea how hard it is to clean between the bricks. Euck— So many blind spots.”

The first part was a throwaway reminder that he had far more power than you in this dynamic, something you’d picked up on Bill casually doing in his time with you. 

Being roommates with a butt-hurt demon, given the ending of weirdmaggedon, allowed you the privilege of being more cautious than previous humans were with Bill. For example, you’ve taken to keeping track of his repeated habits and patterns. 

On of which, just so happened to be reminding you how small you were compared to him. 

You jabbed the sponge in-between on of the bricks, “Ow!” He narrowed his eye at you, “Watch it, pal. I’m starting to think you’ve never cleaned a triangle before.”

“I’d hate to give that impression.” You softened your hold on him, “Delicate work, I always say.”

And it was delicate work. After his defeat, he’d been roughed up a surprising bit, powers even weakened. 

Weakened.

“Not too delicate,” he shot you glance. Guess he’d heard that thought process. 

Although, most days he’d seemed to be in a thought process of his own. Weird.

You cleared your throat, “How often does this even need to be done?”

He blinked, “Well, let’s see. Once every—“ he waved his hand around “—few hundred years. Very high maintenance, do not recommend it.”

High maintenance, yeah. At this point, Bill had taken to talking about some other topic, you hadn’t been really listening, something about intergalactic food joints.

Every once and a while he’d bring up something that happened with one of his ‘henchmaniacs’ before getting slightly irritated at the lack of presence in his life now, and changing the subject. 

Bill was interesting to study, you couldn’t lie. His eyelashes curled away from each other, like the mangled legs of a recently dead spider. His hands were very present when he talked, like most people of business. His body flicked side to side slightly at certain moments. 

You became more gentle naturally, taking care of every crevice, and for some reason Bill becomes gradually quieter.

“Something wrong?” You asked, not stopping.

Bill blinked, “Eh, been a minute since i’ve had a human servant. Maybe, I was thinking of other things you can help with!”

You sigh, “Yeah, because i’m your servant. As if.” In your mind, your thinking do the fact he was your roommate, in your house, eating your food. 

“Hey, don’t get all butt-hurt. You’re all ants to me, buddy, nothing to be ashamed of!” His eye flicked back and forth between you and the room.

Then you stop scrubbing, “Bill, I might as well be your landlord.” You know he can read your thoughts, so you make a point to justify yourself. Already weakened from his failed apocalypse, anything other than vague respect for you would land him homeless. Most likely, his response to this would be killing you, but there’s only so much he can do afterwards. 

He’d have a place to stay, but with no electricity or heating, and in his damaged physical form he actively does need those things. And trying to get a new human would be a hassle, and unlike you, no guarantee they’d let him stay there without calling the authorities.

“Yeesh,” Bill remarks, “Buzzkill… You are still a bug compared to me, though—“

You drop the sponge in the bucket, “I think you’re done.”

He looks taken aback when you pull away, “What? Come on, over the bug comment? Jeez, buddy—“

“No I mean you’re actually done,” you gesture to his body, now shining and slick with soap suds. “I got everything, there’s nothing else to do.”

You go to turn around before you feel a small hand grabbing for the back of your shirt. 

“Wait, wait!” He breathes, eye farting from side to side, “… You have to dry me off first.”

He looked slightly panicked, like if you stopped taking care of him now, you’d leave and never come back. Your thought process earlier couldn’t have helped. 

The way he scurried and gasped for you was reminiscent of panicked earwig and a rock is lifted up. The comparison should have grossed you out, but it kinda just made you feel a little bad.

If he was paying attention to your thoughts, he didn’t show it. This would have usually given you the impression he’d wanted you to be thinking the way you were, but he seemed a little wrapped up in his own head. 

“Come on, kid. Don’t tell me you’re gonna kick me out because I asked you to dry me off. One last thing and then you don’t even have to talk to me the rest of the night! Sounds like a good deal, right?” 

His slightly desperate looking sales pitch was met with a sigh, you picked up a dry towel and began to pat the soap suds off of him. His body slowly breathed in, making it look like he was sighing, but no noise came out.

You wondered then if he was actually touch-starved, but cut your thoughts there because this time he had nothing better to do then pay attention to what you were thinking. 

“Ouch, i’m not that desperate, pal.” But he was.

His exoskeleton was dry, but you didn’t stop patting him down. His eyelid shut slowly, and the spider-legs on them curled into each other once more. 

The exoskeleton of a bug was practical, but one of a triangle seemed to simply be for aesthetics. 

However, on some rare occasions, it possesses the same desire for love as human bodies. Only, when very desperate, of course. 

[dreaming-medium]

Watch Your Six

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Sensory Deprivation - Han Jisung

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Word Count: 14.8k

Summary: After training for years, you finally become a full fledged agent for KDOI, the Korean Division of Intelligence. Over time, each and every agent becomes something like a family member, including the high-tech nerd who has managed to put a smile on your face since day one. What happens when he's sent with you on his first field mission?

Warnings: Violence, smut (18+) MDNI

A/N: Kinktober is a state of mind. I know its January idc lol I will finish the list of prompts even if it kills me

---------------------------------------

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. 

The sound your sneakers make on the treadmill reverberates through the gym. The expensive, high tech plastic mask strapped to your face fogs up with each exhale and clears with each inhale. 

To your right, a man holds a clipboard, glasses covered eyes watching your vitals displayed on the monitor hooked up to the mask and other various wires clipped to your body. 

You’ve been running for about an hour straight, but your breathing is still even; and just by glancing down at the screen, your heart rate looks the same. 

For months, you’ve been training with the federal agency to be one of their field agents. Countless nights were spent pushing yourself to the limit, physically and mentally. 

Today was your final evaluation before becoming a full-fledged agent. You were selected out of the hundreds of trainees to test to move on. 

It was a great honor, all your hard work was finally paying off. 

Maybe you’ll get your first mission after this! 

If you pass. 

A small bead of sweat drops down the side of your face. 

Bored, your eyes wander over to the man studying your every heartbeat. 

The thick rimmed glasses that sat on his face have slid down his nose a bit. His lips seem to sit in a constant pout thanks to those pudgy cheeks of his. 

Choppy, fluffy brown hair sits on his head like a mop. You can tell he’s run his fingers through it more than a handful of times to get it out of his eyes. 

A crisp white lab coat rests over a hoodie and khaki pants. A few different pens and instruments sit in the pocket under an embroidered ‘J’ .

You’ve seen him around the trainees once or twice in the years you’ve been here. From what you’ve gathered, he was one of the technical experts, providing countless gadgets and gizmos for the field agents to use. 

The guy that would give the secret agent a lipstick taser before embarking on their world class espionage mission. 

He’s pretty and smart— what a lethal combination. 

When the man looks back up at the treadmill, your eyes flick back to dead ahead of you. 

Reaching forward, he hits the stop button on the treadmill and jots down a few notes on his clipboard, a tiny smile pulls at his handsome face. 

The treadmill comes to a gradual stop and so do your legs. One hour exactly sits on the clock. 

Nervously, you look down at the screens, to his monitor, looking at anything you can. 

“You did extremely well, 586.” There’s a happy tilt to his tone while he scribbles down some more notes, flipping the page, then writing some more. “You can take the mask off now.”

Nodding, you gently take the mask off your face and drape it over the top of the treadmill. 

“I have one more examination for you.” He clicks a few buttons on the computer to the side.

Patiently, you stand there waiting for instruction. 

He looks up at you with amusement glinting in his big, brown eyes. “You don’t need to be so stiff with me, 586, that’s not part of the tests.”

Your shoulders relax and sag forward a bit. “Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Understandable.” He grabs a hold of the cart with the machines on it and rolls it to the side. “Most, if not all, trainees are during their examination. I can’t remember a trainee that wasn’t nervous— well, maybe M, but he’s a special case.”

“Are you J?” you ask, looking down at his lab coat. 

“I am,” he answers and steps closer to the treadmill.

He reaches forward and unsnaps the wires hooked onto the leads on your chest. The sticker part stays on, but the wires are removed. Which means you’ll probably be hooked up to another machine soon. 

“I’ve seen you around before,” you say to him, studying his face up close. 

“I’m always around everywhere,” he jokes, unhooking more wires. “I don’t think there’s a square inch of this agency I haven’t seen.”

“Are you a field agent?”

He scoffs. “No, not me. I could never handle that.”

“But you’re an agent.”

He moves his head side to side. “Of sorts, yeah. B needed a tech guy, so technically I’m an agent. But if you were to send me on a mission, I might cry. I leave those sorts of things up to C or S, or any one of the other agents. Just not me.”

You nod with a small smile of your own. 

“Follow me.”

Following his orders, you step off the treadmill and follow after him out of the gym. 

“Is there only one of each letter?” you ask.

J laughs. “Actually, yeah.” He leads you towards a side room, it looks like an interrogation room with a large contraption on the center of the table. “It’s easier that way.”

He motions for you to take a seat across the table. 

“And unless you fail this psych evaluation, I believe we’re going to be back to 26 again.” J starts fiddling with the machine, pulling wires and leads off the top. 

A happy pang goes through your heart. Thank god he hasn’t hooked up the heart monitor yet, he would’ve seen it skyrocket. 

“You think?” Nervously, you shift around in the chair. 

J chuckles. “I do. I haven’t seen a perfect exam like this in a while. Plus, we saw all the extra training you were putting in.”

Your mouth opens a bit in shock. J looks over at you, holding the wires ready to snap to the leads on your chest. 

“We have eyes everywhere, 586. Did you really think we didn’t see that?”

An embarrassed flush crawls on your neck and turns your ears red. “Of course, I know that.” 

Again, he chuckles and snaps all the wires to the leads. His fingers are warm in contrast with the cold air of the exam room. Each time his knuckles brush against your skin the feeling lingers. 

He places a strap around your head that has two metal leads pressing into your forehead. Even more wires from that strap lead down to the detector. 

J looks down at the wires and then turns on the machine. It whirrs to life and a needle starts scribbling out your heart rate on the top. 

It’s a lie detector. Of sorts. It looks like more than that. 

You’re not going to pretend to understand anything, though. That’s his job. 

His eyes watch the needle, he then reaches forward and clips a small cuff on your finger— a steady beeping follows it. 

“There we go,” he mutters to himself and takes a seat across from you. 

J shuffles papers around on the clipboard to rearrange them. 

A large mirror sat on the wall behind him. There’s no way that’s not one way glass. Is there anyone on the other side watching your evaluation? Or is it just the two of you? Is there another higherup keeping track of your answers? Maybe it’s B? Or maybe other agents are spectating to see how you are. 

You would be working closely with them, after all. If the roles were reversed, you’re sure you would watch. 

“Ready?” J’s voice interrupts your thoughts. 

Your eyes snap to him and you nod. 

“Is your name Y/N L/N?” he asks, looking down at the clipboard. 

It’s been so long since you’ve heard your real name. Two years? Yeah, two years. You’ve only been referred to as 586 since you joined. 

“Yes.” 

J looks at the contraption for a few seconds, taking note of the way it moves. He makes a small tick on the paper. 

“Can you verify your date of birth for me?”

You do as he says, saying it like second nature. Again, he repeats the same motion of watching your heart rate and making a small tick. 

The questions start out simple. Where were you born? What are your parent’s names? Do you have any siblings? All questions that you would make a security question for your bank. 

“Now, let’s get to the real questions. Just answer honestly and you have nothing to worry about, okay, 586?” J’s voice is calm and smooth. 

Something about this guy makes you want to tell him everything regardless of if you’re hooked up to several machines. 

“Have you ever been contacted by an external government agency prior to enlisting in KDOI?”

KDOI: The Korean Division of Intelligence. Your dream job since you were a young girl. 

“No.”

After your answer, J watches your heart rate for even longer than before. He makes a tick on the clipboard. 

“Have you ever been contacted by an external government agency after enlisting in KDOI?”

“No.”

Another tick. 

“Have you ever participated in an organized event that openly opposed KDOI?”

“No.”

Tick. 

“Have you ever had malicious thoughts about KDOI or the agents working within it?”

“No, quite the opposite. I admire KDOI.” You add the last part with a sheepish smile. 

J grins when he makes the next tick on the paper. 

“Next section…” he murmurs. “Have you recently had thoughts of suicide?”

“No.”

Tick. 

Question after question comes from his mouth. You answer honestly to each of them, not even hesitating to let the reply leave your lips. 

“Did you have thoughts of suicide prior to enlisting in KDOI?”

“No.”

Tick. 

“Do you ever have thoughts of harming others?”

“No.”

Tick. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“N- what?” Your eyes widen and you stare at him incredulously. There’s no way that’s on the evaluation. 

J feigns ignorance and points down to the clipboard. In exaggerated movements, he motions down to it and shrugs, puffing air in his cheeks and just making a meal out of this fake performance. 

“I can’t believe it either but there it is. ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’” 

You tongue your cheek and smirk a bit. “No, J, I do not.”

J nods and scribbles down more than just a tick while looking at the heart monitor. “Interesting…” 

He makes a few last notes before his eyes widen and he looks up at you, pointing his pen in your direction. “No girlfriend either, right?”

You roll your eyes, “No, no girlfriend either.”

Isn’t this an official evaluation? For a government official secret organization that grants people a license to kill? 

He asked you if you were single immediately after asking if you’ve had thoughts of suicide. Is this guy for real?

You slow blink at him while he finishes up the form on his end. 

“Well!” he exclaims happily, hitting the clipboard on the metal table. You don’t even flinch. “I believe we’re all finished here.”

Your heart squeezes with nerves. 

J stands up from the table and rounds the table towards you. 

So badly you want to ask for the results of your exam. Are you in? Did you pass? Are you an agent?

“B needs to sign off on all the paperwork,” J trails off, his hands reaching forward to unhook all the wires from the leads stuck to your skin. “But… I don’t think there’s any issue with me welcoming you to the agency. Officially.”

Since the heart monitor was still hooked up, you can hear the needle suddenly spike and scribble large peaks on the paper. 

J turns his head to look at it. An amused smirk crosses his face and a chuckle huffs through his chest. “Funny,” he says to himself and then turns back to you. 

Sheepishly, you look away from him. 

“That’s what gets your heart rate to spike?” J sits on the corner of the table and folds his arms across his chest. 

You bite your cheek and avoid his eyes. “Well, this has been my dream job since I was a young girl; so, yes, you alluding to me becoming an official agent would raise my heart rate.”

J scoffs. His warm fingers suddenly grab your face, thumb on one cheek and his middle and pointer finger on the other. He turns your head to face him.

When your gaze snaps to his face, you see that there’s a cocky smirk on his face but his eyes are focused down on the heart monitor. The needle stays steady much to his obvious distaste. 

He sucks teeth in disbelief. “Really?”

“Is this another test?” your voice comes out muffled due to him holding your cheeks. 

J rolls his eyes with a frown. “Yeah, let’s go with that.” He releases your face and slides the strap off your head.

The leads on your chest are soon to come off after that. J is careful not to rip the sticky pads off your skin too fast so that it doesn’t sting. He rubs the site with a bit of rubbing alcohol afterwards to get rid of the residue. 

“How long have you been at the agency?” you ask. You’re curious about him. 

He defeats all the ‘Secret Agent’ stereotypes. He’s personable and warm— and a bit flirtatious. He’s not at all the cold, all-business type you were used to. That’s how more than half the trainees were. 

It’s not that you were cold, no. You just kept to yourself and worked hard. 

And you made sure your personality didn’t fade during that time either. 

J’s nose crinkles up while he thinks. His hands slow down in the process. “Hmm,” he hums. “Maybe four years now? Yeah, sounds about right.”

Your eyes widen. “Four years? How old are you?”

He smirks. “Don’t you know never to ask a young man his age.”

“I guess if you’re not going to tell me…” you trail off. “I’ll just say twenty eight then.”

“Twenty ei—!” he stammers and takes the last lead off your chest. “I’m twenty two!”

“Wasn’t so hard was it?”

J grumbles and turns around to finish putting the machine away. But there’s an amused tilt to the corner of his puffy lips and a playful glint in his eye. 

“So you started when you were eighteen?”

“Yep.”

“Child prodigy?”

“Taken right from high school.”

“Impressive.”

J laughs under his breath. “Everyone seems to think so.”

“You don’t?”

“Eh.” He shrugs. “Everyone here is a prodigy of some sort. It’s easy to blend in and somehow appear mediocre when surrounded by Korea’s most elite minds and bodies.”

“I don’t think you’re mediocre.”

“You haven’t met everyone else yet.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer again. J grabs your clipboard and takes the papers off it, handing them to you. 

“Bring these to B, he has to sign off on the final enlistment.” You take the stack from him. “The guard outside the door will bring you up to his office.”

You look down at the papers, your heart rate picking up faster and faster the more you think about it.

J puts his hand on your lower back and ushers you towards the door. It tingles at the base of your spine. He reaches in front of you and opens the door, motioning for you to exit first. The hand on your lower back twitches and it feels like he almost scratches it twice before urging you forward and dropping it. 

It’s weirdly comforting. 

It doesn’t feel weird at all. 

You turn back to look at him, “Thank you, J.”

He smiles. Those round cheeks get even bigger when it happens. 

“Welcome to KDOI, X .”

---------------------------------------

Two years goes by in the blink of an eye when working with a government agency. Especially when a majority of your assignments can take anywhere from a week to two months at a time. 

The agents you work with are the only constant in your life. Other faces flitter in and out of your life like leaves falling off trees. You don’t grow attached to anyone outside of this organization, you can’t afford to. 

You’re not complaining, not at all. You love the life you have now. It’s everything you ever wanted. 

Everyone at KDOI is a family, you’re all each other has. It’s an unspoken, special bond. 

When you first started, you were welcomed in with open arms. Obviously, some agents were warmer than others at first— or maybe it’s just that some were better at first impressions than others. 

Maybe other people would have been upset with M’s standoffishness when you first introduced yourself. But, after a hot coffee appeared on your desk not even five minutes after complaining about being cold to him and only him, you knew he wasn’t detached and icy at all. 

Other agents, like F, have been nothing but a ball of sunshine. He was the one you ate lunch with every single day while you were at the agency. Whilst sitting by yourself in the cafeteria on day one, he took it upon himself to plop himself in the seat right across from you. 

H is your favorite agent to go on long assignments with. He never fails to be a constant source of entertainment and intelligent conversation— with the occasional stupid ass comment that makes you question where the man you were just talking to went. 

Slowly but surely, you’ve also started learning their real names. Learning someone’s real name was apparently the equivalent of leaving you in their will around here. 

There was a time and place to refer to them as their real name. It was a line you tiptoed constantly. 

Surprisingly, it was M who told you his name first: Minho. It was completely unprompted too. It was in the jet returning from a three week mission where you had saved him from at least five different gunshot wounds by tackling him to the ground. 

The others trickled in afterwards. 

Y, or Jeongin, was shocked when you didn’t know his name. And immediately told you afterwards with a cute, wide smile on his face. 

Even though every single agent has become a part of you, one particular agent seems to have captured a larger part of your soul than the others. 

“J,” you say casually, slipping behind him to stand on the other side of his cluttered workbench. 

Jisung. He had told you his name when you had lingered in his workshop late one night, not wanting to go back to your dorm quite yet. 

“Hello, X,” he grins without looking up at you. The glasses on his nose have fallen forward.

His laptop is his primary focus, several wires are running from the computer to a tiny little gadget that looks no bigger than a cell phone. It has a small LED screen with different colored pixels bouncing around it. 

Jisung’s workshop was one of your favorite places in the agency. There was always music playing, a computer always had some sort of TV on silent with the subtitles on, and there were always snacks everywhere. 

You consider it a second dorm, really. As soon as you’re done training for the day, you usually find yourself here.

“When did you get back?” he asks, clicking a few keys and looking over at the gadget, then back to his computer. 

“Maybe two hours ago?”

“And it took you this long to come say hi?”

“I had to shower.”

“ And you didn’t invite me?” his cheeky smile gets bigger. 

You smack the back of his head, the glasses fall even more. You’re surprised they don’t tumble off his face.

If one thing has remained constant since your exam day, it’s the relentless flirting. The guy can’t go more than five minutes without saying some sort of teasing comment. 

It should bother you. 

But it doesn’t. 

At this point, you’ve gotten quite used to it. If he ever stopped, then you might be a bit concerned. You might even miss it. 

But you would never tell him that. 

Jisung makes a tiny ‘gah’ noise and rubs the back of his head in fake pain. He pushes his glasses up his nose and looks over at you. 

“I missed you so much and the first thing you do is hurt me,” he whines. 

“I wasn’t gone that long.”

“Two long months without my girlfriend.”

“ Not your girlfriend.”

He clutched his chest through his baggy black hoodie. “Another wound.”

You cross your arms and giggle a bit. “Well get used to me not being here. B is sending me on another assignment tomorrow.”

Jisung frowns. “I know, he asked me to be at your debrief tomorrow morning.” He lets out a whine. “You just got back! Usually you’re around for at least two weeks in between missions.”

Shrugging, you look around the room. The digital clock on the wall read 10:29 PM. He’s usually the only one in here past 5:30, he tends to lose track of time easily when working on projects. 

“It’s part of the job,” you say casually. 

Jisung grumbles again, looking down at his laptop once more. “Yeah, well it sucks. Everyone’s always coming and going. Meanwhile I’m stuck here all day every day.”

“I thought you didn’t do field work.”

“I don’t . I just also hate that I’m trapped here while everyone gets to travel with one another.”

You narrow your eyes. “You do know we’re not sightseeing, right?”

Jisung balks. “Of course I know that.” He pauses. “But I did see that picture that you and Changbin took at Buckingham Palace.”

You bite your lip to stop the smile. “Not my fault it just so happened to be by our hotel.”

“Bang said if we had a Christmas card he would use that picture.”

The smile you’re fighting gets even bigger. You hesitate before speaking up again. “It’s a good picture.”

Jisung’s head drops and he places both of his hands on the table. “See what I mean?” he groans. 

“Just tell Bang that you want field work.”

Jisung’s head shoots up and he stares at you with wide eyes. “I would die in the field!”

“You would not. One of us would be there to save your hide. You really think Minho would let you die?”

“I think he would load the gun himself.”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest. Uncrossing your arms, you turn around and lean against the table. 

“Ji, we would make sure you were safe if you were to come out in the field with us. It’s our job.”

“Your job is to carry out the mission.”

“I wouldn’t give a damn about the mission if your life was on the line.”

Jisung’s mouth snaps shut. His eyebrows fly up his forehead. 

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his knuckles turn white from gripping the counter so hard. 

His Adam’s Apple bobs with a gulp. 

You shouldn’t have said something like that, shouldn’t you? Your job is to carry out government missions. Personal feelings should never be put first, you know that. 

So why did you say that?

Fuck, you shouldn’t have said that. 

The shock on Jisung’s face quickly morphs into a cocky smirk. It’s a mask. You can see in his eyes he’s still a bit shocked. 

“I knew you were in love with me.”

Groaning, you roll your eyes and push off the table. “I’m going back to my dorm to sleep. Goodnight, J.”

Your hand slides to his lower back and you scratch twice over his lab coat and hoodie. 

Ever since your exam day, the two of you do this small gesture to each other all the time. It could be when he passes behind you in the cafe line or comes up behind you in the training room. It’s such a tiny, personal gesture. 

Sometimes on the coldest nights in the field, you’ll find yourself aching for that small touch.

“You’re so head over heels in love with me, X!” he calls after you, again, clutching at his heart and overacting like he’s swooning. 

“I’m leaving!”

“You just got here!” he whines. 

“Bye.”

“I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you walk away, X!”

“Night!” you repeat, letting the door shut after you. 

You walk down the hallway of the agency with a goofy smile on your face. 

“Idiot,” you mumble to yourself. 

---------------------------------------

B’s office was at the very top of the large building, the windows overlooked the entirety of Seoul. Everything inside the office exuded money and power. The wood of the bookshelves was black and sleek and always dust free. 

Inside the office was so large there was an entire sitting area with two sofas and two loveseats around a coffee table. 

There was always a bergamot candle burning on a side table there. 

It was just about 10 AM when you stepped inside. 

“Ah, X, thank you so much for coming in.” B stands up from his large desk chair to welcome you in. 

Bang Chan, the leader of KDOI, and the most unassuming man you’ve ever met. When you brought him your final exam paperwork that fateful day you thought you were in the wrong office. 

This whole time you were expecting a wrinkly old man, not a twenty-something with dimples. 

But, at this point, you’ve learned to not be surprised by anything anymore. 

Maybe you were surprised at the fact that the other man in the room made no move to even look at you. 

Jisung sat in the other chair in front of the desk, his face sheet white. Both of his hands are gripped in tight fists on top of his pants. 

Your warm smile fades from your face as you take in his ghastly expression. 

“What’s going on?” you ask. 

Chan’s lips form a tight line as he motions to the chair for you to sit in. “I was going over your next assignment with J before you got here.”

“Apologies, am I late?”

“No, not at all. I had J come in a little early to talk to him one on one.”

You glance over at Jisung who looks like he hasn’t even blinked. Alarm bells are going off inside your head. Not even a nod in your direction?

“What’s this assignment about, B?” You look back to your boss. 

He slides a manilla envelope across the desk to you, you take it without a second thought. Chan picks up a tiny remote off his desk and presses a button. Shades slowly come down over the window, bathing the room in darkness. Another beep on the remote and a holographic screen projects from the floor next to the desk. 

Both you and Chan turn your chairs to go over the debrief, Jisung stays still. Part of you wants to snap your fingers in front of his face to see if he’s still alive or not. 

Instead, you focus on your job. 

“I know you’re used to more recoup time, but I’m afraid this assignment is pretty urgent.” Chan clicks the remote. A grainy CCTV picture is displayed on the screen. “The international gang you’ve been dealing with lately, the Ice Crows, have shown their face again.”

Chan zooms in on the image. Several higher ups of the gang are getting out of a black SUV. They’re all dressed in fancy suits smoking cigars. 

The last time you dealt with them was about five months ago when their trail had gone cold over in Canada. 

“When and where was this taken?” you ask. 

“Yesterday. Paris. Where you and J will be headed after this.”

Your head snaps over to look at Chan. 

With Jisung? No wonder the guy looked like he was eight inches from death!

Your eyes slide to the engineer, he’s still staring forward. A cold sweat on his brow. 

“J is coming with me?”

Chan points your attention back to the debrief. “Allow me to continue.”

You spare one last look Jisung. The poor guy is shaking in his boots. Your hands itch to reach out and comfort him, but you have to remain professional. 

That’s for after the debrief. 

“There’s an auction being held at the Palais des Congrès. Several large and important pieces are being shown there. Including…” Bang switches the slides and displays an expensive painting. “The Refuge, which was stolen no more than two months ago by the Ice Crows. They’re putting it up for auction when it belongs back in Korea.”

Your eyes narrow. “This seems like a pretty rookie cut and dry assignment, B. You need me to get the painting back. I don’t understand why J has to come with me, he doesn’t do field work.”

The conversation the two of you had the previous night echoes in your mind. 

B nods. “I know. Let me get there, X.” He switches the slide to display the floor plan of the museum. “This convention center is rather high tech, as you can see. It’s equipped with blockers that don’t allow any outside waves to make it past their walls. Any and all technical communication has to come within the building.”

“So, you’re sending J with me because he’s the only one that can operate field equipment? S can operate simple transmitters and trackers.”

“It’s more than that, X. The painting will be behind several different firewalls and security systems that not even S can hack through. J needs to be with you and he needs to be in that building.”

You take a deep breath and look over at Jisung. His hundred yard stare has moved from the window and is now focused down on his lap. 

“He’ll be in your hotel room the entire time. You’ll be doing the recon and walking through the convention center to get where you need to be.”

Jisung pulls his lips between his teeth. His body finally came back to life. “I won’t need to leave the room?” His voice is hoarse. 

“No,” Chan answers quickly. “Not until you’re leaving to come back home.”

Jisung shifts on his chair, unfurling his fists and swallowing thickly. 

“I understand your apprehension, J, I do. But I need you on this.”

Jisung watches him closely and then offers a weak nod. He glanced over at you. 

“I wouldn’t put you with X unless I was sure that she would watch your six.”

You nod and steel your expression. “I won’t let anything happen to you, J.”

Color returns to J’s cheeks at your words. He gulps and takes a deep breath, his shoulders rolling back and remaining stiff.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Okay, I’ll do it.” He’s more confident the second time. 

“Good.” Chan clasps his hands together. “Stay safe, agents. Amusez vouis bien!”

---------------------------------------

You and Jisung were the only ones inside the cabin of the agency’s private jet. It took off the runway only about four minutes ago. 

The brunette sat across from you, his eyes focused out the window at the clouds below. His posture is anything but relaxed. He’s sitting ramrod straight in the large cushioned chair. 

You don’t think his muscles have released since you both were in Chan’s office. Even through the thick layers of his comfortable traveling clothes you can clearly read his uneasy body language. 

“You okay?” you ask gently.

“No,” he mutters back. Duh.

You bite the inside of your cheek, completely unsure of what to do or say. This was never a part of your training. Maybe you should’ve picked up a copy of ‘ Comforting Friends for Dummies ’ when you had the chance. 

Killing targets? Easy! 

Provide detailed surveillance on a suspicious person? Done! 

Soothe an anxious friend? Not so simple. 

Jisung’s cheeks seem even puffier than usual, lips pursed in a pout. There’s no sparkle to his eyes like you’re used to. 

Taking a deep breath, you lean back in your seat and look around the plane. You crack your knuckles, displaying your own nerves. 

“Do you know the best part of staying at hotels during missions?” you ask him to break the silence.

Jisung hums in acknowledgement, he continues to watch the clouds below. 

“You get to order all the room service you want— it comes out of the agency’s card.” You smirk. 

He shifts around in his seat. His hands that were tightly gripping the armrests relax a bit. 

“Last assignment I was on with Hyunjin, we were in a seaport town, the hotel made these bacon wrapped scallops… man… I ate so many I thought I was going to explode.” You pat your stomach. 

Jisung finally looks at you. “Bacon wrapped scallops?”

You nod and smile at him. “You’ll be in the room the entire time. Think of all the room service you’ll get to order.”

“I’ve never had bacon wrapped scallops.”

“It’s Paris, who knows what they’ll offer there. And it all goes on Bang’s card.”

Jisung finally smiles. It wavers for a second, like he’s sheepish to do it. It’s paired with a breathy chuckle. He looks down at his lap and lets his body fall forward a bit, elbows resting on his knees. 

His knee bounces anxiously and the exhales he lets out are shaky. 

“God, Y/N,” he sighs, rubbing his face. “I can’t help but freak out.”

“Understandable.”

“It’s my first time out in the field.” 

“I know.”

“What if something happens?”

You roll your eyes. “I would be more surprised if something didn’t happen, Jisung.”

His head shoots up. The color drains from his face. His pouty lips part a few times like he’s trying to find the right words to say. 

“But I’m prepared for it, Jisung.” You lean forward, mirroring his posture and take his hands between yours. “I’m prepared to take care of whatever pops up to keep you safe, okay?”

His jaw clenches and he stares deeply into his eyes. The hands in yours are so warm in stark contrast to your always-cold ones. 

“And if anything terrible happens then I’ll do whatever it takes to get you out of it. Trust in me, okay? I have to take care of KDOI’s resident nerd, after all.”

“Resident nerd…” he scoffs.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Did I ever tell you what happened on my first mission with Minho?”

Jisung shakes his head. 

“It was supposed to be easy! The intel that KDOI had gotten was that there was going to be a large drug exchange somewhere in the States, Minho was sent with me. And my lord, our intel was off.”

Thinking about the memory makes you giggle to this day. 

“It was an international, high profile cartel that Bang has been trying to nail down for years. Well, during a small scout, I got my ass captured. I wasn’t watching my six like I should’ve.”

Jisung’s eyes widen. Obviously, he wasn’t told about this. It’s not like you enjoy flaunting the story around. 

“I had a gun to the back of my head, the leader of the cartel was screaming for Minho to come out from where he was hiding or he’d kill me. God, I’ve never been so afraid in my life. My first assignment and I already had a gun to my skull.

“Minho, being the amazing agent he is, found the right vantage point and took the guy out. I was able to evade the crossfire after that, but honestly those bullets weren’t what scared me, it was the idea that Minho was disappointed in me.”

He was the agent you looked up to the most after all. He was the one that all these great stories and tales were all about. Minho was the harrowing hero of KDOI who was able to ace every mission handed to him. 

“But he didn’t even say anything about it. Even when I apologized over and over again, he just shrugged and said it was part of the job. And I get it now. It is just part of the job. So don’t worry, okay?”

Jisung swallows once, chin dipping down with a stiff nod. He turns his hands around in yours to grasp your fingers. 

A playful smirk creeps up on his face. “I can’t believe it…”

Your head cocks to the side and you watch him closely. He’s studying your manicured nails, his thumbs swipe over the digits softly. It’s a tender movement. 

“What?” you ask. 

“I can’t believe how in love with me you are.”

You rip your hands out of his and swat forward just as fast. 

With a barking laugh, he moves out of the way of your slap. You swing again and again, each time his laughter gets louder and louder. 

“First last night, now this? Are you going to propose to me next?”

You know this is just his way of evading thinking about how scared he is, but if that’s what it takes to make him feel better, you’ll allow it. If a distraction is what he needs, then you’ll give it to him. 

“Love hurts!” he cries out when you land a solid smack on his arm. “They were right!”

“It’s going to kill you, that’s what it’s going to do.”

---------------------------------------

By the time you and Jisung get to the convention center and check into the hotel it’s nearing seven at night. The gala isn’t being held until tomorrow, so you both have some time to relax and settle in. 

It leaves Jisung plenty of time to set up everything he needs inside your hotel room.

You both checked in without a hitch, getting your keys and practically falling into the room. Jet Lag is pulling your eyelids shut and weighing down on your chest like an elephant.

Flicking the lights on, you blink your bleary eyes a few times, staring down at the large bed sitting in the middle of your hotel room. 

One king sized bed.

You’d love to say this hasn’t happened before but you never know what to expect on missions. There have been places where there’s been one bed, two beds, bunk beds , and even separate bedrooms once or twice. 

On one occasion Hyunjin slept on the floor since you were only given one twin sized bed and you were not about to share that tiny space with the man who likes to spread out all of his limbs and hog the blanket at the same time.

So, at this point, you don’t even care if there’s only one bed.

You shrug it off and plop your bag next to the dresser and let your body fall back onto the plush mattress with an ‘oof!’

Jisung, on the other hand, hovers around the doorway, both hands still gripping the two rolling suitcases full of his equipment. “I can sleep on the pull out couch,” he says thickly.

“Ji, it’s fine, we can share a bed, we’re both adults here,” you tease him. “As long as you don’t put your cold feet on me, I don’t care.”

“I don’t have cold feet,” he grumbles and wheels his suitcases towards the small table on the other side of the room. 

You let your eyes slide shut on the bed. The gentle hum of the air conditioner already lulling your brain to sleep. With how exhausted you are, it wouldn’t take much for you to give into the pull anyway. 

Jisung opens up the suitcases and starts unloading every piece of technology that he has brought with him. Various wires and computer parts thud against the wood of the table. 

He stops for a second.

“And how would you know if I did have cold feet?”

A laugh is punched from your chest at the abrupt question. It’s a deep belly laugh. “Let’s just say there is a loose lipped agent among us.”

Jisung pauses. “Minho said he wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“He wasn’t going to until I started teasing him about his purchase of fuzzy socks.”

“You were with him when he bought those?”

“I helped him choose between two different pairs.” You crack one eye open to look at him. “The purple pair was my idea.”

Jisung groans and slides his laptop open, the typing on his keys is a lot more aggressive. You giggle again at his outward display of frustration.  

You let your eyes close again, listening to him shuffle his things around the wooden table muttering in between movements about how his feet aren’t that cold, they’re just colder than the rest of his body. 

An easy smile finds its way on your face and you listen to his quiet ramblings until sleep finally washes over your tired mind. 

---------------------------------------

“You were right,” Jisungs voice says in your earpiece. “Room service is fucking awesome.”

A waiter with a tray full of champagne flutes passes by, you grab one as he strides by your side. 

“I told you,” you say quietly while bringing the glass up to your lips to take a sip. “What did you order?”

“I think the better question is what didn’t I order.” His mouth sounds full when he answers you. 

He’s up on the 14th floor of the convention hall while you’re downstairs at the gala in a sleek, red silk dress. Your hair and makeup done exquisitely well, beautiful silver heels match the diamond jewelry adorning your skin. 

You blend right in to everyone around you. 

“I heard that their oysters are fantastic.”

“I think that’s part of what I ordered.” You can hear several dishes being pushed around. “Yep, right here. Although, they don’t look as appetizing as I thought.”

“They’re not really a lounge snack.”

“For rich people they are.”

The mission started about an hour ago when you made your way into the main event hall. The auction for the painting is going to begin in about another hour. 

Your first task of the night is to locate the painting before the auction and place a minuscule tracking device on it to locate later once it’s sold. 

There was only one way you knew to get close enough to The Refuge. 

“Oh. Three tables back to your 8 is your first target of the night, X.”

Paternino ‘Pink Panther’ Cardi. One of the Ice Crows inner circle members. He can’t resist swiping whatever paintings he can get his grimy fingers on; but, he also can’t resist bragging to an attractive woman. 

You turn nonchalantly to find him already eyeing you up with dark eyes. 

He’s your typical mafia member. In fact, if you had to draw a cartoon of a mobster, it would look like Paternino. 

You hold his searing eye contact while taking another sip from your champagne. The mobster lowers his chin and lets his tongue dart out to lick his lips. 

At first, seduction wasn’t a part of the job you particularly excelled at. But after doing it for so long, it comes naturally. 

Batting your lashes, you smirk at him and then turn to walk towards his table, your hips swaying in the process. Maybe you exaggerate your movements a bit, but it has the exact effect you need on Paternino. 

He’s sitting at a large round booth all by himself, legs spread wide in a show-of-power manner. A large swig of whiskey is taken out of his glass before you get to him. 

“Don’t you know that a beautiful woman such as yourself deserves a better drink than the venue provided champagne?” He motions to the booth seat next to him. 

You place your glass on the table and slide gracefully next to him. The effort you put into this is going to need to be quick, you don’t have long to locate the painting. 

“And I suppose a handsome man like yourself knows just what to order a woman like me?” Your voice is coy and seductively low. 

In your ear, you hear Jisung take a tiny, shaky breath. Does he know the intercom is still activated on his end?

Paternino slides towards you a bit more so now you can smell the expensive cologne wafting off him. It’s almost too overpowering. 

“A woman like you, hm?” He rests his arm on the booth behind your shoulders, lifting one hand to signal a waiter to come by. “Look into my eyes, let me see if I can guess your drink of choice.”

You rest your chin on top of your folded hands, your elbows resting on the table. His eye contact is intense and vivid, it makes your skin crawl. 

Paternino hums again. “A sapphire martini.”

“Nope,” Jisung says with a chuckle. 

You give a tiny, fake gasp. “How did you know?”

“I know a woman with taste when I see her.” He takes another swig of his whiskey while staring at you. “A sapphire martini for the lady.”

There must have been a waiter next to the table. You fight the urge to turn and look, instead opting to look at Paternino through your lashes. 

“Your turn, Beautiful. Why don’t you make an assumption about me?”

“I assume you’re an asshole with a tiny dick.”

Humming, you scoot even closer to Paternino, your fingers come up and walk up his chest to come around his tie. 

“I think,” you whisper lowly, coming closer to his own face, forcing your eyes to look down at his lips for a split second then back up at his eyes. “That you’re a powerful man around here, and that you don’t take no for an answer.”

His lips curl up in a cocky smirk. The arm that was previously on the booth, comes around your shoulders. His fingers feel clammy on your exposed skin. 

“Very observant, my lady. Anything else?”

The sound of a glass being delicately placed reaches your ears. You reach out and grab the martini glass without looking, bringing it closer to you.

“No, no, it’s your turn.”

He smiles. You’re so close to his face you can hear his exhales, smell the whiskey on his breath. 

You sip your own martini. God, it’s awful. You hate martinis. 

Paternino slides a finger underneath the spaghetti strap of your dress. “I think you would look gorgeous without this in the way.” He tugs on the strap. 

“Zero out of ten. Horrible pick up line. Try again.”

Jisung’s snarky words in your ear are oddly calming to your racing heart. He keeps bringing you down to Earth.

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about your clothes.” You tug his tie. “The auction doesn’t start for some time. How about you show me somewhere private we can go and we can see if both of us are right.”

“Uuuuggghhhhhhh…”  

“I like that idea, I know just the place, Beautiful.” Paternino slides out of the booth and holds out his hand, which you grab a hold of gingerly to stand up and be led away from the main gala floor. 

---------------------------------------

It takes five minutes for Paternino to lead you to the room where The Refuge is being stored. It only takes you ten seconds to knock him out cold with one solid hit to the back of the head. 

His body hits the ground like a sack of potatoes in the dark storage room. 

“Fucking finally,” Jisung groans in your ear. 

“Sorry, it was the only way I knew to get back here.”

“That was torture, X. I’m never doing this again.”

You roll your eyes and pick up Paternino’s ragdolling body under the arms, dragging him across the room and stuffing him inside a storage closet with his arms and legs tied together and duct tape over his mouth. 

“Now, which one is The Refuge?” you mutter looking around at all the art around the room. There’s sculptures, painting, glass blown pieces, everything you would see in a museum. 

“I wonder if The Refuge is the only stolen thing in here?” 

Sighing, you walk around the room, trying to recognize anything. “Probably not. But it’s the only one we know about.”

You find the painting eventually sitting at the very back of the room covered by a large sheet. When you walk up to it, you take your earring out of your ear and slide the back off— which is where you were keeping the tracker. 

You tuck the tracker in the back of the painting between the canvas in the wood. It wouldn’t slip out nor would anyone notice. 

“Perfect.”

“I can see it on the map still, you’re all good. Now get out of there.”

“Anyone coming on the cams?”

“No, you’re clear.”

You take your other earring out and throw it in the garbage can by the door. They were fake anyway and you don’t feel like looking like a freak with one in. 

---------------------------------------

When you returned to the event hall, people were taking their seats for the auction, so you followed suit. Grabbing another drink from the bar before you sat down. 

“Vodka tonic?”

“Always,” you say under your breath. 

You watch the bartender make your drink with close eyes. 

Now you just needed to wait until the auction was over to get the painting back. Your job was half over. 

Through the earpiece, you can hear knocks on Jisung’s hotel room door. 

“More room service?”

“I… I didn’t order anything.”

Alarm bells go off in your mind. “Don’t answer it.”

Jisung stays silent for a few moments. You’re no longer watching the bartender, you’re focusing intently on what you can hear in your ear. 

“J.” You state, trying to get an update from him. 

“I think they’re gone.”

Before you can even think about being relaxed there’s a loud bang on the other side of the intercom and Jisung shrieks from surprise. 

“X! X, they’re in the room! X!” His voice shouts into your ear. 

You’re already running out of the event hall, your dress hiked up in your hands.

“J, there’s a gun strapped to the bottom of the table, use it!”

You can hear gruff voices screaming at Jisung not to move, that they’d kill him if he even twitched a muscle. 

“X, there’s five of them.” He whispers quietly. 

“J, listen to me, stay calm, I’ll be there in five minutes.” You burst through the stairwell and start climbing two at a time, even in your heels. The elevator would’ve taken too long. “Do what you need to stay alive, fuck the assignment. Stay alive.”

“X.” It’s a whimper and it stabs you through the heart. The yelling gets louder and louder. 

Jisung begs for mercy. You can hear the desperation in his voice, it pushes your legs to move faster and faster up the stairs. 

“Si—“

The earpiece goes dead after a gunshot. 

Your knees wobble and you lose your momentum. 

Oh my god, no, fuck, please. 

Reaching out, you grab the railing to keep your balance on one of the landings. 

“J?” you scream. “J, can you hear me?”

Nothing. Not a single voice comes through. Not even static.

Maybe they just shot the equipment. That has to be it. They didn’t shoot him. They wouldn’t. Right?

You steel your nerves and launch yourself up the remaining steps. By the time you reach the 14th floor, you’re not even winded. 

The long hallway is colder than the stairwell. You take off sprinting towards your room, sharply rounding the few corners that you come across. Right before your own stretch of hallway, you slow down to a walk. It kills you but you have to do it. 

In the distance, right in front of your room, you see two large men in black suits standing guard. They take notice of you immediately. 

“What are you doing up here, ma’am?” One asks as you walk closer. 

“My room is up here, honey.” 

He looks to his partner and then back at you. “Turn around and walk the other way.”

“Why?” you ask, only about ten feet away. 

“Just do it, sweet cheeks.”

Your eyebrow cocks and before he can react, you walk up and throw a sharp right hook into his jaw. The bone in his face cracks and he stumbles down onto the ground. 

His partner yells in surprise and starts fumbling for his gun. When his hand raises to shoot you, you grab his arm and aim his weapon down so when he discharges it, it shoots right into his partner. 

Then, you pull his arm so he falls forward into you. You swing the heel of your palm upwards right into his nose. With your free hand, you reach down and grab the tiny pistol that was strapped to your thigh. 

Before the second goon could recover, you shoot him right in the head. 

The sound of gunshots obviously alerted the remaining three gang members in the room. Two of them come barreling out into the hallway with their weapons drawn. 

Immediately, you shoot the first one in the head, he hits the ground before he even knows what hit him. The other gang member yelps in shock before you shoot him too. 

Within two minutes there are four bodies in the hallway.

Carefully, you walk into your hotel room, keeping your back against the wall and your gun cocked.

“Shut the fuck up,” a gruff voice says roughly. 

Jisung said there were five of them. The fifth must be the one holding him hostage.

Quietly, you inch closer and closer to the corner of the wall. Once you turn around, he’ll be right in front of you. 

You gulp and take one deep breath before coming around the corner, gun pointed forward. 

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” That same deep voice calls out. 

Your heart drops. 

Another typical looking crook is pointing his gun at the closed wardrobe doors in the corner of the room. 

Where is Jisung? Where is he? Is he in the wardrobe? He has to be inside the wardrobe. 

“Why don’t you drop the gun, sweetie.” The mobster says darkly. 

You stay still with the gun pointed at him despite his words. The trigger seems to burn your finger. It's aching to be pulled. 

Is Jisung in the wardrobe? Is he in there and you can’t see him?

Or is this guy trying to pull a fast one on you to get you to drop your weapon? 

Fuck, is Jisung in the wardrobe?

“I said drop the fucking gun.” He moves to pull the hammer back of his own pistol and you don’t hesitate even for a second. 

You pull your own trigger. 

He drops to the ground with a bullet wound directly in his head. 

You sprint across the room and rip open the wardrobe doors. 

Empty. 

It’s empty. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you repeat under your breath frantically. You blink your eyes over and over again hoping that he would suddenly appear. 

You even go so far as to open and close the wardrobe door three more times, each time more frantic. 

“Fuck!”

Where the fuck is he if he’s not inside this room? 

The equipment on the table has a bullet hole through Jisung’s main laptop but no blood anywhere near it. But his glasses are. They’re lying on the floor with a crack through one of the lenses. 

Did they move him to another location? He doesn’t have a tracker on him like you do.

With a yell of anguish, you turn and kick the dead mobster at your feet. His limp body rolls over and his jacket pocket falls open. 

A hotel room key tucked inside the pocket catches your attention. You crouch down and pick it up.

‘1833’ is written on the back of the key.

It’s not a great lead, but your legs are running out of your hotel room before you even think twice. Obviously they moved him somewhere else to lead you into their trap and it didn’t work. Not with how well you were trained. 

You burst through the door leading to the 18th floor, heeled shoes sprinting down the hallway towards where room 1833 would be.

As soon as you’re in front of the door, you click the hammer back of your gun and hold it out in front of you, swiping the key in the handle with your free hand.

The lock clicks open and you push the handle down slowly, trying to cause the least amount of noise as possible. All of the lights are off inside of the hotel room, save for one lamp. The yellow glow radiates on the wall.

There’s no noise.

Everything is completely silent save for the quiet hum of the air conditioning pumping through the room.

Until you hear a sniffle, a huff, and then another sniffle. 

Inching across the floor, you slide your back against the wall like you did previously, listening for any more key sounds that would alert you that there are more people inside the room.

Taking one last deep breath, you round the corner and point your gun forward.

Even in the dark you know exactly what you’re seeing. 

In the middle of the room stood Han Jisung; his hands tied together with a rope coming from the ceiling, a blindfold around his eyes and earplugs shoved into his ears. From here you can see the wetness from his tears being absorbed by the blindfold. There’s a gag tied around his mouth muffling tiny sobs.

You don’t allow yourself to fall victim to false security, you look around the room closely, making sure no one else is lying in wait for you to fall into yet another trap. 

No other soul is inside this hotel room with you.

Dropping the gun onto the bed, you cross the room towards Jisung as quickly as possible.

He must sense another presence in front of him, his entire body stiffens and another louder sob is swallowed by the gag. He backs up away from you as much as his restraints allowed– which was next to nothing.

“Jisung,” you say in relief. “Oh god.”

Without thinking twice about it, you reach around and brush your hand on his lower back, scratching twice. 

Jisung’s chest heaves with another sob, even through the gag in his mouth, you can hear him whimper your name. His entire body relaxes and he falls towards you, the ties on his hands tugging even more. 

You reach up and yank the gag out of his mouth. 

“X,” he rasps with a dry tongue. “Oh my god please say it’s you. I-I can’t hear anything— fuck, Jesus. Thank god you’re alive, oh god.”

You scratch his lower back again, looking at the restraints. How the fuck were you going to untie that knot? 

Jisung’s tongue darts out to lick at his dry lips. His weight leans into you as much as he can. It must’ve been horrifying to be tied up like this, he couldn't hear or see or scream for help. 

Gingerly, you reach up and cup both of his cheeks so as not to startle him. Even with how gentle you were, he still jumps in shock. 

“Everything happened so fast,” he rambled. “They shot out the laptop so the communicator was fried. Next thing I knew I had a bag over my head and I was being tied up.”

Using your fingers, you push the blindfold up his face to rest around his forehead. 

Jisung’s big, brown eyes blink and squint a bit before focusing on you. He searches all over your face, taking in every detail as if you’re a glass of water and he’s been crawling through the desert. 

His eyebrows pinch together and he gulps. 

“God, I’m always glad to see you, but now I’m really glad.”

You laugh under your breath, the stress from just the last thirty minutes alone lifting off your shoulders. 

He’s okay. 

Jisung is okay. 

Using your hands, you wipe the tear tracks off his puffy cheeks. God, he must’ve been horrified. 

He’s probably never going to go out into the field again. You look up at the restraints, analyzing the knot closely. You’re going to have to cut him down, there’s no way you’re untying that. He’s secured to a pipe that runs across the entirety of the ceiling. 

“You know,” Jisung starts. His voice already has that teasing tilt to it. “If you wanted me tied up this badly, all you had to do was ask, baby.”

Your eyebrows twitches. Mr. Humor-Is-My-Coping-Mechanism decides to show his face now of all times, huh? 

Slowly, you look down from his restrained wrists to his dark eyes. A smirk is already plastered on his face, his lips still wet from licking them.

“You must want me so bad, hm?”

With your own crooked smile, you tongue your cheek and make a ‘huh’ noise, it puffs through your chest. That’s how he wants to be, huh?

He can stay tied up for a little longer then. It’s not like anyone’s coming into this room nor do you have anything to do until after the auction. 

Really, you have nothing but time to kill!

You take a step backwards away from him and cross your arms over your chest.

His eyes widen when you distance yourself from him. “Wh…” His cheeks puff a bit as his lips purse in confusion. Jisung tugs on the rope still around his wrists. 

You cock your head to the side and stare at him with one lifted brow. 

The bed behind you dips down under your weight as you sit down on the edge. It gives you a perfect vantage point to watch Jisung grow more and more confused as to why you’re not cutting him down yet. 

Slowly, his ears start turning red, the flush crawls across his face and down his neck, disappearing into his black hoodie. 

“X,” he says hoarsely. “Aren’t you going to cut me down?”

You shrug, knowing no matter what you say, he’s not going to hear you. If he wants to tease you, you can tease right back. 

The gun on the bed beside you is picked up in your hand. You nonchalantly click the safety on and toss it to the side again.

He tugs even harder, the ropes chafing his wrists a bit. You watch as JIsung’s Adam’s Apple bobs with a gulp. The blindfold is pushing his bangs up in wild directions.

The helpless look on his face shouldn’t be making your blood pump this way. Excitement shouldn’t be tingling at the base of your spine from the power trip you’re getting from this. This is only teasing between two best friends, nothing more. 

It’s just teasing, right?

Right?

You cross one leg over the other, leaning back on your hands. The plush blanket underneath your fingertips feels cool and soft. It’s a complete contrast to the way your skin is heating up under Jisung’s desperate gaze.

“Aren’t you going to…” he trails off. Several times his eyes flick from yours down to your exposed leg. When you had crossed them, due to the slit up your dress, the entirety of your leg was exposed to the cool hotel room air.

“Going to what?” you ask him, exaggerating the movements of your mouth for him to understand. 

Jisung gulps again while watching your lips. He squints his eyes closed and tries to take a steadying breath in through his nose, his chin tilts back a bit.

You allow your gaze to wander down his body a bit. He’s always in relaxed clothing, including now. An oversized black hoodie draped over his shoulders with gray sweatpants on his bottom half.

Gray sweatpants that you now notice seem a little… tight .

Oh.

It seems as though you’re not the only one whose thoughts seem to be a bit… derailed. 

When you look back up at Jisung, he’s staring at you with slightly glassy eyes and a heaving chest. Nervously, his tongue comes out to lick his drying lips again. 

A tight band of tension stretches between the two of you; you can practically feel it connecting your bodies together. The hair on the back of your neck stands up.

Is he thinking the same thing you are? Is he allowing his mind to wander the way that yours is?

Slowly, you uncross your legs and stand up from the edge of the bed. 

Big brown eyes flick down to watch the movement absentmindedly, his lips part and a shaky exhale leaves them. 

Your hips sway from side to side with each slow step you take towards Jisung. 

The eye contact he makes with you is sharp; his thoughts being conveyed through them. He wants you, and he wants you bad. It’s like he’s practically begging for it with those brown puppy dog eyes. 

And you’ll be damned because you want it just as bad. 

There’s only so much of his teasing that you can take. Only so much desire the dam within your heart can take before it bursts. And right now, with how high your adrenaline has spiked, nothing is stopping you.

The last two years of nonstop flirting is taking its toll on your self control.

Licking your own lips, you look up at Jisung, a shaky breath coming out afterwards.

Your fingers come up and grab the blindfold that’s still around his forehead and tug it back down over his eyes.

“ Fuck, ” Jisung murmurs. Your face is so close to his you can physically feel the words splay out onto your own lips. 

With the gentleness of a butterfly landing on a flower, you brush your lips against his. Jisung immediately brings his face closer to yours, smashing your mouths together even more. 

A sensation you can’t quite describe washes over you. It has the same level of completeness that you had felt when you became a full-fledged agent; like you just did something that the universe has been waiting for you to do.

His pouty lips start moving against yours faster and faster with more urgency, like he can’t get enough of you, like he’s experiencing the same emotions that you are. Were you the piece he always needed too?

Both of your hands begin to explore. You cup his cheek with one while the other grabs at the front of his hoodie. He’s leaning into you so much that the ropes holding his wrists squeak as they tighten and rub.

With a teasing smirk against his mouth, you take a tiny step back. This way he wasn’t able to reach your lips but could still feel the heat from your body in front of him. 

A tiny whine leaves his throat as soon as you pull away. You watch as his lips chase after you just to be stopped by the ropes.

“Y/N,” he whispers, pleading. You lightly tap his cheek twice.

Pulling the collar of his hoodie to the side, you let your mouth hover over his neck. 

Since he doesn’t have sight or hearing, all of his other senses are on high alert. Jisung feels your warm exhales so close to his skin and squirms around, little noises leaving the back of his throat. 

You tease him more and more by letting your deep breaths fan over his flushed skin but never actually letting your lips actually meet with his neck.

Jisung pulls and pulls on the restraints, each exhale driving him insane. 

When your lips finally meet his neck, a long mewl exits his own wet mouth. His head tilts to the side to give you more access. Greedily, you let your mouth explore his soft skin. 

His hips buck forward into yours, his hard length grinding into your hip to bring himself some relief. Jisung whines again at the sensation.

At the same time, you open your mouth and suck down where his shoulder meets his neck. His body tenses up and his head tilts back in pleasure.

“Jesus, fuck,” he curses, grinding into your hip once again. “Oh, god. Shit– please, fuck, Y/N.” His incoherent babbling only increases in pitch and frequency the more you run your tongue up and down his neck, never going lower than the collar of his hoodie would pull or higher than his jawline. 

You let your free hand travel up to thread in his soft, chocolate brown locks of hair. You scratch at his scalp a few times, letting your nails drag along his head. A low moan emanates deep within Jisung’s chest, it almost sounds like a purr. His head leans back into your touch. 

“Oh my god,” he murmurs. Every noise that comes out of his mouth is louder than you expect thanks to the earplugs. “Y/N, please– oh fuck , kiss me again, please, oh my god, please, Y/N.”

Pulling away from his neck, you capture his lips in the middle of his babbling. The rest of his words are swallowed by your own mouth. His tongue darts out from his mouth to lick at your lips and coax yours forward.

Your own moans slip between kisses, Jisung can feel the vibrations against his mouth and they drive him absolutely wild. His hands ball up into fists; he wants to touch you so bad. 

“Y/N,” he says your name in between kisses. “Please, c-cut me down.” Your kisses travel down to his jawline. “I want to– Fu-huh-huck! ” You bite down on his neck harshly, sucking a bright purple hickey underneath it. 

Jisung rolls his hips into yours. You can feel how absolutely rock hard his cock is through his sweats. 

“N-Need to touch you. Hah! I’m going insane, Y/N.”

Begs sound so good coming from his lips. 

You run your hands down his chest to tease at the hem of his hoodie before sliding them underneath the fabric and up his bare chest. The muscle that greets you underneath it is a pleasant surprise.

The hard lines of his abs and chest run along the pads of your fingertips. He flexes and tenses under your touch.

Jisung throws his head back with a groan, his weight shifts around on his feet. It feels so fucking good . Every single touch to his body is heaven sent. 

At the top of his chest, you curl your fingers and rake your nails down his skin.

The wail that tears from his throat makes your heart rate pick up ten fold. It sends a lightning bolt of pleasure through your body. 

“Oh my god, please do that again! ” Jisung begs, his mouth hanging open as he pants over and over again. It seems like he can’t catch his breath. 

Who were you to deny him?

With a featherlight touch, you let your fingers trail up, up, up his body. The closer you got to the top, the faster Jisung’s breathing picks up. 

Right before you curled your fingers again, you smash your lips together in another searing kiss. When you claw down his quickly reddening skin, his cry is swallowed up by your own mouth.

You don’t stop your fingers on their downward descent, you tease the waistband of his sweats, letting your fingers curl around the top of the band and touching the taut skin underneath.

“Ah, hah.” Jisung pants into your mouth. He leans forward and sucks on your bottom lip, pulling it back for it to snap against your teeth. “I want to touch you so bad, Y/N, please .”

“Be patient,” you say against his lips. He doesn’t hear it, but he feels it. A pathetic whine responds to your words. 

You kiss his lips a few more times before dropping down to your knees in front of him. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes out. “Oh god, oh my god.”

You grab his legs with both of your hands starting at the knees and run them up his thighs, taking your time on your ascent. 

“Fuck, fuck , this is really happening.” Jisung gulps. He pulls harder and harder on the ropes. 

When your hands reach the top of his thighs, you run one closer and palm his erection over the top of his sweats. A deep, guttural moan is Jisung’s only response. Even through his sweats you can feel how his cock twitches in your grasp.

His hips buck into your hand when you squeeze him. “F-Fuck, I– Oh god– This is really happening and I can’t even fucking see it .”

You smirk. Maybe you should show him a small bit of mercy. Just a small amount. 

Leaning forward, you kiss his cock over his sweatpants. Jisung gasps and twitches again.

You stand up quickly, coming nose to nose with him. Your hands come up to cup his cheeks, they’re so warm from his flushed face.

“Y-Y/N,” he gasps. You peck his lips, letting them linger on his while your hands come up to his ears to take the plugs out. “Y/N,” he repeats on your lips.

“Hi, Jisung,” you breathe against his mouth before kissing him again, letting the earplugs drop to the ground.

You don’t linger for too long, you kiss down his face, down his neck, and then you fall to your knees once more.

“Jesus, Y/N.” 

You don’t tease him too much this time, you grab the waistband of his pants and tug them down, his rock hard cock finally coming out. His tip is red and angry. God, how can a dick look so pretty? 

Just as quickly as you got his cock out of his pants, you wrap your hand around him, pumping your hand up and down slowly. 

“Ohhhh my goood,” Jisung mewls. His thighs tense up and flex each time you stroke up and down. “Fuck yeah, Y/N. God, your hands are so fucking soft.”

You tighten your grip and Jisung whines. 

“Yeah? Does that feel good, baby?”

His cock twitches in your hand at the nickname at the same time a tiny whine escapes his throat.

“Does it?”

“Y-Yes,” he answers shyly.

“Louder, Jisung.”

“Yes, it feels good!”

“Good boy.” Without warning, you lean forward and take the entirety of him inside your mouth.

You can feel his knees buckle and if it wasn’t for the restraints keeping him suspended from the ceiling, he probably would’ve fallen to the ground. 

“Oh, oh m-my, f-fuck, Y/N!”

You’re relentless. You bob your head back and forth on his dick, letting your tongue swirl around the tip when you come up just to go back down and swallow him completely. Jisung’s hands are balled into such tight fists that his knuckles are turning white.

So many different pitches of whines, moans, and groans fall so easily from his lips. Compliments come out in between each one. 

“So good,” he cries. “I can’t fucking– holy shit.”

In some part of your mind, you always knew he would be vocal during sex– but never this vocal. He hasn’t shut up once. Not that you’re complaining, quite the opposite really. You fucking love every single noise that he makes. Each one sends a shock down between your legs. 

Too often you’ve been with partners that conceal how you’re making them feel, but not anymore. Jisung is making sure you know exactly how well you’re doing. 

“Such a perfect mouth, oh god. So fucking warm.”

You let your hand travel up his hoodie again, his abs are clenching and releasing over and over again with how hard he’s panting, you can feel each one under your hands. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” he pants as your hand goes up. “Fucking hurt me, yeah, please, scratch me, Y/N.”

God, the way he’s talking to you is fucking sinful. It’s perfect .

You scratch down his chest just as harshly as you did twice previously. 

Again, Jisung lets out a wail, his hips bucking and fucking his cock down your throat. You gag around him but keep him down your throat regardless.

“I-I-I’m gunna, holy shit, Y/N, I’m g’na– g’na—”

Now, you can’t have that yet, can you?

Quickly, you pull off his cock, letting yourself take a gulp of air. 

Jisung cries out from his ruined orgasm. “No! Shit! Fuck! Why?”

You look around the room while he throws his mini temper tantrum. There’s a small kitchen off to the side of the suite. 

As if you have nothing better to do, you meander over to it, looking around. 

“Y/N?” Jisung asks, hearing you walk away.

“Hm?” you respond.

“W-Where did you go?”

“Still here, baby, why?”

He shifts around, pulling on the ropes. The red color on his ears is getting deeper and deeper. “Just um– Why did you leave?”

You giggle. “Looking for something.”

You open one of the drawers, close it, then open another until you find what you’re looking for. It glints and catches your eye in the third drawer you check. You pick up the knife that was inside the drawer.

You’re walking back in his direction with the knife in your hand.

“D-Did you find what you needed?”

“Yep.”

With frightening grace, you reach up and slice the ropes holding his wrists in the air.

He almost drops to the ground, but you grab a hold of him before he has a chance to fall into the carpet. 

Jisung wastes no time, he grabs at your waist with both of his hands. Through the silk fabric of your dress, you feel the heat of his touch. It scorches into your skin and you wish he would brand his very handprints there.

His lips are already on yours again, feverishly kissing you as if you would disappear if he stopped even for a moment. He takes one second to rip the blindfold off his eyes and then he’s back on your mouth.

The hands on your waist don’t stay there long. They run all along your figure, up in your hair, over your neck, grabbing your ass, gripping your hips, he’s everywhere. 

You back up a bit, pulling Jisung with you until the back of your legs are about to hit the bed. Quickly, you spin the two of you around, pushing his chest so that he falls back onto the bed. 

When Jisung finally blinks the confusion from his eyes, his breath catches in his throat at the sight of you at the foot of the bed. 

You’re looking at him like you’re about to devour his very soul. Your hair is frizzy and tousled, the straps of your dress falling off your shoulders, your lipstick smudged over your puffy, kiss swollen lips.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs. His fingers curl into the blanket.

You straddle his legs and crawl onto the bed, hiking the skirt of your dress up enough for Jisung to see the strong muscle of your thighs. 

“There’s no way I’m awake right now,” he whispers, hands grabbing at your bare legs and running them up to push your dress further up your body. “I must have been shot. I’m in Heaven right now.”

With a sultry chuckle, you cup his cheek and let your thumb swipe over his lips. “I’m real, baby.”

“Oh my god.”

You reach down and take a hold of his cock, pumping him up and down a few more times. Jisung moans and fights for his eyes to stay open, he can’t get enough of the sight of your hand wrapped around him.

With your other hand, you reach down and pull your panties to the side, revealing your dripping cunt. 

“Holy fuck, you’re so wet,” Jisung whines. His fingers run up your folds, collecting your wetness on his digits and bringing them up to his mouth. He moans around his own fingers at your taste, his eyes rolling back in his skull. “Please, I need to–”

You cut him off by squeezing his cock. “Next time. I need you now .”

“Yes, ma’am,” he squeaks out. 

As if he would ever complain.

You line his cock up with your entrance, Jisung grabs your hips with both of his hands, his thumbs pressing against the bone so hard. His breathing is getting faster and faster with each passing second.

Slowly, you sink down on his cock.

Both of you moan out in unison. The stretch feels fucking marvelous inside of you. Jisung’s eyes roll back in his head once more. 

His moans dissolve into silence as his mouth stretches open in an ‘O’. He throbs inside you right before you lift your hips just to drop them again. 

“Oh god,” you moan. “Jisung, you feel so fucking good.”

“Move, please ,” he begs and you bounce up and down again and again. Each time you drop down, it shoots pleasure down through your thighs and into your toes.

You grab his face and smash his lips with yours once more. His tongue immediately finds yours. 

Jisung’s hands wander from your hips all the way around your body to grip your ass while you ride him, his fingers dig into the flesh, kneading it with each bounce. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he murmurs into your mouth. “Pussy so fucking tight.”

“Just for you.”

“O-Oh, fuck yeah . Just like that, baby.”

Jisung pulls away from your lips to kiss down your neck the way you did to him earlier. He takes his hands off your ass to pull the straps of your dress down your arms for your breasts to fall out of the top.

“Shit, baby,” he whines before taking a nipple in his mouth.

Moaning, you pull his hair tighter, keeping his face buried in your chest– not that he seems to mind. His eyebrows pinch together, moans vibrating against your chest as he licks and sucks at your nipple.

His other hand comes up to pinch and pull at the other. Each tweak and flick of his tongue makes your walls clamp down on his cock.

“Your cock feels so good, Jisung,” you moan, clenching on him again. “Stretching me so good, so fucking big.”

He moans, sucking a hickey on the underside of one of your tits. 

The pitch of both of your moans begin to get higher and higher the closer you get to your peaks. Jisung’s heels dig into the carpet and he starts fucking up into you.

“Fuck!” you cry out, holding him tighter. His thrusts are so much wilder than your bounces were. Each one fucks right into your g-spot. “Ji– Jisung, oh god!”

“Yeah?” He pulls away from your chest and looks up at you with half lidded eyes. “Does that feel good? Am I making you feel good?”

“Yes, yes! Keep going, Ji!”

Every single thrust is driving you wild. Everything about him makes you feel crazy, everything down to the sweat beading on his forehead.

He reaches down and presses his thumb against your clit, making you cry out. He rubs circles in the same tempo as his thrusts. 

Closer and closer you approach your own climax, his touch feels too good.

Jisung looks down, watching where his cock disappears inside you over and over again. The very sight of it makes his mouth go dry. 

He groans and falls into your chest. 

“Say it for me, Y/N, say it,” he pants into your neck. “Say you’re close. I-I’m going to fucking bust, say you’re close, I need you to cum on my cock. Need it s-so bad.”

“I am, I am,” you repeat like a mantra. Your own pleasure is making you feel inside, his cock is abusing your walls just right, his thumb on your clit adding an extra level of insanity. 

You pull more at his hair.

Close, close, close. It’s all you can think of. Jisung is enveloping all of your senses. He’s everything in your mind and body and even your soul.

“Gunna cum!” you cry out. “Cumming, cu– cumming!”

With just three more thrusts, your walls clamp down on Jisung’s cock, triggering his own release.

“Jisung, fuck!”

He bites down on your neck, crying out and grabbing you tightly with his free hand. He clings onto you like he would die if he let go.

Hot, sticky cum drips over your walls, leaking out around his cock.

Both of you are panting heavily, unable to move and detangle yourselves from one another. 

Slowly, you release your death grip on his hair, letting your nails drag along his scalp like you did earlier. He hums against your neck, his hands finding your hips again, thumbs massaging you over your dress.

The gentleness of his touch makes you clench around him, your cunt still going through the aftershock of your orgasm.

“Jeeesus…” Jisung moans out, a bit overstimulated. You giggle and pull back to look down at your best friend. He looks up at you with a delighted smile across his face.

You giggle and continue to comb through his hair. 

His eyes fall closed happily and he leans into your touch.

This should feel awkward. You should be having some sort of ‘post-nut clarity’ where you freak out for sleeping with your best friend, but you’re not. 

Right here, right now, you feel safe and content. And your relationship with Jisung feels the same– if not better.

“I knew it,” he hums.

You cock your head to the side. “Knew what?”

“You’re obsessed with me.”

Laughing, you lean forward and press a long kiss to his lips. “Yeah.” You kiss him again. “Maybe I am.”

---------------------------------------

“So J was captured and tied up in another room in the convention center?” Chan asks.

You and Jisung had safely returned to Korea with The Refuge about two hours ago. And, per protocol, you both immediately went to Chan’s office for a debrief.

“Affirmative,” you answer. 

“And you got him back, obviously. No problems after that?”

“No, sir.”

Jisung shifts on his chair next to you.

“Uneventful beyond that one hiccup?”

You tongue your cheek. “Yes, sir.”

Chan eyes the two of you curiously from the other side of his desk. But, the mission was complete and everything was done. There was nothing he needed to be wary of. For now.

“Understood. I’ll read about the mission more in your reports. You’re both dismissed.”

The two of you are leaving Chan’s office with thinly veiled smirks on your faces. Just as you’re about to close the door behind you, he calls out.

“Might want to cover the hickeys next time!”

[sunderwight]

Thinking about a bingqiu Dreamling AU where Shen Yuan and Shang Qinghua are both bored deities, just sort of taking a brief sojourn through the mortal world to shoot the shit and see some interesting monster or other that Shen Yuan has heard about, when they come across a tea house and decide to take a break and do some people-watching instead.

Shen Yuan is well into something of a shut-in phase, which Shang Qinghua doesn't like, mostly because when Shen Yuan is in those phases he doesn't do particularly well either. Shen Yuan's a social butterfly, for however little he cares to actually acknowledge it about himself, and his critique of Shang Qinghua's literary masterpieces gets so much harsher when he's not getting enough enrichment.

So when they overhear one of the kitchen boys solemnly insisting that he is going to do everything in his power to never die, and Shen Yuan laments that the boy would probably regret such a wish if it came true, Shang Qinghua decides to bestow a rare bit of godly power onto this mortal and grant his wish.

He doesn't make him a god, of course, that wouldn't even be in his ability. At least, not without using up more time and effort than he's prepared to expend on this one random kid. But immortality on its own is not that difficult. The boy will still finish growing up, and will still be able to be harmed, to know hunger and pain and illness. It just won't ever kill him.

Shen Yuan sighs that it's a cruel thing to do to a mortal, especially one with such low odds of ever cultivating other skills to mitigate the potential torment of it all. But Shang Qinghua just shrugs and they place bets, that this boy will ask for the immortality to be revoked in a hundred years, or two hundred, or so on, or else he won't. Shen Qingqiu approaches the kitchen boy and flusters and bewilders him by telling him to meet him back here again in a hundred years time.

A hundred years later, the tea house is larger. The boy has grown to be a striking young man, who looks at Shen Yuan with wariness and something else, something almost like awe, as he asks what manner of creature he's made this bargain with. Shen Yuan assures him that he has no nefarious intentions, and instead asks Luo Binghe how the past century of his life has gone.

Horribly, at least at first. Binghe's mother had already died by the time they met, but afterwards he managed to earn enough money to travel to a nearby sect. Working in the tea house's kitchen was just a minor stopover along the way. Shen Yuan was wrong, it seems, about his odds of becoming a cultivator -- Luo Binghe earned entry as a disciple.

Yet, he had no success. The master who took him on was unaccountably cruel and mercurial, and Luo Binghe's attempts to cultivate failed. Looking back he sees now that there were many times when he should have died but didn't, but when it was all happening he just thought himself lucky. At least until an enemy sect attacked a cultivation conference, and he suffered mortal wounds that absolutely should have killed him (or anyone) but still didn't die. (No demon race or abyss in this AU, but there are still demonic and fantastical creatures.)

His cruel master, upon witnessing this, accused him of heretical practices and tried to kill him as well by flinging him off the edge of a gorge. The fall was terrible. Binghe lay at the bottom in a horrifying state, injured beyond reason and yet, still, he didn't die. Eventually his body recovered enough for him to drag himself out, and once he did the only thing on his mind was getting revenge. For the next several decades he managed to ingratiate himself to all manner of potential allies, forging alliances, accumulating blackmail, and convincing people that he had to be some powerful cultivator through his supernatural resilience, lack of visible aging, and a lot of bluffing. He got revenge on his old teacher, drove his first sect into ruin, and rose to prominence as a feared and respected leader of the cultivation world.

Shen Yuan listens with clear interest, asking plenty of questions and seemingly quite taken up with the story. At the conclusion, Luo Binghe admits that his actual cultivation is still mostly a matter of smoke and mirrors, and wonders if -- now that the hundred years have passed -- Shen Yuan means to strip his immortality from him.

Shen Yuan asks if Luo Binghe wants that. When Luo Binghe says no, he accepts the answer, and tells him to meet him back here again in another hundred years. Luo Binghe calls after him, but before he can ask anything more, Shen Yuan has disappeared again.

A hundred years later, Binghe arrives back at the tea house with an entourage befitting of an emperor. The tea house has also expanded. Luo Binghe orders a lavish feast from them, which everyone hastens to provide. He's spent the past several decades consolidating his power, forging alliances with key political players via several marriages, producing heirs, and crushing his enemies. As he brags about the state of his massive harem to Shen Yuan, the deity's eyes begin to glaze over. He doesn't seem impressed. He also doesn't seem to care much for the food, and eventually his attention is stolen away by a conversation at another table. The diners are discussing the exploits of a promising new poet and novelist. Try as he might, Luo Binghe fails to regain Shen Yuan's attention before the evening is done. Shen Yuan doesn't think it's a big deal -- after all, if Binghe is still riding on top of the world, he's probably not going to want his immortality gift revoked just yet!

Another hundred years go by. The tea house has returned to a more modest situation, the next time Shen Yuan sets foot in it. He waits an unusually long while for his guest to arrive, and when he does, he's almost stopped at the door by the tea house's servers. It's only when Shen Yuan bids them let him through that Luo Binghe is able to come to the table, almost collapsing against it and desperately falling onto the arrangement of snacks with obvious hunger.

Shen Yuan wonders if this, now, will be when the boy (no longer a boy) asks for the immortality to be revoked. Surprisingly, he finds himself resistant to the idea, even though it's also clear that the game has run too long. Maybe hundred year check-ins were too short? He doesn't like the implications of what's gone on, even if he's not really surprised about it either.

Between desperate mouthfuls of food, Luo Binghe explains that without mastering inedia, going hungry but never dying is a deeply unpleasant experience. Shen Yuan orders more food. Once Binghe has finally eaten his fill, he begins, haltingly, to explain his situation. His clothes are ragged, he is painfully thin, and his gaze is haunted.

Apparently, several of his wives conspired to assassinate him, despite his reputation as unkillable. Realizing that most poisons and such didn't kill him, but that he could still be incapacitated, they hatched a scheme to dose his food with a powerful sleeping agent, and then walled him up in a famous ancestral tomb. They went to great length to ensure that it was impossible to escape from. It took Binghe decades to do it anyway, digging away at the floors, and when he got out he found that his power base had collapsed. In-fighting and the incursion of his enemies had led to the deaths of all of his children, and what wives had survived had either fled or remarried. Not that he particularly wanted them back at that point, since the ones actually most loyal to him had also been killed early on after his own "death". His face marked him, to the eyes of his enemy, as a surviving descendant of himself. He was hunted down, chased across the continent and back again, until he managed to fall into enough obscurity that his pursuers abandoned the chase. Except that he has nothing, and any time he tries to regain something, he runs the risk of being hounded again. Those who might see some potential in him still remember the collapse of his recent "dynasty" and slam doors in his face, or else try and turn him over to those now in power in pursuit of a reward. Those who don't know that much see only a dirty beggar, and usually run him off on that basis instead.

Shen Yuan, almost hesitant, asks if Luo Binghe would like to have his immortality revoked.

Luo Binghe declines. How will he be able to take revenge on those who wronged him if he is dead? He has a hit list a mile long by now.

Which is definitely not the most noble of reasons to persist, but Shen Yuan finds himself reluctant to ask twice. Instead he orders more food, and then even reserves one of the traveler's rooms above the tea house for several days. By then the sky is turning grey, and Luo Binghe is losing his apparent battle with exhaustion. Shen Yuan presses the key into his hand, thinking it's probably not enough, but there are limits to how much gods are supposed to interfere and Shang Qinghua already stretched them to the breaking point with this entire scenario.

He leaves, not seeing the hand that reaches after him just before he is out of the door and gone.

Another hundred years pass. This time, Shen Yuan arrives to find Luo Binghe already waiting for him. He isn't surprised to see that Binghe's situation has visibly improved -- maybe he was keeping closer tabs on him, just a little bit, for this past while. If only to be sure he wouldn't have to warn the tea house workers to expect an unorthodox visitor again! But no, Binghe has been doing well enough for himself. No more harems or thrones, though. He dresses more like a well-off merchant now, deliberately posing as his own mortal descendant rather than as a great immortal cultivator. The food at the table looks far more delicious than usual too (Binghe commandeered the tea house's kitchen himself this time). As they chat, Shen Yuan is regaled with the exploits of Luo Binghe's travels and adventures, how even though he initially set out to claim revenge on those who overthrew him, by the time he was in a position to actually do so they had already died of the usual causes (time, illness, their own schemes backfiring, etc). Subsequently, only their children and grandchildren were left with the scraps of power they had obtained, and when one of those children employed Luo Binghe as a bodyguard, his initial plan to assassinate them eventually fell by the wayside. After all, the wrongdoings weren't actually theirs. From that point, Binghe was able to restore himself to a more comfortable life, joining his new employer on their travels until he had set aside enough earnings to take his leave before his youthful good-looks earned him suspicion. He then began investing in travel and trade, specifically cargo ships, because never spending too long in the same place or around the same people helped disguise his immortality. He had found that, at least for now, this served him better than playing the part of a cultivator. It also gave him time to try and actually repair his ruined cultivation base somewhat, and fighting pirates proved very diverting.

Binghe is midway through recounting his adventures with a gigantic sea monster, while Shen Yuan hangs on every word, when they're interrupted by the arrival of a brash young mistress, clearly wealthy and trained in cultivation. The young lady declares that there is a rumor that a fallen god and a demon meet in this tea house once a century, that they wield strange powers, etc etc, and she intends to interrogate them both with the assistance of her hired muscle and her own spiritual weapon, and discover the truth of the matter. Then she whips out, well, a whip!

Before Shen Yuan can deal with the matter, Luo Binghe is already on his feet, disarming the goons and breaking a few arms in the process. Shen Yuan is so distracted that he almost misses the whip aimed right for him, but before Binghe can catch the barbed weapon with his bare hand (wtf, Binghe, no) Shen Yuan deflects it with a wave of his fan, and then efficiently knocks the troublesome young lady unconscious. The hired muscle flees, Shen Yuan arranges for their assailant to be placed in a room upstairs until she regains consciousness, and he and Binghe resume their meal and conversation in relative peace.

Even though it's clear that Luo Binghe has not yet reached the end of his tolerance for life, Shen Yuan nevertheless finds himself strangely reluctant to part ways at the end of the night. Still, he does, because that's what is expected of him, gently denying Luo Binghe's suggestions that they find some other establishment to continue their conversation at. He also has to investigate these "rumors" that the young lady mentioned. It's probably nothing (Shang Qinghua has a loose tongue when he's drunk, and a lot of imaginative storytellers have frequented this tea house over the years) but he doesn't like being caught unawares like that. Heavenly politics are... complicated, it's best not to court unwanted attention in any capacity.

Another hundred years go by. This time, when they meet at the tea house, Luo Binghe asks Shen Yuan why he keeps it up. Why did he pick Binghe? What is he really after? When Shen Yuan fails to give any kind of clear answer, Luo Binghe shoots his shot and makes a (very obvious) move on him.

Shen Yuan, flustered, gets up and flees. Ignoring Luo Binghe's calls after him. It just doesn't make any sense! Why would Binghe do that?! He's a man who once had a harem of wives in the triple digits! Clearly he's not gay, so what was that all about? Was he just messing with him?! How dare he! Etc, etc.

Another century passes. Luo Binghe waits at the tea house, which has fallen onto hard times again. With the construction of some new roadways, travelers no longer pass through as often. Binghe listens, worried, to the proprietor's laments that this old place will probably not be around in another hundred years. He listens because he has no one else to speak to, because Shen Yuan has not shown up. Not that morning, not during the day, not come evening, and not now that it is closing time. Binghe nevertheless charms and bribes the proprietor to let him stay even after the place has shuttered.

It seems damning, of course. He pressed too hard and now his mysterious benefactor wants nothing more to do with him. Except, no, he refuses to accept that. He's still immortal. And he has gleaned enough of Shen Yuan's character by now that he thinks that even if he was rejected, he would be let down more clearly and gently than this. The more he thinks about it, the less willing Luo Binghe is to believe that he has been deliberately stood up (also, since the tenor of his confession was different from Hob Gadling's, he never delivered an ultimatum about what it might imply when they met up again).

Over the centuries, Luo Binghe has built up a few contacts with similarly strange and supernatural stories. Cultivators, sure, but also others, fortune tellers and people of strange ancestry, questionable abilities, those who have interacted with powerful beings of mysterious provenance. He makes his way to a certain gambling den, frequented often by such people, and while he flashes around enough money to draw curiosity, he collects information. Shen Yuan wasn't the only person who started paying more attention to the kinds of rumors surrounding the two of them after their confrontation with the young cultivator a couple centuries ago. And in fact, Luo Binghe has been spending many, many years trying to find out more about his mystery man. Though, too many potential deities and immortals fit his description for him to have ever conclusively figured much out.

This is how Binghe gets wind of a rumor that an eccentric occultist has somehow captured a god in his basement...

[beardedalcoholic]

Memories of a Soul

Galgac couldn’t believe his luck.

He cursed the circumstances but promised himself he would make the most of it. For a space faring species like himself this was possibly a once in a lifetime opportunity for not only himself but his race and the galactic community as a whole.

A human was dying, an actual human! The tiny gods that ascended to the stars upon pillars of flame and madness, the seemingly unstoppable tide of warriors risen from their garden world of death.

Over a hundred cycles had passed since they took to the galactic scene and in that time, they had started as many wars as they had stopped and brought a level of culture unseen beforehand.

Wars between worlds that had been raging beyond the memory of those involved had been quelled by their words and ideas, while oppressive regimes and entire governments had been toppled from their previously unreachable heights.

With a standard lifespan many times that of their space sailing counterparts it was not unheard of for a human to be entrusted with knowledge, items, messages or words of wisdom for later generations. 

Added onto this seemingly impossible life span it was well known that humans simply did not accept death. Injuries that would kill many other species were more of an inconvenience to the humans, some looked at the loss of limbs and organs as a challenge to come back from and try again while others used their story as a way to teach and warn future generations of miniature titans. 

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For a species known for being able to dive deep into the psyche of practically any and all species, humans were like forbidden treasure troves of knowledge and wisdom: firsthand experience of historical events, important conversations, debated actions of who did what? and why?

All of this information and more could usually be found in the mind of a human…of course there was only the small matter of GETTING the information.

Human minds were said to be nigh impenetrable to all but the cleverest of infiltrators and even then, it was said once you got in there was no telling what you would, or could find. Human mental defenses were said to range from endless labyrinths that constantly changed their configuration to impossible creatures from the humans’ imagination.

To be invited to meet a human was a great honor, to meet one dying of old age was thought among some to be impossible as many species still believed them immortal. To not only be allowed to enter the human’s mind, but to be invited to do so was almost too incredible to believe.

“You’re Galtakal’s kid aren’t you?” The raspy voice from the bed snapped Galgac out of his mental musings.

Following the voice to its source on the hospital bed Galgac focused on the human, thin hair the color of silver, skin wrinkled and spotted with age unheard of among most species, muscles that at one time could bend Taraxian steel and break Fomotian carapace lay withered and atrophied as mere shadows of their former glory. 

Lines creased the human’s face telling of cycles beyond measure spent smiling and laughing…as well as snarling and frowning…the stories this human’s physical self could tell alone were staggering. The eyes though were what nearly stole Galgac’s breath…blue like a clear warmth cycle with not a cloud in sight, yet still sharp as a mono-molecular blade…age may have robbed this human of his physical might, but even time could not seem to dull the mind of this once legendary creature.

“Y-yes, um yes sir, Galtakal was my sire…how could you know that…sir?” The human laughed quietly to himself before he answered.

“The bio-luminescent spots on your face, they are almost exactly like your fathers’ spots…you carry yourself the same as well…arrogance like none other, well deserved and justifiable no doubt, but still I want to punch you in the face just like the first time I met your father. I miss him you know, he deserved a better death than what he got…self-sacrificing prick left you a message by the way, I imagine you will find it at some point.” Galgac was speechless…this human had known his sire, it sounded like they knew each other personally even. 

Walking forward Galgac reached out to the human and laid his webbed digits within the human’s grip, barely restrained strength still coursing through the powerful muscles and bones even in his advanced age. With a feeling not unlike having his brain liquified and then vacuumed through a long tube Galgac slid his awareness down his arm and into the human before him. 

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Galgac found himself on a battlefield on a planet he had never been to, human atmospheric air fighters...jets they called them...screamed overhead with the battle cries of war maddened harbingers of an apocalypse.

Bullets split the air with sonic booms and whizzed like furious insects while lasers and bolts of superheated plasma melted armor...bombs went off far away, no...closer...to close!

Galgac found himself picked up by an ethereal giant and slammed down on his back, surely such an impact just broke his entire back plate and probably a few organs were going to be bleeding...no, he was getting back up...how was he getting back u-

*OOF!*

Suddenly a body slammed into him just before a searing line of plasma wrent the air where his head had been seconds before. 

Looking towards the figure that had just slammed him back into the ground, and saved his life in no uncertain terms, Galgac was shocked…

“Father?” The face looking at him was much younger, but it was unmistakably the face of his sire. 

“Are you injured human? Can you still fight?” Galgac nearly lost the connection to the humans’ mind with the flood of emotions that came with that question. 

A figure blocked the unknown planet’s sun, a long blade raised to strike the both of them in a single blow. With unfamiliar muscles and reactions that superseded conscious thought Galgac wrapped his father with arms that felt as though they could crush the seemingly fragile body within their grasp to a pulp and rolled to the side until he was looking down upon his father from a reversed position of their previous one. 

Adrenalin surged, muscles tensed, nerves fired like atomic engines and Galgac felt his new and unfamiliar body sing with a power he had never known...he wanted to run, he wanted to mate, he wanted to fight, oh how he wanted to fight, to strike down the enemy and scream his power to the skies of this alien world in defiance of all attempts to defeat him.

Surging to his feet and drawing the combat vibra-blade from his shoulder sheath Galgac spun to engage the enemy, only for the visage of the human from the hospital bed to appear, grab him by the throat and lift him up and out of his new body. 

“Sorry about that, Galtakal told me that might happen but I didn’t really think about it until a few seconds ago...I guess the thoughts of your father got me thinking about the first time we met. He saved my life you know, I saved his in return a few seconds later but that was irrelevant…”

Galgac tried to focus on what was his and what was memory, the feeling of being human for just those few seconds was intoxicating.

The power contained in the limbs, seeing the world in spectrums of color and depth so vastly different than his own, senses all on fire from the bloodlust of battle sending him so much information about his surroundings. He was amazed the humans could possibly process it all...and there, in front of him he saw the human whose mind he was now intruding upon, watching his past self and Galgac’s sire fight side by side.

Like two dancers they spun around each other...no... the human ducked and wove like a zephyr of cutting wind around his sire, slicing with his blade and drawing blood with every strike while his sire would spin in place from one target to the next, expertly placing blaster rounds through vital points. 

Seeing his sire like this was...jarring to say the least, for so long he had known him as a peace loving and quiet individual. Seeing one of his progenitors as a whirling dervish of war and death seemingly moving in time with a human was...well he would have to explore those thoughts later, for now he had years of memories to view. 

“Come on lad, let me show you around a bit.” Hearing the voice of the human whose mind he was intruding upon just before a powerful hand fell upon his shoulder gave him just enough time to brace himself. The world around them seemed to blur and melt into a confusing wash of colors before seeming to solidify into a new scene, thankfully less chaotic. 

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Looking around, Galgac realized he was on a ship...by the markings upon the bulkheads it was... yes, the UGF Predatory Might, the first ship designed by humans and built by the Unified Galactic Federation.

Seeing the human begin walking down the hall Galgac followed him and did his best to pay attention to everything at once, this was a ship not often seen by non-humans and even then, it was only really sent for one of two reasons...War and Relief.

This ship alone contained enough armaments to send most smaller celestial bodies spinning into a star while also boasting one of the most advanced medical facilities in the known universe. Walking along the hallways of the ship Galgac could only marvel at what he saw, humans walking to and fro with some running and dodging around their counterparts with grace unseen in most species and others casually reading various reports and updates on tablets while simultaneously avoiding collision with those around them. 

“Ya know I never did figure out how they did that...just dodge around everyone without looking up from reading and still be able to comprehend what they were looking at.” Spinning to look at the human, Galgac felt his luminescent markings begin to glow brighter...this human was not JUST a human as he had been led to believe...this was…

“B-b-battle Master Alventar…” This was one of the most highly decorated humans in recent history, he had personally led more successful war efforts than any other human on record and who had planned an almost incalculable amount of side missions, some of which wouldn’t be released for at least a century AFTER his death. 

“Yes yes...that was one of my titles, did they not tell you who I used to be? Ah well, no matter, come let me show you why we are here.” With an easy smile and almost eager stride the Battle Master continued on down the hall. Following quickly Galgac whipped his head around enough that if he was in a physical body his neck would be getting sore. “Here it is lad…” Battle Master Alventar said ahead of him as he slid through a door and then looked through a window, his voice was oddly low and almost reverently anticipatory. Catching up to the human Galgac gazed at him and noted the strange look upon his face.

A small smile graced the human’s face, coupled with the simple light of joy in his eyes seemed to shed decades from his visage.

Seeing him pressed up against the glass like a child caused Galgac to gaze in slight wonder...this human was one of the most brilliant battle minds of the known galaxy, he had seen more battle than most battalions and had been in command longer than Galgac had been alive, what could possibly be beyond that glass to make him act this way?

Turning from the Battle Master, Galgac gazed through the glass and was slightly taken aback...he actually had to do a double take to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, one of the figures within the room was a much younger version of the human standing next to him. 

Standing within the room was a mid-thirties Alventar standing next to a rather large woman, her stomach vastly bloated out, disproportionate to what the rest of her body would suggest would be normal. She should have looked like a slim, mocha skinned, dark-haired goddess of a woman but instead she was a rather large, round, goddess of a woman. Skin flushed with exertion and gleaming with sweat the young woman’s face was screwed tight with pain, breaths coming in short pants and gasps.

“What um...what am I looking at Battle Master...why are we here?” Galgac asked softly. 

“This is one of the most momentous days of my life… I tell you now lad, I have seen stars collapse and die, I have seen battlefields strewn with bodies uncounted and I have witnessed entire planets and civilizations reduced to dust but right here...this moment...this is when I witnessed the greatest miracle to grace this universe…the act of bringing LIFE into the world…” The look on the Battle Master’s face was one of tearful joy beyond anything Galgac could relate to. 

Feeling the psychic resonance between them Galgac was soon swept up in a wash of golden joy beyond anything he could have ever conceived. The feeling that flooded his entire mental being was enough to bring him to tears at the simple and expansive joy of it, vitality and warmth flooded down his limbs and seemed to invigorate his muscles and nerves until they were singing like a solar storm. 

“She’s here...my Star Queen…” The Battle Master spoke in a low voice usually reserved for quiet temples and altars. With a voice like he was invoking an ancient goddess’s name the Battle Master pressed himself harder against the glass and continued to speak.

“She was always the best thing I had ever done, my greatest accomplishment and most beautiful achievement…” Galgac reluctantly shook himself of the golden feelings and gazed within the room, there laying on the bed was the dark-haired woman holding a small bundle of blankets to her chest. 

Looking closer Galgac could see the small figure of a human baby swaddled in the blanket, it seemed to be rather upset at its current situation as it was apparently crying.

“I am afraid I do not understand...it is merely a child, there are many of them and they all seem to look like that when they are born…” In later years Galgac would learn how close he came to getting a royal ass whooping right then and that the look on the Battle Master’s face was not one of deep confusion but rather murderous incredulity.

“I have left entire continents barren and choked with death, I have orchestrated missions that toppled governments and overthrew tyrants across more star systems than I can remember but right there, in that room is the first woman to see me for more than the battle scars and nightmares. In her arms is the first time I have ever been associated with life...she is my greatest achievement because she is the result of a true partnership, a battle pair, life mates and soul bonds. That little girl in there has the beauty, strength, mind and absolute power of her mother….and I guess my eyes along with some other stuff…”

Looking into the room once more Glagac observed the interactions of the mother and child, how when the Battle Master was introduced he seemed to show a level of care and gentleness not usually seen in his species of near immortal battle fanatics. 

Watching the three of them, two elders and a newborn, Galgac saw how they instinctively covered the babe with their bodies from threats unknown, how they both glared at any medical professional that dared approach them even if for no more than a heartbeat. 

These were new parents and they would scorch all of creation if it meant their child was safe. The Golden sense of unparalleled joy was soon suffusing him as he opened himself to the psychic resonance again, except this time it was tempered and sheathed in a layer of Steel resolve. Galgac found himself almost overwhelmed at the sheer power behind these two humans’ determination that nothing would harm the child they brought into this world. 

The feeling of a hand landing solidly upon his shoulder caused Galgac to jump slightly. Whipping his head to the side he saw the Battle Master looking at him with an expression of profound sadness somehow mixed with un-ending joy. 

“Time to go lad...There is no way for me to ever repay you for this gift. You have allowed me to witness the birth of my firstborn once more, the birth of the Brightest Star in my Skies and it is something I never thought I would ever be able to experience again outside of my hazy memories.” Turning away from Galgac the Battle Master made his way to the infirmary door that opened onto a completely different world. 

“Well? You wanted to see my memories right?” Shaking himself of the lingering golden affects that the birth of his daughter caused, Galgac hurried to the new door and the memory that lay beyond.

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Walking out of another memory Galgac was giving a new definition to the term disoriented, his head was spinning from the sheer amount of LIFE this single human had experienced. In the last few heartbeats Galgac had experienced events and conversations that could topple at least two governments and probably allow him to black mail an entire planet and that was before the sheer amount of training and battle this man had seen.

“I...I had no idea…” Words did not easily surface in the hurricane of his mind after seeing what he had just witnessed. 

“I know right? Who would have thought your old man was such a badass! I still have no idea where he got a donkey, a ladder, three cases of genuine earth tequila and five pounds of C-4...but that had to be the best bachelor party Calament IV has ever seen.” Finishing this statement with a hearty laugh and missing Galgac’s response that he could have told the man how much of a badass his dad was, the two of them looked around at their newest setting.

Cheers and applause assaulted Galgac’s auditory receptors like a rogue wave upon a beach. Lights flashed and a sun much harsher than his world’s own glared at him from above. A gentle breeze was the only respite Galgac received from the sudden change in settings, this was one of the things he hated the most about going through another being’s memories: having to experience their life through what they remembered. The day could have been ten degrees cooler and the wind even stronger but if the human didn't remember it that way then Galgac sure wasn’t going to experience it that way. 

“Ughh...I was really hoping to never have to relive this day, I guess it makes sense to go from some of the best days of my life to one of the worst…still sucks though.” Galgac looked to his side after he acclimated to the harsh environment and was shocked once more. 

Standing beside him was the Battle Master, but much diminished from his previous gravitas.

Mid to late twenties at best, he almost looked like a child playing dress up. Fresh faced and with coal black hair he stood there in his dress uniform, creases on his pants crisp enough to slice fruit, shirt fitted perfectly and starched to within an inch of its life. He looked every inch the perfect young military tactician...except the eyes. The usually deep pools of light blue were now frozen over and shallow, the sight sent a shiver down Galgac’s short spine. 

“This was the day...the day I received the most painful reminder of my actions, the day that started my worst nightmares.” In a moment of dissonance he had not experienced before Galgac watched as the Battle Master seemed to step out of himself.

With one vision walking forward to the call of his name and the other standing there as solid as a Column of Reality Galgac watched as the Head of the United Galactic Federation gave a short speech and proceeded to pin a shining medal to the Battle Master’s chest. 

“Yes...a medal and speech about peace after one of the greatest instances of near xenocide in my species history. I was to be lauded and seen as a hero of war after making the final decision to nearly annihilate an entire race.”

The only warning Galgac had that something was going to change was the cold feeling of despair sliding through his veins like mercury right before the sunny day and gentle breeze blurred, running like water colors before Galgac’s eyes until he was standing upon the command deck of the UGF Last Resort, the most powerful warship in history. 

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“I ask you again Emperor, surrender for the sake of your future, for the sake of your planet and people!”

Captain Alventar pleaded across the vid screen to the enemy ruler. Pouring every ounce of desperation and desire for a peaceful outcome he could into his voice the captain leant over his console. Around him were men and women years into their fields of study and profession and all of them remained still over their stations as they awaited the final word from their Commanding Officer. The air was thick with tension and not a single member of the bridge crew dared even breathe too loudly as they awaited the reply from the Alanshel Emperor. 

“We will never surrender human.” The voice came over the translator in a vile hiss of contempt.

“The Alanshel empire will take our rightful place as rulers of this galaxy and we will subjugate all those that resist us!” It was only by the feeling of frustrated embers squirming across his skin like writhing eels that told Galgac what Captain Alventar was truly thinking, even more so when the embers cooled and became like shards of metal slowly sinking down to drive themselves into his very bones.

“I was afraid you would say that...Just remember that you brought this upon yourself...and may your Gods visit mercy upon your decision, for we will show none.” Galgac watched as the young captain stood up from his command console and seemed to simultaneously collapse and grow in presence. 

Squaring his shoulders and straightening his spine with a sharp inhale the Battle Master stood there with his eyes closed as if steeling himself. With smooth, almost dreamlike movements the newly born Battle Master reached forward and flipped the cover off a deceptively small but violently red button. 

“Let the record show all attempts were made to reach a peaceful solution...and all attempts failed...By the power and responsibility invested in my position as Captain of the UGF Last Resort and Leader of the Battle Fleet Armada, I am hereby calling a fleet wide orbital bombardment...all ships fire at will.”

That was all it took, pressing a small red button and the world seemed to turn in on itself for Galgac. The entire ship rocked and shuddered as its most powerful munitions were unleashed upon the world below. Across the view screens similar scenes played out from different angles...battle cruisers and warships ejecting massive payloads of death upon the planet below them. 

Galgac watched in awe as the planet lit up like small suns were suddenly birthed upon its surface. Looking around the Control Center he noticed almost everyone had either looked away or closed their eyes not wanting to witness the destruction being wrought beneath them...but not the Captain, not the Battle Master. 

Standing there in front of the poly-carbide windows of the Control Center the Captain stood with his arms clasped behind his back, shoulders rigid and legs straight...he would not watch what he had done on a screen when he could witness it firsthand. Galgac approached the Captain, the young Battle Master, and was shocked at what he saw...tears.

Tears were streaming silently down the Captain’s face as he looked down on the world he had just condemned to fire. His breathing was slow and steady, face seemingly carved in stone, shoulders and back locked in place as if he would defy the very laws of the universe to bend him from his stance. Yet his collar began to show signs of the tears soaking it and small plops rang like bells in the near silence as they fell to the floor. 

It was in that moment Galgac felt he began to understand, the decision to burn the world below him had elevated The Captain to his position of Battle Master and in doing so had carved irreparable scars into his soul. With every tear that fell from the Battle Master’s eye, with every new blast that lit up the world beneath them Galgac felt a new wound upon his very soul, a new scar freshly made. 

“Two billion, seven hundred and forty-three million dead in the first ten minutes of the barrage...by the calculations.” The voice that came from behind him was supposed to be the Battle Master, but it was hollow and dead as a tree left to die of disease. Turning away from the broken face of the newly minted Battle Master and ignoring the roiling flames and embers of the planet below them Galgac looked to the human whose mind he was currently walking through. Eyes like chips of ice, face hewn of stone and stance like a mountain enduring a hurricane, the True Battle Master stood there, tears streaming from his eyes as he looked down at the planet. The feeling that radiated from this pillar of strength was that of a human forged in battle, a cold breeze from Galgac’s homeworld at the turning of the seasons, soothingly cold and bracing but with the slightest change and without warning it could become sharp enough to slice to the bone.

“We will never know exactly how many died in the attack...never know how many were condemned to death by my actions, my failure to negotiate peace. I have been told by the best shrinks, negotiation experts, politicians, therapists etc etc that there was nothing I could have done. I have seen the reports, the statistical analysis and every piece of data we could possibly have of the war before, during and after this moment...it doesn’t help. I can hear them you know…” At this point Galgac thought he might be able to hear ‘them’...whoever ‘They’ were. 

“I can hear them in my dreams...in my moments of weakness. I can hear the screams and cries of those that are burning down there right now. I can hear the ones that were on the edge and that survived the initial blasts. I can hear the ones that looked up to the skies that day and screamed as they gazed upon judgment being passed upon them. I was Judge, Jury and Executioner that day and I have never been able to tell myself otherwise.” 

It was probably a trick of the memory but Galgac was certain the fires of the planet burned brighter and fiercer in the eyes of the True Battle Master for just an instant. The feeling of a turning season’s breeze faded only to be replaced by the feeling of a crushing weight placed upon him, as if chains forged in the fires of a dying planet were wrapping themselves around him.

Galgac was about to ask a question on what he was talking about when he felt a shift ...it was subtle but in no way insignificant. There was a weight behind this shift in the memory that defied the understanding of a mere mortal. Looking around himself Galgac noticed that things were becoming...wrong. 

Corners had too many angles...distances were infinitely far away and yet too close to comprehend. Walls were suddenly as solid as time and yet as fluid as thought, gravity became nothing more than a concept as he slammed to the deck of the Command Center with all the power of a star falling from the heavens and yet landing like a feather. 

“What...what is happening!?” Galgac asked as he picked himself up from the floor.  Looking over to the Battle Master he was surprised to see a look of curious anticipation upon his face. 

“Have you ever done this memory walk thing with someone who was dying? Ever heard of anyone who had?” The Battle Master asked with a sense of calm that seemed to spread to the surroundings.

The world seemed to solidify around them and once more Galgac was looking at nothing more than the memory of the ship’s interior. Looking back to the Battle Master, Galgac saw that he had begun walking down the main corridor towards engineering. Hurrying after the human Galgac cast one last look back to the planet as it burned beneath them under the continued barrage of the Fleet Armada. 

In the time it took Galgac to turn his head back to the front they were passing through the galley, by the time he comprehended this fact they had stepped through the security door to engineering, before Galgac could even begin to think of the reason they had traveled so far, he found himself standing in front of a door covered in a variety of signs denoting hazardous levels of radiation beyond the door.

The air was heated as if they were in a sauna and hummed with barely contained power. Noticing the signs posted around them and seeing the various gauges on display Galgac realized they were next to the main reactor. 

“The heart of the ship…” The voice from the Battle Master was almost reverent as he gazed at the door to the reactor chamber.

Walking as if in a dream the Battle Master stepped forward and opened the door before Galgac could stop him. Now Galgac had never been inside a reactor chamber but he was pretty sure it didn’t have such a bright light on the other side of the door. 

Seeing the human silhouetted before him in a light so bright it should have hurt his eyes Galgac wanted to look away but found that he couldn’t. This could be some kind of new memory and he had to bear witness to it. A feeling like the very depths of the void between stars slowly began tracing over Galgac’s skin, cold beyond anything he could ever comprehend, tracing lines of dancing non-feeling across his entire being...down to his very soul. 

“No Son, not that is not for you to see.”

A voice he had not thought he would ever hear again sounded in his ear just before a hand on his shoulder spun him around. Feeling himself wrapped in arms as familiar as they were comforting Galgac found he couldn’t speak past the raw feelings he was being bombarded with. Desperate yearning for something he had never had or experienced, a deep and ever-growing abyss of loneliness that promised to be relieved just beyond that light. Cold beyond anything he could ever understand battled with a warmth he could never forget while crushing solitude warred against familial companionship. “Father…”

The word was barely able to choke itself past the feelings he was trying to make sense of, Galgac drew upon the second-hand memory of a human’s power and will in order to wrap his own arms around the figure before him.

The form was smaller than he remembered, or he was bigger...regardless it was no less powerful than his last memory of it. He had always marveled at his father’s presence, the strength in his figure and weight of his gaze...now he knew, he understood what it was. His father had walked through the fires of a human’s mind and life and come out stronger for it and now it was his turn. 

“Easy boy...I knew you would find yourself here one day, unfortunately this is all I can do for you. You mustn't look lad, that is not something for you to gaze upon.” The voice of his father was enough to bring tears of painful loss and joyous memory to Galgac’s eyes. 

“What is it father, what is that light?” Galgac buried his face in his father’s broad shoulder in the same way he had as a youngling when he had accidentally viewed someone's mind and been scared of what he saw. 

“It is the fire at the beginning and end of time, the edge of eternity and beginning of nothing...it is everyone's final destination.” Feeling his father raise his own head and hearing him speak again Galgac could tell he wasn’t the one his father was speaking to. 

“Go ahead John, I’ll see you on the other side. I saved you a seat and a glass of whiskey just like you asked.” 

“Thanks Gal, I’ll be seeing you soon...you got a good kid there you know.” It was probably just the strange feelings he was enduring but Galgac could almost swear he heard tears in the Battle Master’s voice. 

“Yeah I know...he is pretty awesome, just like I told you all those times. As for you Son, it’s time for you to leave.” And indeed it seemed as if that would be the best plan of action as the world around him seemed to become less and less real with every failing heartbeat that now rang throughout the mental construct. 

“Tell your mother I miss her and that there are so many goddesses in the afterlife I may have to lower my standards for one of them.”

Galgac gave a choked laugh at the stupid joke his parents always seemed to have...how his father could never bring himself to betray his mother because even if a goddess descended before him, she could never hope to live up to his mother’s beauty and sharp wit. 

“HA...hehe…she is going to kick your teeth in when she catches up to you, you know that right.” He didn’t care that he was talking to a mental construct of a father that had died months ago...short by human standards but long enough to dull the pain for many other species. 

“Yeah I know...well she has to catch me first. Farewell Son, it was good seeing you again.”

With those final words Galgac found himself surrounded by a crushing black void and the overwhelming sense of something staring at him. Something older than even humans could comprehend, something that was interested in him only as a future project or a topic to come back to in a casual conversation. Trying desperately to remember how to release himself from another’s mind, Galgac was just about to panic when he felt as much as heard a voice that would speak to him in his dreams and nightmares for years to come. 

‘Not yet...’

================================================

With a jerking start Galgac’s eyes snapped open and it was only after a few seconds that he could understand what he was seeing.

An off-white ceiling, meaning he was probably on his back...the soft cushion beneath him confirmed his current position. Turning his head Galgac realized the ringing in his ears was not in his head but rather the life signs indicator attached to the Battle Master.

“Do not bother…” The voice seemed to come from a great distance.

“The Battle Master has passed from this life and is enjoying his final peace.”

Oh...that was his voice...yes it was...closing his eyes Galgac began the process of reacquainting his mind with his physical body. A body he had been born with but had spent less than his full life-span within, a body that had tasted the power, ferocity and sheer depth of a human’s mind. Doing his best to ignore the sounds of the doctors trying to revive the great man one bed over Galgac forcibly relaxed into the cushion and did his best to bring order to his mind and body...and to come to peace with seeing his father one last time.

================================================

The Funeral for John Alventar, Battle Master, Peace Bringer, Black Operator...husband...father...beloved...was a thing of beauty beyond what most species would understand, but Galgac now could. 

With his newfound understanding of how deep and powerfully a human could feel Galgac felt himself straining under the weight of the proceedings around him. An almost inconceivable amount of children, grandchildren and even great-grandchildren approached to console him, as if he was the one losing a family member. 

Representatives from the remaining Alenshal empire arrived along with ones from the Kalasha Shoal, Melenkal Coalition, Sardashian Republic and half a dozen other smaller groups. Entombed upon his final command ship, in a cask of demi-steel the Battle Master gently cruised towards his final destination. 

The Black Hole known as Charybdis...an ever-consuming horizon of unknown danger and glory, what better final resting place for one as mighty as the human that had done so much in his lifetime.

Gazing out at the endless void and pinprick points of light Galgac nearly felt himself begin to slip back into the memories of John ‘Battle Master’ Alventar.

Over there was the main star of the system that birthed the Kalasha Shoal, thirty degrees up and seven to port was the home system of the Sardashian Republic...he was pretty sure he had grandchildren there, no...the Battle Master had grandchildren there, not him, not Galgac who had barely seen a handful of human cycles. 

Giving himself a quick shake Galgac focused on the here and now, what could he hear and what could he see. With a disturbingly human pricking of his ears Galgac zeroed in on a conversation between the representatives from the Melenkal Coalition and the Sardashian Rep.

“Admit it, the only reason you are here is to make sure the old monster under your sleeping pad is truly dead.” The voice of the Melenkal Coalition was like gravel being tumbled in a metal tube.

“Saaaahh…this is true, I wish to make sure the Harbinger is truly gone as it would not be the first time he has falsified his demise.”

Contrary to the Melenkal representative the Sardashian’s voice was a musical mixture of chirps and whistles that translated to a rather pleasant songlike voice. It would be a few rotations before Galgac realized it but at the time he was not using his universal translator and was in fact simply understanding the words and sounds being spoken…much like a human would. 

Looking out over the vast star field that was to bear witness to the Battle Master’s final journey, Galgac casually took note of the wide variety of vessels that had shown up in the last few hours. Flagships and attending lesser vessels lit up the surrounding area with active sensor sweeps as they maintained acceptable distances from each other. 

Blocky and stout Melenkal Destroyers surrounded the long and lithe winged shapes of the Sardashian Rep. Weapons had been physically safed and disabled according to galactic funerary laws but the tension was still enough to be felt across the void. There may have been decent relations between the attending parties, but old grudges still reared their heads every now and then.

‘Ha…’old grudges’...none of these individuals have a grudge older than the Batt...than John’s youngest great- granddaughter…’Galgac just smiled bitterly to himself as he thought this.

Realizing why it was considered a double-edged honor to enter a human’s mind among his people Galgac did his best to remember who he was among the still fresh torrent of foreign memories. He thought he knew what it was to feel anger, but now he realized he had barely felt a candle’s heat when compared to the raging inferno of a human’s wrath. Sorrow was nothing new to him, but the crushing weight and dragging doubt that humans could endure showed him that he had not even begun to understand what loss and pain meant. Galgac had known happiness in his life, but he had never known the glowing golden light of a humans’ joy, the effervescent feeling of happiness pure and light that always seemed to make things a little easier. 

It was with a depth of sorrow he had never felt before, and a greater understanding of the feeling itself, that Galgac watched the great vessel that carried the Battle Master cruise gently forward until it reached the event horizon of Charybdis. Watching the mighty starship be slowly pulled into the depths of the singularity and disintegrate the further in it went, Galgac felt now would be a good time to enact the Battle Master’s final wish.

Unseen to any others in the room Galgac pulled out a small remote and pressed a button.

With a flicker the various view screens around the observation deck switched over to a picture of the Battle Master. To say the occupants of the room were startled at seeing their honored nemesis glaring down at them when he should be well on his way down the throat of a black hole was an understatement. 

“Hello everyone.” The voice of the Battle Master rang out over the station’s observation deck.

“By now you probably think I’m dead and well on my way to my final resting place...and I very well might be, but as you will never see my body, I want you to ask yourselves ‘Is it worth it to try and undo what he did?’...of course this might just be a pre-recorded message, but in case it isn’t let me give you one last piece of advice: let someone else figure it out first.”

Galgac had to draw on a few memories from the late John ‘Battle Master’ Alventar to make sure his laughter at the faces of horror that now surrounded him looked more like the shaking of sorrow and tears. Only a human would do something like this, strike one last bolt of terror into those that were so eager to see him dead. 

Walking off the observation deck as unobtrusively as possible Galgac allowed himself to smile at the sounds of fearful chaos behind him, a true smile with teeth bared and cheeks pulled back to his ears, with eyes squinted and a laugh ready to bubble from his chest...a very human smile.  

[ghostfacesvalentine]

HALLOWEEN DAY 26: It’s a Halloween party right? - Multi!Muse x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Multimuse x Fem!Reader

Warning: Mentions of basically bullying, cursing, killing, a little graphic but nothing crazy.

Type: Blurb

Request: N/A

Word count: N/A

Prompt: Tiny blurbs of what I think the muses would act when you’re at a Halloween party with them and someone makes fun of your costume!

Notes: Why did anyone stop wearing costumes I hate this new era were in. Grow up. Wear a costume.

Jason Voorhees: Immediately killing. No doubts about that, I take Jason to be a somewhat naive character but he absolutely knows what it’s like to have someone laugh at you. Whether it’s a crude joke or a twisted sense of humor, he can put two and two together, so the party definitely goes from zero to a hundred. I don’t think he would give the other a second to correct themselves or analyze the situation, instead it’s immediate kill, ask questions later. If you ran away crying, it’s overkill and Jason would never give parties a second chance, sorry.

Michael Myers: I think if he understood it, it may take him a while, they have to be obnoxious about it. If they’re laughing and throwing stuff at you, immediately Michael springs into action. There’s so many people who dress like him anyway, there are doubts that he’s even the real thing but some the smarter of the bunch know better than to join in and make a run for it before they get caught in the crosshairs. When everyone is pinned to the walls with kitchen knives and whatever he can find, then the place gets set ablaze, it’s not like he wanted to be there in the first place.

Tiffany Valentine: Picks up on it before you do and when she does she’s coming up with the most embarrassing way to be found dead. She’s trying to be a better person, she really is but why are they laughing at you? Maybe she can give everyone else who gets their hands on the crime scene photos something to laugh about. I don’t think she would give them a second to apologize or make up for it, she’s already had their death made up in her mind. They really fucked with the wrong person.

Billy Loomis: Laughs louder but with empty eyes, these group of kids just signed their death sentence. If you’re sobbing, the more tears you shed, the more blood they will. If you’re only uncomfortable, they’re still dying, maybe not as gory but he’s still taking his time. He gets away with it too, with the help of Stu. “Come on, Stu’s parties are way better than this” he’d kiss your forehead, not caring if there’s glitter sprinkled all over him.

Stu Macher: Kind of grinning, looking at both you and whoever the hell is trying to insult your costume. “Well I think it’s really cool.” He’d say, acting nothing but stupid with a big grin. I think he would have less restraint than Billy though, he’d start getting the strays one by one, coming around acting completely clueless as to what was happening. He’s a little smug with how well he covers up what’s real blood and what’s part of the decorations. Be careful pissing off Stu, you would’ve thought people would know that by now.

Leatherface: Poor baby he would be so confused at first, the groups of people would have to literally be laughing and you’d have to have a visceral reaction to their mean words. As soon as he puts two and two together, its head empty only wants to see their guts across the room. He’s especially violent because he knows what it’s like to be made fun of by his family and by the victims. It’s not a good feeling and he would do anything to make it go away when it came to you.

Patrick Bateman: There would be light chuckles, all the way up until he notices that they’re talking about you. A pressed smile would make itself present across his face, sniffing his drink before setting it down. Swiping his tongue across his perfect front teeth, mouth closed and sticking a fist in his pocket. You insisted to dress up for the silly Halloween party, he was hesitant about allowing you, but you did look stunning in designer clothes as a tacky costume. Patrick would absolutely pull a Stu and lead the others away from the pack, one by one around the building before unleashing the most amount of rage. Spitting and yelling, blood of his victims splattered across his delightful face. “Not the fucking face you fucking fuck.” He’d groan out wiping as much as he could off with his sleeve and trying to slick back his hair as much as possible before moving to the next person.

Harley Quinn: “Whatddaya mean by that?” There would be no hesitation for Harley to have the group try to correct themselves, depending on their reactions would directly affect if and how’d they die. If they would show no remorse, Harleys face would turn into a wide smile, staring blankly at them before shrugging her shoulders then shooting them point blank in the face, one by one. If there was some kind of remorse, Harley would be judge, jury and executioner about it. “Sorry about the blood on yer costume cupcake, maybe Ivy has somethin’ for that! If not her, then maybe kitty Kat.” Nobody makes fun of her baby, if they did, then she’d make sure they wouldn’t laugh about anything ever again.

Poison Ivy: With a raised eyebrow, Pamela would know exactly whether or not how they meant it and if she didn’t, they’re wrong, it’s exactly how Pamela viewed it. You were so excited to wear a costume, Ivy even helped you get it together, you were absolutely over the moon and now, some people who thought they were too good to dress up for Halloween were laughing in front of you both. Similar to Harley, she is judge, jury and executioner. While her methods would be a little more sophisticated, they still inflict the most amount of pain. She always carried something for moments like this, where one’s blood would turn against them, making them feel like there’s venom slowly invading their veins. Maybe a prick, maybe some powder, maybe a kiss, who really would see it coming. Either way, nobody laughs at her baby.

Billy Hargrove: Would stop what he’s doing immediately to look at whoever or whatever group was laughing at you, there would be a moment of silence offered to them to get themselves together. Not many chose to laugh or keep up the act and those who did would get a real beating full of pent up rage. So what if you wanted to wear a costume, so what if you were the only one. That was the point of it no? A halloween party? These people were going to be damn near unconscious by the time he’s done with them.

Steve Harrington: All fun and games until you’re crying. “You guys take it too far!” If you ran out of the room, Steve is chasing after you immediately to console you. You’re drunk, he’s drunk, you’re both a mess but you’re crying and as a great boyfriend, he’s trying to console you. “This party’s lame anyway, let’s get out of here” he’d kiss your forehead, if you’re still pouting he’s more than happy to sit down with you. “I think you’re the prettiest fairy in the whole world. And other worlds too.” He’d wipe the tears off your face, getting a warm towel to help. “Come on. You’re so beautiful, you look amazing, everyone’s costume is a jackass I guess. But I thought we were supposed to be something different for Halloween” he’d roll his eyes, still drunkenly trying to clean you up. He’s such a catch.

Steve Rogers: Concerned eyebrows active. “Hey what did you just say” suddenly no one wants to repeat themselves and if you know anything about captain America is that he absolutely hates bullies. “It’s a Halloween party no?” Suddenly he’s heated, facing the group completely while you make yourself small behind him. Everyone’s on edge enough to try to break it up. He wasn’t surprised they’d be backtracking, but he still doesn’t accept that behavior. “Apologize” “Steve- no it’s okay.” “No. It’s not okay. Apologize” even if they did, god forbid he caught them alone while you weren’t there. “He must’ve felt left out and added some fake blood to his face to fit in.”

Bucky Barnes: Similar to Steve, he’s going to stand up for you, especially when he can tell if it really got to you. All he thinks about was about how excited you were pulling your costume together and now you were crying or about to start crying and hugging yourself wanting more than anything to go home. Bucky has a way shorter temper than Steve though and he doesn’t care if it’s in front of anyone, they’re going to apologize to you without him having to ask. After sorting that out, he’s babying you after all of this.

Loki Laufeyson: Immediately killing them, even if he’s trying to reform his ways, he still can’t stand the thought of someone else’s words humiliating you. If he doesn’t have the patience to outwit them, he’s absolutely going to kill them. You’re his baby and he will always stand up for you, he’s just a little rusty around his methods. “If you ask me, you’re the most beautiful most elegant vampiress in the universes and I’ve been to many” Loki has such a way to always make you feel like the most beautiful and important creature, if it wasn’t his words, you had a hard time believing anyone else. He worships you more than anyone on this list so it’s hard to let anyone make you feel inferior.

Cloud Strife: He doesn’t get it for a moment, not until you’re upset. When he realizes you’re upset, he follows you out. He’s not the best at comforting but when he sees you upset, he’s all over you. “You look beautiful.” He admires you, after all it’s only Clouds picky opinion that you care about. He rather spend the holiday with you instead, he’s not really much of a party guy. Cloud would absolutely wipe your tears, sit in the grass with you, walk around the town all while complimenting your costume every chance he got.

Sebastian Michaelis: Maybe not immediately killing them, but absolutely torturing them, all with a smile. If there are appearances to be made, he waits until he can find them alone. He understood every crude remark, every joke, even when they thought they could get away with it with sly comments. “You appear to be the most stunning character here Lady Y/N.” That’s enough to make you blush, after all he only has eyes for you. He encouraged you to dress up, he wasn’t lying when he said you looked gorgeous. For anyone to have the nerve to make fun of you, it would be a death wish.

Spencer Reid: He would absolutely outwit them, nobody can really keep up with his charm. He didn’t really acknowledge the joke at first, until it hit him. Both of you would be dressed up and he’s more than ready to stand up for you especially. Spencer vents to you all the time about people who think they’re too good to dress up in a costume for a Halloween party. He doesn’t need to get physical with them, but let’s say if they really crossed a line then he’ll pull some strings at the BAU.

Bruce Wayne: So what if you were the only one wearing a costume, similar to Spencer, he can absolutely outwit them. Everyone wants to please Bruce and it only takes him staring at the ones who are laughing with a straight face. The elites around him would want his validation so bad that they would also stop laughing immediately. “I don’t get it. Who are you again? New money?” Hit them where it hurts. “The dress is Hermes, fortunately they had it expedited last minute. We had a few options to sort through. Looks like a dream nevertheless.” But it was never the dress that made you look godly, it was Bruce’s love.

Jason Todd: Immediately getting violent “what the fuck did you just say” and you better hope he misheard them. It’s scary to see Jason get this worked up, but it was for you. Before you know it he’s got another guy hung up against the wall or dragged across the table by the collar of their shirt. He would comfort you afterwards, treating you to whatever you want. “You know you’re the prettiest baby at the party.” If anything they’re better off making fun of you instead of making crude comments about wanting to see what you look like under the costume, I think Jason would have to be locked up in Arkham after that if that were to happen. He’s still pulling strings with the batfam to teach them a lesson.

[evilminji]

You know what would be HILARIOUS?

For everyone NOT involved in the situation?

If the Uzumaki, mad lads that they were, seal master's who routinely moon the Shinigami for funsies that they are, got SUUUUUPER drunk? And were like?

"F-! *hic!* FUCK your fancy ass Summons contract Himiko! I got one TOO, you know. A..An' it's TOTALLY better then yours! It's got BLACKJACK! And hookers!" *falls on their face unconscious*

Needless to say? Not their proudest moment. Actually, their kinda deeply embarrassed. But like FUCK ARE THE BACKING DOWN! Their mouths wrote a check their ass can't currently cash... so the only REASONABLE solution? Apologize and tell the truth? Psh! NO.

Break Reality Until It's TRUE.

THEN they weren't technically lying!

They're a GENIUS~☆! :D

And yes, yes this IS normal behavior for them. It's both cultural AND genetic. There was a REASON people were terrified of those insane mother fuckers.

Because? They just? MADE UP a A Summons Contract. With Who? Dunno! We're gonna find out! But it looks right Seals wise! *signs name before anyone with sense can stop them, does the signs, draws blood aaaand?*

POOF!

Nani THE FUCK!? Says local dead Japanese 16th century fisherman who was flying by to visit the Lair of his buddy the 14th century monk. Behold! A FUCKING ZONE GHOST! He is unsummoned before he can react.

The Uzumaki have A Ghost Contract™.

.........th....they may have fucked up.

YOU THINK?

Roars basicly the ENTIRE Elders council. Who FUCKING FELT THAT. Because EVERYONE Felt that. They're SENSOR. That was a HOLE in REALITY that somehow GLOWED like a BEACON of both absolute Nothingness and Death! You TRAUMATIZED THE KIDS, YOU ASSHOLE!

Still....they ARE ninja. And Curious mother fuckers to the last.

So basically EVERYONE and their dog signs it. They somehow get WEIRDER. Bigger Chakra reserves. Obsessive tendencies. Meh, you win some, you lose some.

But? Then they fuckin DIE. (And their WHOLE ASS VILLAGE SHOWS UP IN THE ZONE. OH GOD, WHAT-!?)

And some grave robbing fuck tries to use the Contract. SUPRISE MOTHERFUCKER!

Ghost Uzumaki!

Your literal worst nightmare!

They DO NOT try using it again. It gets sealed DEEP. Until the Hokage gets wind of it. And, of course, Danzo. The Hokage sends Hound. And Team Kakashi on a completely unrelated but nearby "help a farmer" mission. Danzo sends assassins. Because he's fucking awful.

Kakashi gets the scroll.

Yep. Creepy rambling and shit handwriting, def Uzumaki. Time to go.

He gets attacked on the way back to camp. GDI Root. Well, its you or me. Sucks for you, I guess. They fight. They get a lucky shot. He bleeds on the scroll, doesn't notice. But SURELY... SURELY it isn't CROWDED enough with names that the Uzumaki just added a "and anyone who bleeds on THIS part at the bottom _______ plus does the handsigns" towards the end.... RIGHT??

RIGHT?! Look him in the EYES Uzumaki Clan, RIGHT??!

They would prefer not to answer that. The Vibez here are getting REALLY aggressive, you know? >.> It made sense at THE TIME...

So... he goes to summon his Dogs.

And he SURE DOES GET UM.... plus One(1!!!).

Who the FUCK is this glowing green dog? A puppy? Kakashi seeing the dimwitted looking little thing about to get STABBED tries to rescue it. It takes one look look at him (worried for it), the other dogs (growling at his enemies, fighting) and... turns around, shifting as it does, to HUNDREDS of times it's previous size.

Like an Akimichi transformation.

A sudden, hulking, green WOLF with red glowing eyes and killing intent that would Rival a demon's. The howl is unearthly. It joins the fray like a meat thresher.

Then pops back to a floating, tongue lolling, dimwitted pup the second everything is done.

G...God boy?

Far be it for KAKASHI to fear a dog, no MATTER how dangerous. So he carries it back to camp. Where it seems to instant fall in LOVE with Naruto. They become the BEST of friends.

There's frolicking.

Looking down at the pocket with the scroll he reclaimed? Yeah. Yeah that tracks. According to Pakkun, the pup has a "weird, echo-y" accent and is incredibly scatter brained. Training to be a gaurd dog? WAS Training. IS currently... what.

Okay. IS currently the gaurd dog/pet of an Emperor. Because THATS not alarming. Did the Royal family all... wait... he examines the pup again. Transparent. Was it KILLING intent he felt... or a Deathy pressure? Didn't the Uzumaki have Forbidden soul and death seals? It would stand to REASON...

Oh god damn it.

Pakkun. Pakkun please tell me that pup is ALIVE.

(He can not.) (Hilariously? Dispite being TERRIFIED of Ghosts? Naruto is TOTALLY COOL with Zone Ghosts? Don't be MEAN, Sensei! They're just PEOPLE! It's not THEIR fault They're dead! Now GHOSTS? Spooky and EVIL! Totally different.)

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @legitimatesatanspawn @mayfay

[princessbrunette]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

woke up thinking about big brother rafe, toddler!wheezie, and babysitter!reader again …

rafe getting jealous when he finds out you babysit other kids. he follows you about the kitchen at tannyhill as you prepare the toddlers lunch, smiling to yourself at his clear jealousy over something so trivial.

“so that’s why you can’t watch wheezie on sunday? who— who’s kid is it? like, who’s the parent?”

“thats confidential information rafe, i’m here every other day this week why does it matter?” you giggle, slicing up baby carrots to fit a toddler sized mouth.

he leans against the countertop, pressing his lips together and lets a silence fall over you for not even a minute. “wheeze is your favourite though right?”

you turn around with an amused smile, holding back your laugh at his pettiness. “what?”

“shes your favourite, right?” he stares at you, dead serious and you lean on one hip.

“of course she is. i’m here the most, aren’t i?”

“right, right… this kid you’re babysitting on sunday, they got any older brothers?”

“rafe, c’mon.” you giggle, a little flustered but you turn back to the counter to continue preparing the food to hide this.

“look, i— i’m just lookin’ out for you, alright? what if you go over there n’there’s some creep waiting for you?” he stresses and you shake your head, warmth blossoming in your chest.

later that day — the three of you head out on rafes boat, and for a little while, out on the open water, rafe drops the big bad bully act and lets his guard down. you watch as he holds his little sister on his hip, steering the boat with the other hand. you can’t hear what he’s saying, but the two of them are giggling. it’s the first time you really see rafe fill the ‘dad’ shoes, and it makes you wonder what it would be like to have your own baby with him. the idea makes your stomach warm and heart flutter.

within the next week or so, you end up at the same party as rafe on one of your free days. it’s the first time you’ve really hung out in a social setting appropriate for people your age, and it feels almost a little weird and awkward at first. as the night goes on and the drinks flow, things get more flirty. he had a super bad day, but with you here — things felt a little better.

rafe steps away to speak to topper for a few minutes, and in that time a total creep comes out of seemingly nowhere and begins to bother you. he talks too close to your face, starts to grab at you, doesn’t take no for an answer— you’re starting to think that you can’t actually escape this, until of course, rafe comes swinging out of nowhere.

but it’s not just a one punch and he’s done, no — rafe beats him bloody, the anger issues and coke and bad day piling up on him as he continuously beats on this guy. maybe he deserves it, sure — but when the guy stops responding and rafe continues to punch and yell, panic settles in your stomach. this guy might just die.

the crowd do nothing to discourage him, drunk and cheering him on as they circle round to watch, one hundred witnesses from every angle. you call his name, but you get ignored. he grips the guys collar, malicious open mouthed grin on his face as he holds him for a moment, looking at his masterpiece.

“rafe you’re gonna kill him!” you shout, trying to be heard over the cheering. he definitely hears, because he glances up at you— the look on his face reading that he just didn’t care. “its not worth it you’ll go to jail!” you feel tears in your eyes at the thought of him not being in the house with you and wheezie anymore. wheezie.

he lifts his fist to strike a final blow, and you holler out once more. “think of wheezie!”

it’s then he freezes, blinks a couple of times — and then just like that he looks around at the scene he’s caused and shoves off onto his feet, walking away. he walks away from the party, infact — he walks all the way home.

maybe he should keep his relationship with you professional, he could have been locked up for life that night. love makes you do crazy things.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

[luveline]

Jade, if you don't mind, I'd love to see more of Spencer with a badass!reader who doesn't want to show much emotion bc it's a bit hard for her :)

Have a nice day<33

thank u!

cw graphic imagery + minor character death 

The gunshot is loud. It's deafening. It's deja vu. 

Spencer watches the body collapse in on itself with ears ringing, a pitching forward, a mess where a head used to be hitting the tiled floor. Barely a teenager, snuffed to nothing. You collapse onto your knees beside it, the sound of your knee caps connecting with the floor the only distinctive sound to his ears. He can't hear Hotch, rarely pissed, and he can't hear the sirens outside. He can't hear any of it. 

Blood spray on your cheek transfers to his hand as he remembers himself, falling onto his knees beside you, gore sinking into his pants. It's hot in its pool, colder where it's painted your face, the spray metallic as he swipes it away from your eyelashes. "Are you okay?" he asks, trying to meet your eyes. 

Your gaze is a thousand miles away. You won't look at him. He forces your chin up and it doesn't matter; you aren't present, no you behind your eyes. 

He applies pressure to your face. Nothing cruel, enough to drag you back to the present as his thumb sets about stroking a soft line, the only softness he can offer right now. "Are you okay?" he asks again. He says your name. 

You barely blink. 

"Take her outside, Reid," Hotch says, pointless EMTs creeping into the room. They're there to confirm death. Nothing else. "Just take her out." 

Spencer hooks you under the arms and drags you up against his chest. You're rigid, dead weight, and he has to plead with you to get you moving. "Come on," he says, his arm behind your back. 

Morgan sees the struggle. He has questions of his own, but all his off-kilter teasing and pet names fall on deaf ears as the two men help you outside and onto a low flower bed wall. You seem to snap back into action, then, breath suddenly quick and hands stretching out to touch your blood slick knees. You visibly fret at the staining of your palms and wipe your hands down your calves, a bundle of harsh movements. 

"It's okay," Spencer says. 

"Does she need a medic?" Morgan asks. He sounds angry, somehow. Spencer knows it to be a manifestation of his worry for you in your reluctant friendship. 

You turn to Spencer, eyes imploring. 

"No," Spencer says, "just give us a minute." 

Morgan squints. A minute, he seems to agree, and not a second longer. You're quick to anger, sure, but quicker to logic, and your shock is catching everyone unprepared. You've never reacted like this. Spencer has never seen you on your knees like that. 

"I'm sorry," you say, touching his thigh. Your voice is barely your own, thready and hoarse. "I tried." 

"I know you tried. I know you did, you have nothing to be sorry for." Spencer's reeling himself. They haven't had a case like this in years, and it hits the same. Another bullied kid failed by the people around him, who could've hurt hundreds of people, who could've killed them, and killed you. It's complicated but remarkably simple. "He was going to hurt you." 

"We could've–" You choke on something, some suggestion of a what-if.

You don't let yourself connect to people on cases. You have sympathy for victims, empathy, but you don't react like this. You're like Emily in that you compartmentalise everything you can. You've never spoken about past cases and what you might change, never even suggested to him that you think about your failings after they've happened, until now. 

"I don't know what happened," you say, your voice near whining, high-pitched and logged with panic as you stare down at your legs and cover your face, as though you don't want him to see you. 

You turn away from him. 

"It's okay," he says. He tries to be soft but his adrenaline is coasting, his reassurance panicked. You sound like you're in pain. 

"I don't know what happened," you insist, covering the back of your head with your hands as you curl in on yourself. 

You don't cry. Spencer wasn't expecting you too. You just panic, tensed, turned away from him, and flinch at his attempts to touch you. "Don't. I'm fine," you force out. 

"You're not fine. You don't have to be fine," he stands up and you flicker, hands pushing down harder. Spencer covers them with his own and sighs. "It's okay. It's okay." He drops to a whisper. "It's okay, you're okay." 

You're hard to comfort, but it's not impossible. Spencer isn't stupid. He knows if this were anyone else touching you, you'd have sprung from your makeshift seat or pushed them away, but he's lucky in that you seem to have this tender spot for him, a sweetness that never wanes. He drifts in closer and hugs your head to his abdomen, one arm covering your hands until they fall, the other across your back. 

Your job is your job, but there is nothing wrong with needing comfort after seeing something horrific. "It's okay if you don't feel how you were expecting," he says, rubbing a half-circle into your back.

"It's hard… for me. This is…" 

You don't finish. It doesn't matter. Spencer paused any action to hold you, his eyes shuttering closed, dumb to any sound beside the strange shudder in your breath as you catch it. You've always had a talent for removing Spencer from his surroundings; you've looked at him and snagged him out of time. He never knew it could happen like this, though. You struggle to fall apart and Spencer doesn't know if he should hold you together or let it hurt. 

Whatever you do… "I'm here," he says, rubbing your back. 

You wrap your arms around his waist. 

[dalliancekay]

"There is no 'our side', Crowley!"

I was looking for this gif and every post I came across was some variation on how poorly was Crowley treated here. Poor boy. How utterly cruel of Aziraphale. How heartless. How he just dropped Crowley like a hot potato. Cos Heaven was coming. And Aziraphale decided that they were over. And he was going back to them. Or something. If you know any that look into how Aziraphale is feeling, please tag me. What do I think Aziraphale is feeling?

Well. Was he happy to have Armageddon coming? No. But he did think it was inevitable.* However. They tried to influence the Antichrist. But had the wrong boy. Then they tried to think of how to find the real one and in that short time - what? Kill him? Talk to him? They had no idea what the kid is like. What powers he has. None.

The Great Plan. It is coming to its fulfilment. It is written. The War is about to begin. Heaven and Hell. The big one. They both know this. And this is not something Aziraphale or Crowley can avoid. It's not something they can just stop believing in. They had their Arrangement, their side (sort of), and they managed not to get caught. But now? Now Aziraphale is right. There is no OUR SIDE. There never really was. There might have been a moment in their existence on Earth (about 12 hundred years?) when they could feel like/pretend they are having their own side. But now the full reality of their existence is back. There are Heaven and Hell and they are preparing for War. They have no interest in Earth. Aziraphale and Crowley are tiny pawns in a very big picture. They both belong to their respective sides. They always have. Even when they found ways to work together. (Mostly cos their sides are conceited idiots both.)

And so Aziraphale decided for one more desperate attempt to get God to see how the whole thing can be avoided. Does he think She might understand? We don't know. Does he look full of hope as he walks back to his shop? He doesn't. He gets broken up with again by Crowley who nonsensically (and yes, romantically, sure) wants to go to another star - to do what? Wait till the end of universe reaches them? (Why is everybody always defending Crowley? And act like he's being reasonable there?) And then Aziraphale gets punched in the stomach. By a fellow angel. And told by Metatron to not be a bloody fool and report for service as the good angel he surely is.

And he gets discorporated. Which looks like it really sucks.

And then he DESERTS the War AND Heaven (that he apparently still has faith in...) and goes on a limb to find the boy and just see if he can come up with something. Anything. Thinking Crowley is gone. Packed his stuff and left. Possibly with the friend he was talking to when he tried to call his flat earlier.

Because Aziraphale feels the War and ending of the world is such injustice. Written or not. Great Plan or not. Maybe he didn't think at first he could make any difference but Crowley showed him it's worth considering it. *Crowley is always showing Aziraphale that things can be questioned. It didn't take Aziraphale long at all to reconsider letting things just play out and instead fight to the last breath he doesn't need, for Earth instead. The conditioning he needs to fight isn't that Heaven is good and right. The conditioning he needs to fight is that things can't be changed. That it is all written out. That he is a nobody and can't influence anything. Aziraphale's biggest fight and learning curve is in having faith in himself. So. Much like he felt it was unfair to leave the first humans unprotected and how he felt killing Job's kids was cruel, he disobeys and does his own thing again. He learns he can. But all this comes at a cost. To himself (thinking he will Fall for these things) but also to his beloved - and THAT is much harder for him. He would never want to put Crowley in danger. And he does. Every time they meet. The guilt he must feel for this.

Aziraphale lives between two sides. And they are both awful. And he is often misunderstood for just acknowledging this as reality he and everything else exists in.

I think his view of his reality is pretty accurate. There is no our side. They wanted one. But they can't leave their sides. Even after S1 they couldn't. Not really. And they both knew it. And no, he is not in clutches of Heaven or sometimes reverts to their indoctrination or anything like that. He goes along with Heaven as far as he MUST. And his life alongside his demon, however tentative, was always precious to him. But.

Crowley who showed him how to keep questioning things, try to make them better, didn't see it his way and left.

Aziraphale has to do the best he can and just do something. Anything. He can not just do nothing. He can not try and run. Or hide. Or wait some more. Crowley showed him that things can be different and Aziraphale had to do all to try and make it better. And he will. And Crowley will help. He always does.

Is Aziraphale always right? No. Does he make mistakes? Yes. I am never saying Aziraphale is faultless - but I think many things he is blamed for are not right. And I also think Crowley is often seen as can do no wrong. Everything he says is right. 100% correct. The right things to do. He knows more. Understands more. If he disagrees with Aziraphale than it follows that Aziraphale is wrong. That's not true. They are both beautifully rounded, full, flawed characters I love. They complement each other in ways I bet I have not even noticed yet. And they are their own beings too. They don't only exist for one another.

[antebunny]

a cuckoo in the nest

(Aka the Fae!Tim fic that I decided not to finish and thus am dumping on Tumblr)

The creature that the Unseelie Queen forces on Bruce is disguised as a human child. Worse, it resembles Bruce’s two current children. Skin on the lighter side, lighter than either of his kids, black hair, blue eyes, and a light sweater and sweatpants combination that either Dick or Jason might wear. It is quite the contrast to the wild fey flashing too-bright teeth at Bruce.

“You will welcome it into your home,” the Unseelie Queen commands. “You will treat it as you would your own son. You will do nothing to indicate that it is anything but a human boy.”

One gnarled claw curls around the creature’s shoulder. The creature’s expression remains eerily blank. Another point in favor of its otherworldliness. A normal human child would show some reaction to the Unseelie Queen’s possessive presence. This creature stays perfectly still.

“In return…” the Unseelie Queen crooks one finger of her free hand in a come here motion and a figure stumbles out of the dark trees surrounding their little clearing. 

It is Jason. Injured beyond belief, blue eyes red and weeping. Bruce’s knee jerks, but he forces himself to remain within the small summoning circle. A thin line of salt and iron protecting him from the Unseelie Queen’s unfathomable powers.  

“You get your son back.” She presents Jason to Bruce like she’s selling a prize horse at an auction. One hand on the back of his neck. “Alive and well. As he was before his death. The memory of his death will remain, but dulled. That is my bargain, Batman.”

Bruce is not fool enough to give the Unseelie Queen his real name, nor is he stupid enough to lie to her. Using his nighttime alter ego presents the perfect compromise. Batman is not his real name, nor is it a lie. So it is Batman’s black gauntlets that curl into fists as Bruce considers the Unseelie Queen’s deal. 

It is the height of stupidity to take a creature he does not know the abilities of into Wayne Manor, and pretend it is his son. Given what he knows of the Unseelie Queen, such a creature could cause unfathomable damage to his family, to Gotham. This is a bet of Bruce’s own intelligence against a fey hundreds of times older than Bruce. He could very well end up losing both of his sons this time. 

“B,” Jason sobs. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

But the alternative is to walk away from a chance to have Jason back. This is not the universe where Bruce is capable of such an act. At least with the Unseelie Queen’s bargain, Bruce has a chance to limit any potential harm. Perhaps he can even outsmart the creature and prevent all damage whatsoever. If she had asked him to kill someone, or something more direct, Bruce wouldn’t stand a chance.

Bruce uncurls his fists slowly. “I accept.”

With those two words, both the creature and Jason are invited into the circle. The creature steps forward calmly, Nike sneakers passing over the salt and iron easily. Its arms are flat by its sides, and its head comes up to Bruce’s chest. If it were human, it would be around the same age that Jason was when Bruce caught him stealing the Batmobile’s tires. A blatant attempt at emotional manipulation on the Unseelie Queen’s part. 

Jason is shoved forwards by the Unseelie Queen. He trips over his own feet, but Bruce is there to catch him this time, to gently fold him in his arms and check him over for injuries.  

“I’m getting you home,” Bruce promises. 

And if he has to bring home the Unseelie Queen’s little spy as well to make it happen, then that is a price Bruce is more than willing to pay to have his family whole again.

~

Tim finally has the chance to be part of a family again, and it is the best family he could have imagined. He can scarcely believe his luck as Mr. Wayne–Batman, for now–leads Tim and Jason (who doesn’t look so good) into the Batcave. Tim is so caught up trying not to gape in awe at everything that he misses the hushed conversation that Mr. Wayne has with his butler, and the slightly louder, much longer conversation he has with his eldest son. The original Robin is standing all of five meters away from Tim! He’s going to be Tim’s older brother!

A lifetime ago, when Tim was still fully human, with parents and the last name Drake, he’d been obsessed with Batman and Robin. Had followed them around pitch black rooftops, through the streets buzzing with neon lights and vices, just to get a glimpse of his heroes. Discovered Robin’s true identity shortly before Bruce Wayne adopted Jason Todd, and a new Robin came to roost in Gotham’s skyscrapers. 

Then Janet and Jack Drake gave their only child to the Unseelie Queen in exchange for money and power, and Tim lost his name, and his home, and his entire world. 

 “What is your name?” Mr. Wayne interrupts Tim’s memories. He looms in front of Tim in an empty Batcave. Mr. Pennyworth and both Robins are long gone. It is only Tim, in his ill-fitting human clothes, and Batman. 

Tim knew this question was coming. Mr. Wayne must think that Tim is a human child, and that asking for his name is a simple exchange of pleasantries. He cannot know that Tim is no longer fully human, and his name is no longer free to give or take, nor his own anymore. Luckily, Tim prepared a response. He does not want to lie to Batman, after all, but as much as he wishes he could trust Mr. Wayne with his name, he knows better.

“What do you want to be called?” Mr. Wayne amends, when Tim fails to answer fast enough.

Carefully, Tim purses his lips and whistles. Hoo-ooh. A sharp ho followed by a lower, longer oo sound. The call of a common cuckoo. Hoo-ooh. Hoo-ooh.

Mr. Wayne frowns in response. Tim panics briefly–did he not get the call right? He practiced so much!–and tries again, a little faster. Hoo-ooh, hoo-ooh, hoo-ooh. Please accept me. I know I’m an unwanted interloper, an imposter. Please accept me anyway.

“Do you have a name in English?” Mr. Wayne asks. He repeats the question in a few more languages. Tim recognizes the Spanish and Russian, but he’s not sure what the others are. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Tim nods frantically. He swallows with difficulty, and then whispers: “Tim.” 

It is not a lie, and it is common enough that hopefully Tim can remain anonymous. He is a common cuckoo bird, after all, not even remarkable in his imposition. 

“Well, Tim,” Mr. Wayne says, voice dropping to an ominous growl, “I will uphold my end of the bargain. But do not think for a second that I can be tricked into trusting you. And if you give me even the slightest indication that you intend to hurt a member of my family in any way, I will not hesitate to take you down. Do you understand?”

Tim has not cried in years, not since his parents gave him away. But tonight a peculiar wetness pricks at the corners of his eyes as he nods. “Yes, Mr. Wayne, sir,” he says quickly. “I understand.”

It isn’t as though Mr. Wayne is wrong. Tim is an interloper, here to trick Mr. Wayne and his family into caring about Tim. All Mr. Wayne did was make it clear that he will continue to pretend that Tim is part of his family and that he will not be tricked. There’s no reason for Tim to get emotional about it. 

It’s just that Tim hoped, if just for a moment, that it wouldn’t be pretend.

The Wayne family, aside from Mr. Wayne himself, is very easily tricked. Mr. Pennyworth (“call me Alfred, Master Tim”) lets Tim follow him around even though he won’t let Tim help with chores no matter how much he insists that he can do it. Tim is fine with that, really. For now it is better to be tolerated, if not liked, than not to be tolerated at all. He has noticed that even Mr. Wayne defers to Alfred in household matters, so it is good to have the real head of household somewhat in his corner.

Most days, Tim sits on the kitchen counter while Alfred cooks, and awkwardly attempts to answer questions about his previous life. It is mixed, as far as conversations go. The questions are very stressful for Tim, who is never sure how much he should say, but smelling and eating human food after so long without it still brings tears to his eyes. 

Simmering tomato floats through the air as Alfred adds a pinch of rosemary to his soup. Tim’s mouth waters, and he swallows before talking. 

“I had a really long argument with a rosemary plant, once,” Tim recalls ruefully. “It was dumb. But I was so desperate for human food that I’d’ve said just about anything.”

The rosemary plant refused, in the end. Everyone was too scared of the Unseelie Queen to help Tim. 

Alfred stirs his pot carefully. “You had an argument…with the rosemary plant?” He clarifies neutrally. 

“Yep.” Tim’s legs swing back and forth a bit faster. “I told you, it was really dumb. I would’ve tried with the mushrooms, but they’re mean and scary, really scary. And old.”

Some of the mushrooms are even older than the Unseelie Queen, which makes them even scarier. Except that the Unseelie Queen has Tim’s name, and the mushrooms do not. 

Tim blushes all of a sudden, mindful of his audience. “I didn’t mean being old makes them scary,” he mumbles, furious at himself. He is supposed to be trying to get Alfred to like him, and instead he insults him! What is wrong with him?

“It is quite alright, dear boy,” Alfred says. “I assure you no offense was taken. Now, what is it you were saying about being desperate for human food?”

Mr. Grayson (“call me Dick, everyone else does!”) is the easiest to trick into caring about Tim. He is actually not sure what he did to pull it off. Dick stays at Wayne Manor most weekends, and the first time he comes over, before Tim has a chance to enact any of his thirty-four “Trick Robin Into Liking Me” plans, Dick asks if he wants to get ice cream. Tim accepts eagerly, and Dick smiles so brightly that Tim nearly forgets about Mr. Wayne scowling in the background. After that, Dick always makes a point to seek him out. Tim is pretty sure he makes a bumbling mess of himself every conversation, but somehow Dick keeps laughing it off and taking Tim out for another slightly reckless and exceedingly enjoyable excursion. 

Jason is a bit harder to trick. He is still healing mentally and emotionally from his death, so he’s off-duty as Robin. Since school is out for the summer, this means he spends most of his time curled up in the library. Tim once hovered behind him for hours, trying to work up the courage to start a conversation, when Jason turned and snapped what so aggressively that Tim immediately ran away. 

In general, he is surly, defensive, angry, and reluctant to accept affection from his real family, much less Tim. Eight plans to trick Jason into caring about him are complete failures that end in Tim further earning Jason’s ire. Another fourteen plans are thrown out before Tim can enact them, after the humiliation of the eight failures. 

Eventually, Tim turns to Dick for help. Dick has alluded to a rough start with Jason, which sounds fake to Tim. Dick was Robin, how could anyone not like him? But maybe he can give Tim advice. 

It is a sweltering Saturday in late July when Dick pulls away from Wayne Manor in some type of fancy car with Tim in the co-pilot seat. 

“I need advice,” Tim says nervously as Bristol’s mansions flash by. Tim did his best not to look at the Drakes’ manor. He succeeded in not looking, but he wondered whether his parents started staying in Gotham more often once Tim was gone, and the question won’t leave him alone.

“What’s up?” Dick asks easily. He lazes in the driver’s seat, two fingers on the steering wheel. It is this nonchalance which convinces Tim to go through with his question. 

Tim’s hands tap out some pattern on his forearms and elbows. “How do I get Jason to like me?”

Dick curls his right hand around the wheel and glances at Tim quickly. Tim still struggles reading expressions, so he has absolutely no idea what’s going through Dick’s mind. Maybe he’s thinking that there’s no way that Jason will ever like him. Maybe Dick doesn’t like Tim. Maybe he’s only acting like he cares about Tim because he’s so nice.

“Jason doesn’t…” Dick sighs. “Not like you. He’s just going through a lot right now. On top of the stuff with his birth mother, he also, well, you know.”

“Died,” Tim supplies.

Dick’s shoulders inch towards his ears. Veins in his forearm pop as the hand on the wheel tightens. “Yeah. So, just, give him some time, yeah?” 

But Tim doesn’t have time. He has until the end of the summer, approximately two more months. To the fae the end of summer is not a specific day, but rather a sensation. Decay on the doorsteps, rot in the wind. Hot breezes melting into simmering afternoons. The crisp crackle of a leaf underfoot. 

If he cannot trick every member of the Wayne family into loving him by the end of summer, he must return to the Unseelie Queen, this time forever. That was her bargain. This is Tim’s one chance to escape her. 

Tim looks out his window at the cold, unfeeling mansions and nods miserably. “Okay.”

Jason does not like the new kid. Everything about him is just slightly off. He walks like he’s surprised that his feet come back down. He talks like he’s describing a dream and expects everyone else to understand. He’s constantly watching Jason silently with those eerie, unblinking eyes of his. Despite living in the same house as Batman, Tim is quieter still, always popping up unannounced and thrusting a trinket or a book at Jason. 

This isn’t even getting into the part where Jason knows he died but doesn’t quite remember it and keeps having nightmares he doesn’t understand. He vaguely recalls a forest that wasn’t a forest and a hand that wasn’t a hand, curling around his shoulder. Bruce won’t stop treating Jason like glass and Dick still looks weepy sometimes, but neither will let Jason out as Robin. All three are letting Jason get away with everything except the things he actually wants to do. It’s infuriating. 

In other words, the summer is off to a great start.

“Bets on the new kid,” Jason says. He’s in the middle of making himself peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, because he is the only one that Alfred allows in the kitchen. 

Dick is draped dramatically across the counter, because according to him it’s so tragic how Jason never wants to do anything fun. Jason hit him over the head with a spatula in response. Dick whined about that, so Jason hit him even harder. 

“What are we betting on?” Dick asks.

Jason half-shrugs. “Like…he’s clearly not human. What is he?”

Dick sits up on the counter. “Yeah, he keeps talking about talking to plants.”

“And plants are always a little bigger and shinier after he leaves the room,” Jason adds.

“Maybe he’s got some relation to Ivy,” Dick suggests.

This entire conversation would not be necessary if Bruce would just cough up the answer. But he responds to every question about Tim with some variation of “hmmm” or “I cannot say.” Jason even sucked up his pride and asked Barbara, but she doesn’t know what’s up with the new kid either. Jason suspects that Bruce promised Tim he wouldn’t tell, because–

“Have you seen his reaction to food though?” Jason asks rhetorically. “It’s like he’s so shocked he’s being fed.”

And he lets that hang, because maybe it’s true, and not a joke. 

Dick scratches his chin. “And he says ‘human’ like he’s not one.” 

“Okay.” Jason sets his mixing bowl down on the counter Dick claimed as his seat. “My theory: he’s a metahuman whose parents–or guardians–or whoever was in charge of him–treated as less than human, and he made B promise not to say ‘cause he doesn’t know we ain’t shit like his parents yet.”

“I mean.” Dick scoots off the counter when Jason comes swinging with the baking tray. He attempts to help Jason spread the parchment paper until Jason glares at him. “He thinks you hate him.”

Jason freezes in the middle of scooping a handful of cookie batter into the tray. Guilt curdles, expired milk and broken egg shells, in his stomach. “I don’t.”

“I know.” 

Dick doesn’t mention the part about Jason dying, because he’s ultra sensitive to that sort of thing. Jason has debated making extra jokes about his death just to force Dick to get used to it, but he hasn’t gone through with it. He’s never seen Dick cry like he did when Jason came back. They haven’t talked about it, because Jason is allergic to big emotions and Dick is nothing but an oversized bundle of big emotions. But it lingers in the back of Jason’s mind, everytime Dick pretends that everything is fine. You mourned me. It’s so obvious, said like that. Of course he mourned Jason. But it’s not an experience Jason ever expected to live through.

Not even Jason knows how he came back to life. He suspects Bruce had something to do with it, but Bruce won’t say. The continuous silence from him is driving Jason to insanity where the Joker and dying failed. 

“Fair tidings.” Tim’s head pops up by Jason’s shoulder and he forcibly suppresses a surprised reaction. Another weird-ism of Tim’s: what sort of American kid says fair tidings? “Can I help?”

“No,” Jason snaps immediately, curling one arm around the batter bowl. 

Dick makes a noise, and Jason winces. He didn’t mean to snap at the kid. It’s just that everything about Tim sets off sirens in Jason’s head. And usually by the time Jason is ready to invite the kid in, he’s run off. 

“Fine,” Jason grunts. He shoves the bowl at Tim. “We’re making cookies.” 

 Tim stares at the bowl with owlish eyes, and Jason clamps down on the urge to yell at the kid again. 

“Hey, Timmy,” Dick says faux-casually. “I never asked. You got a last name?”

Tim’s head snaps up. “Why do you want to know?”

Jesus, he sounds one wrong word from breaking into tears. Jason exchanges a glance with Dick, who is taken aback by the uncharacteristic bout of aggression from the weird kid, and reluctantly decides to intervene. 

“It’s ‘cause we wanna get to know the baby bro better,” Jason says gruffly. “Ya know. Bondin’ and shhhh, uh, stuff.” 

Tim’s blue eyes widen into twin moons. “You want to be my big brother?”

The naked hope in his voice is really not helping with Jason’s guilt. 

“Yeah.” Jason throws down a few more lumps of cookie dough a bit more forcefully than required. “Ain’t no way B is returning you to the kid store.”

Actually, he’s only seen Bruce interact with Tim once, and it was super awkward. But he’s pretty confident that Bruce wouldn’t take in a kid if he didn’t want that kid to be his kid. 

Dick is smiling dopily, so Jason is pretty sure he said enough right words in the right order. “So?” Dick prompts. “Got a last name, baby bird?”

Tim’s hands float to his elbows and start tapping out an unknown pattern. “It’s, uh. Drake.”

“Tim Drake,” Jason tests out, and neither he nor Dick miss the way that Tim does his best impression of a wooden plank at the sound of his name. “Why does that sound familiar?”

“Dunno.” Dick snaps his fingers and points at Tim. “Wait! You’re our neighbor!”

Tim gives Dick his weird blank stare, so Dick points at Jason instead. “The Drakes are our neighbors,” he explains. “The parents were always out of the country for vacation or something, but I remember they had a little kid tag along with them once or twice. What happened?”

“Bruh.” Jason shoves the tray in the oven with his bare hands, because he isn’t a wuss and he’s also not stupid enough to touch the burning hot metal with bare hands. “They supervillains or something?”

Tim shakes his head. His hands press flat against his legs. “They sold me.”

He says it so flatly that Jason exchanges another look with Dick just to make sure he heard right. But Dick’s jaw drops in outrage, so clearly they heard the same thing.

“How? When? To who?” Dick’s eyes narrow. He’s dropping into protective big brother mode. Jason has had the dubious pleasure of experiencing it first-hand a few times. “Does B know about this?”

But Tim shakes his head again. “I can’t say.”

“Are they threatening you?” Jason jumps in, pretending his tone isn’t leaning in the same big brother direction as Dick’s is. “You know B has Supes on speed-dial, right? Ain’t no one in the world who can get away with threatening you now that B’s got you.”

Tim shakes his head a third time, and Jason really has no idea if Tim actually means no or if he’s just moving his head. 

Dick and Jason exchange another worried look, but this time Jason isn’t sure what Dick is thinking. Mostly because Tim just gave them about a thousand more questions in the process of answering one. 

[mionemymind]

The Chosen One

Summary: How do you love the daughter of the evilest family in the galaxy? Just ask Wanda Maximoff.

Warnings: Death, Cursing, Blood, Killing, Angst, Evil

A/n: There is a lot of random fandoms in this one shot that inspired me. Let me list them off: Star Wars, Dune, Skyrim, A Court of Thorns and Roses, Fourth Wing. So if these are one of your fandoms, comment what you think I got from them. Also, please do not judge if lore ain't right. This is my version of stuff and god I'm struggling to remember all of it lmaooooo. Also, thank you @usersukuna for the amazing gif. And thank @hiiraya for reading the rough draft of this. Also, I wanted to get your opinion on it before I posted, but that was gonna take long lmaoooo. So if you see any plot holes bestie, let me know and I'll edit it in later. Also, I had intentions of make this more evil but I don't like the idea of Stockholm Syndrome so yeah.

Word Count: 13.3k

Masterlist

Loving the person that the galaxy was sworn to hate was not an easy task for Wanda Maximoff. She had come from a world that was known for its politics, her parents both being senators. Growing up in that scene allowed Wanda to see just how evil people can be when they seek power so recklessly. 

“I’ll never be like them,” Wanda vowed. She was as little as 10 when she first witnessed multiple assassins kill a mad hungry senator. “Those that are corrupt will only lead to a painful end,” Wanda’s father stated. He didn’t intervene or call for any help. Witnessing her father stand by at such a scene made Wanda question, “Was this a good thing or did my father help with his murder?” She was too scared to ask loudly. That was the moment she knew that fear was a powerful thing to have. 

<|>

Wanda was only 15 when her home planet was captured by the Aetos family. In just one night, she witnessed the destruction of the very thing she called home. She was separated from her family as they packed hundreds of young girls and boys in a spaceship. 

Crying her heart out, Wanda feared where they would take her. Soon they arrived at one of the many planets the Aetos family owned, Acrux. Shoving them in a line, Wanda saw many buildings of Greek inspiration. Not only that, she saw the many people who were enslaved there, all of them being no older than 18 years old. 

She was sorted to work at the Colosseum, one of the unluckiest things to do in Acrux. Every day she was tasked to fight a person, creature, etc. just to live another day. It was a brutal life but if she did survive, it would guarantee she would be able to leave at age 18. 

Two weeks after she arrived, she met Y/n. The kids were fighting for food when Y/n whispered to Wanda, “I know where they keep the food.” By then, she was starving to death and any ounce of awareness was gone at the mere offer of food. 

Y/n was talented and light on her feet, something Wanda quickly noticed. As they snuck around the darkly lit corridors, Y/n finally found the food pantry. “You go first, I’ll make sure to stay on the lookout. Try to eat the farthest batch from the front, that way they don’t notice that it’s gone.” 

Wanda didn’t question how Y/n knew this and simply followed her instructions. The pantry wasn’t massive but large enough that missing food would be hard to notice. Wanda first ate a few berries before heading to the bread. Just like Y/n said, Wanda focused on the stack near the back. 

While the bread was slightly cold, Wanda could tell it had been slightly fresh. One piece of it and she was already in heaven. Not able to contain herself, Wanda tried her best to eat as much as she could. It was selfish but she couldn’t help herself. 

Half a minute had gone by before Y/n opened the door and said, “Guards are coming.” Wanda stuffed the rest of the loaf in her pants pocket and followed Y/n out. They hid in a small opening in the hallway, dark enough that the guards hadn’t noticed them as they walked by. 

Wanda hadn’t realized how small the opening was until they were in it, chests almost touching each other. Looking closely at Y/n, Wanda never realized how close in height they were. She had dark hair and a small scar across her right eye. 

“I think they’re gone now,” Y/n coughed out. Wanda broke the stare she didn’t know she was holding. Quietly they made their way back. Wanda stopped Y/n before they entered the shared living quarters. “I appreciate you looking out for me back there. You didn’t have to - and if I’m being entirely honest, I don’t know why you did that.” 

Y/n smiled at Wanda, not knowing how to take her compliment. “But regardless, here is a piece of bread. I saved it because I knew you didn’t get a chance to grab something. I’m sorry I couldn’t get more but I didn’t know what would get noticed or not.” 

Y/n accepted the piece from Wanda and hid it in her pocket. No words were communicated as Y/n gave Wanda a small smile. They walked back into the quarters where everyone was too busy screaming and yelling to notice they were gone. That was the day Wanda started to look out for Y/n. 

<|>

A couple of days later, Y/n had woken up Wanda from her sleep. “Wake up,” Y/n whispered as she shook Wanda awake. Everyone was asleep by now. Y/n took extra precautions to make sure no one was awake. She didn’t need any snitches to ruin her plan. 

Wanda woke up disgruntled, “What? - What is it?” 

“I’ve been thinking.” 

“This late in the night?” Tomorrow was another designated battle for Wanda and she wanted to have as much energy as she could have for it. 

“Yes - I’ve been thinking a lot about you.” This had gotten Wanda’s attention. She sat up in her bed, scooting over to allow Y/n to sit. “Well, spit it out.”

“You and I can make a pack. I’ve seen you fight and you can carry yourself. But you do have your weaknesses.” Feeling defensive about the latter comment, Wanda said, “And you think you’re better? You haven’t even fought - you don’t even know if you can survive a day out there.”

“I know. I know. But hear me out. I have training and experience. My first match is directly after yours. Just watch me and see. And if you decide it’s worth your time, then you and I can be partners.” 

“What do partners mean to you?”

“It means I got your back and you got mine. If you have trouble, I’ll be there. Do you need something? Food, backup, or training, I’m there. Name it, you got it - just as long as you do the same for me.” Y/n looked around to make sure no one woke up to the sound of them talking. 

“What happens if you or I want more partners?” 

Y/n thought about it for a moment, carefully deciding what to say. “I’m only offering this deal to you and you only. If you decide to partner up with somebody else, I can’t be your partner anymore.”

“Does that mean you also won’t be partners with somebody else?”

“It will only be you Wanda - that’s if you accept.” 

Wanda was perplexed at the offer. She wanted to say yes, especially since Y/n had helped her before. Not wanting to seem eager, she said, “Let me watch your fight and think about it.” 

Y/n nodded in her response and got up. Before she could walk away, Wanda grabbed her hand and asked, “Why me?”

With all her truth, Y/n admitted, “‘Cause you’re the only one in here that has a chance of surviving like me.”

As Y/n walked away, Wanda felt hope for the first time on Acrux, hoping that maybe she’d actually leave this place alive. 

<|>

Today was Y/n’s first fight. Wanda walked away from her match victorious once more. On the way back inside, she passed by Y/n. “Good luck,” Wanda said. In her heart, she could feel that Y/n didn’t need luck. There was this energy that she displayed as if she knew she was going to win even with her eyes closed. 

“Thank you. You’re going to watch, right?” Y/n said while jogging backward. Her choice of weapons was two swords. “I will, probably from the gates though since I can’t run to the stands fast enough.” 

Y/n winked and turned around, she yelled back, “Then I’ll make sure it’s something worth watching.” 

<|>

Wanda and Y/n were 16 when Y/n first got hurt in the arena. A hired bystander had jumped into the ring on top of Y/n. Surprised by the attack, her opponent cut her arm. This type of corruption was something the Colosseum highly disapproved of. 

Within seconds, soldiers flooded the arena and arrested the opponent and bystander. Wanda was first among their peers to aid Y/n. The pounding in her heart and the ringing in her ears almost made her blackout with how worried and angry she was. If the soldiers hadn’t been there, Wanda was certain to have murdered them then and there. 

“Are you okay?” Wanda checked everywhere to see if there was more damage that she didn’t see. She didn’t calm down until Y/n held her hand and said, “It’s just a cut on my arm Wands. I’m going to be fine.” 

Wanda helped her up and walked with Y/n through the Colosseum back to their shared room. She immediately went to their first aid kit hidden in a compartment behind their pantry and grabbed all the necessary bandages and sterilization. 

Y/n sat at her bed staring at the cut that was slowly losing blood. “I don’t think it’s deep, thankfully. God that fucker just had to hire somebody.” Wanda grabbed a chair nearby and sat near Y/n’s arm. This was the first time Y/n had needed any type of bandage in their time at the arena. She didn’t want to show it, but it was scary. 

Back then, Wanda was the one to have gotten all the bruises and cuts before Y/n properly trained her. Nowadays, the two hardly have to use the first aid kit at all. 

As Wanda continued to stitch, Y/n noticed Wanda’s shaky hands. “Do you need me to get someone else? It’s okay if you can’t do it, Wanda.” 

“No!” Wanda hadn’t meant to yell but something about this was different. Afraid to say anything more, Y/n remained quiet as Wanda continued to stitch. Once it was done and Y/n was bandaged, Wanda was finally able to breathe again. The ringing in her ears finally stopped. She could feel her senses coming back to her. “Thank you,” Y/n said. 

“You’re welcome.” Wanda placed the first aid back into its hiding spot and got ready for bed. 

Night came and Y/n was quick to sleep while Wanda was wide awake. She laid on her side, paying attention to Y/n’s breathing. Logically she knew that it was just a cut and that nothing bad was going to happen to Y/n. But her heart just couldn’t stop worrying. 

It was then and there that Wanda knew that if Y/n died so would she. 

<|>

A batch of new kids arrived at Acrux. It was a mix of older kids at a range of 15-17. Wanda never had enemies this whole time she had been in the arena, which was only a year and seven months. That was until Emma had arrived. 

She was the same age as Wanda and Y/n. Nothing was special with her until she showed just how good she was at fighting. During her first match, she had beaten Y/n’s record of defeating an opponent in under a minute by a second. 

Emma came out of the arena without a single bruise or scratch. Wanda noticed this but she also noticed that Y/n did too. Wanda was never the type to worry about her place with Y/n, after all, they were partners. But it was the way she noticed Y/n watching Emma that something inside her triggered. 

For now, Wanda let the anger and worry remain inside her. “This will pass,” she thought. But it didn’t. 

Y/n and Wanda were sparing like normal when Y/n brought up the news. “Emma asked me to train her.” The confession caused Wanda to be distracted, allowing Y/n to disarm her with one swoop. 

“What did you tell her?” Wanda asked, ignoring that she was easily defeated in that small moment of distraction.

“That I only train with you.” Wanda released the breath she was holding. She picked up her sword and continued practice like normal. 

Wanda was on the way to dinner when she noticed Emma talking to Y/n again. The visceral rage that grew inside Wanda within a second could have destroyed everyone in her path. But she remained composed and hid nearby. 

It wasn’t that Wanda didn’t trust Y/n. She simply didn’t trust Emma. 

“I don’t understand why you only train with Wanda,” Emma huffed out. She knew that she and Y/n would work well together seeing as they’re part of the rare bunch that actually know how to fight on their own. 

“It’s not something you have to understand. I only train with Wanda. No amount of bargaining will change that.” Emma rolled her eyes at Y/n’s stubbornness. 

“Are you two dating or something?” Wanda’s heart dropped at the question. No one had ever asked her if she was dating Y/n. But that was something she never knew to be thankful for. Her face felt hot and her chest beat like crazy at the mere thought of someone asking her that. 

Wanda would never outright admit that maybe there were some lingering thoughts here and there about Y//n. But this was Acrux and all she could focus on was leaving this planet at age 18 hoping she could find her parents and twin brother.

But here she was, waiting anxiously for Y/n’s response. As if there was some secret she unfortunately wasn’t aware of. Maybe they were dating and she never knew till now. They were partners but does that mean more? 

“No…we’re not,” Y/n answered with some hesitancy. Wanda felt her heart plummet. She hadn’t meant to cry, but tears started falling. “Why am I crying? I already knew we weren’t dating,” she thought. 

There was no point in asking questions. Not when her heart knew…Wanda had fallen for Y/n. 

<|>

Wanda was 17 when she confessed her feelings to Y/n. Emma had been on Acrux for only five months and in those five months, she had constantly made moves on Y/n. Each time, Y/n had denied her offers. 

The more Emma pressed for clearer answers, the more Y/n walked away. And while Y/n would never admit it, Emma suspected that Y/n had feelings for Wanda. 

It was midnight. Wanda was asleep when she was woken up again by Y/n. Turning over, she slowly opened her eyes to a candle and a small cake. “Happy Birthday Wands,” Y/n whispered. “Make a wish.” 

She sat up and held the plate holding the cake. She thought about her wish for a second before blowing out her candle. “What did you wish for?” 

For months, Wanda had been wanting to confess to Y/n. There were multiple times during training, lunch, or even while they hung out that she had wanted to confess. None of them felt like the right time. There was never a right time according to Wanda. 

But it was the way that Y/n had looked at Wanda the whole time as if she was the only girl in the world. Maybe it was her imagination but God Wanda wanted to believe it so badly. And who was she to deny this anymore? 

Unable to hold back the urge, Wanda placed the plate down on her bed as she sat up to grab Y/n by the neck and kissed her. When Y/n did not kiss back immediately, Wanda broke it, afraid that she had messed up the most important thing to her. “I’m so sor-”

Y/n didn’t wait for Wanda to finish as she cupped her cheeks and kissed her back. There was nothing to deny anymore. Not when her knees felt like they could buckle at any moment. Not when the feeling in her chest grew with enticement. 

The desperation in each kiss grew as Y/n sat on Wanda’s bed leading to Wanda to crawl on Y/n’s lap. It felt passionate at first but quickly grew messy after each kiss.  Hardly coming up for air, Wanda grabbed the hair near Y/n’s neck and made a fist of it, unintentionally causing Y/n to moan. 

Feeling Y/n’s hands wrapped around her ass, Wanda moaned as well. She needed this girl more than anyone else in the world. And so be it if Wanda needed air, she needed Y/n more. Y/n broke their kiss, her eyes dilated with lust. While slightly heaving, Y/n confessed, “If you want me Wanda, I’m yours. Only yours.” 

“Show me then.” 

<|>

Y/n turned 18 two months after Wanda’s birthday. Although Wanda was eligible to leave, she stayed, not wanting to leave her girlfriend behind.

They were packing their things up, only carrying the basic necessities before completely leaving the Colosseum. They headed to the landing docks, waiting for the next transportation to arrive when a black spaceship, decked out with the Aetos family logo, arrived.

“Wanda let's go,” Y/n said as she tugged on Wanda’s hand. “That’s not our ride, dekta.” 

“Do you trust me?” Confused by the question, Wanda answered with, “Of course.” 

“Then let's go.” Not wanting to argue anymore, Wanda followed Y/n onto the ship. As soon as they went in, the doors closed, immediately lifting off. A droid entered the main area and stated, “Welcome back Master Y/n. Let me grab your things.” Y/n reached out with their things in her hand. As the droid grabbed their items, Wanda was perplexed at how the droid knew Y/n. “Master? Why did he call you master?” 

There was a worried look on Y/n’s face. The burden she had been carrying for three years was finally going to be free. “I need you to sit down Wanda.” 

“I’m not gonna sit down until you tell me the truth. Why did that droid call you master?” Wanda anxiously waited for Y/n’s response. Nothing was making sense and every single second without the truth only agitated Wanda even more. 

Y/n sighed. There was no way to hide from this. Wanda deserved to know the truth. 

“It’s because he’s my droid. My family gave him to me as a gift for my 5th birthday.”��

“Stop fucking around Y/n. There’s more to this story. Why are we on this ship?!” Wanda crossed her arms, unhappy with the secrets. 

“Before I tell you, I need you to know that I was only able to tell you once I turned 18. Had I told you before then, it would have cost me my life.” There was no response from Wanda, causing Y/n to stress even more. She sat down and continued, “My name is Y/n Aetos. I’m the eldest daughter of the Aetos family.” 

Wanda’s face dropped. “You’re lying. Please tell me you’re lying.” Tears came down Y/n’s face as she shook her head no. 

“This whole time you’ve been lying to me! I told you everything! I gave you every single part of me that was vulnerable just for you to be lying this whole time about who you are!” 

“Hear me-”

“I don’t want to hear it. Get me off this ship now!” Y/n got up and walked to Wanda. But for every step, Wanda stepped back. It was obvious that Y/n was hurt by the reaction. 

“Bab-”

“Don’t you dare call me that,” Wanda snarled. The love of her life had not only betrayed her but was the very reason she was in Acrux in the first place. “If you don’t get me off this ship right now, I will crash it into the nearest planet.” 

There was no point in calling out her bluff. Y/n knew that even if Wanda had tried, she would be unsuccessful. But that was not a route she was willing to take. Not when it came to her. 

“I will give you everything you want - you want off of this ship? Fine. But please let me explain myself.” Before Wanda could disagree, Y/n continued, “I was only 15 when my parents said I had to go to a planet of their choosing and survive until I was 18. It was a long-standing part of our family tradition. Those that survive lead well and those that fail never get to see another day again.” Wanda saw the pained expressions on Y/n’s face as she relieved through the harsh memories. 

“A chip was planted inside my neck on my 15th birthday that forbade me to ever say what my bloodline was. I could only go by my years of training and knowledge. Had I told you, the chip inside me would have blown up within an instant.” 

“No one in this galaxy besides my masters and servants knows what I looked like. For the very reason that if I don’t survive until I’m 18, they simply would not want their precious kingdom to know that I was a failure.” 

There was silence as Y/n pleaded for Wanda to look at her. When she didn’t, Y/n continued to silently cry. This was the day she got back her freedom but at what cost? 

Finally, Wanda spoke up, “Why did you have to rope me into this? I was fine by myself. Was it all a trick to you?” 

Shaking her head no, Y/n confessed, “I knew strategically that if I had someone to rely on then my odds of surviving would increase. In the beginning, you were someone I only looked at as a companion, an ally.” 

“It wasn’t until the day you almost died that everything had changed for me.”

Wanda remembered that day clearly. A bull had managed to stab her straight in the stomach after failing to dodge the attack. Causing her to bleed out in the arena. Thankfully it was a 2v2 match and Y/n was her partner. 

“I had never killed something as fast as that day. When I saw you bleeding, I- I-,” Y/n cupped her mouth to suppress a sob. That was one of the worst days of her life. “I used all my winnings and favors that day to save you. And I didn’t even know then if you were going to survive.” 

Wanda was surprised at the tears falling down her eyes. She didn’t know when it started but it didn’t stop. 

“So when you did, I vowed that I was going to get you out…even if it had cost me my life.” Y/n wiped the tears from her face. Wanda had finally decided to look at Y/n and was heartbroken at the sight. 

“So when you kissed me on your 17th birthday, I knew you were the one for me. It was selfish of me to have you to myself but you are my reason to live Wanda.” Y/n took one more step to Wanda. And when she didn’t back up, she walked even closer. 

“I did not mean to have fallen in love with you. And I certainly did not mean for you to have fallen in love with me.” Y/n cupped Wanda's cheeks and wiped her tears away. “And I’m sorry it was me that you’ve fallen for because you deserve better Wanda.” 

“Did you even want to tell me?” 

“More than you will ever know.” 

“What does this mean for us?” Y/n hardly felt scared in life. It was the way she grew up that if you were to be scared, you would be just like the weak. But today, Y/n felt scared not knowing what the future had for her and Wanda. 

“I will not force you to stay. But if you choose to go…just know my heart will always belong to you.” 

<|>

Two weeks have gone by since Wanda chose to leave Y/n. It was not an easy decision to make. Even her dreams constantly haunt her,  reminding her of the heartbroken face Y/n had when she left. But Wanda could not stay knowing what the Aetos family had done to the galaxy. 

True to her promise, Y/n did not force Wanda to stay. Instead, she used her family’s database to try and find the last rumored location of the Maximoff family. 

“It appears your brother has been in hiding according to these latest reports. He’s currently in the Andromeda fighting against the Blackbar army takeover.” Y/n wiped away her last tears as she moved from the holographic map to a storage unit on the other side of the room. She grabbed a backpack full of equipment, extra water, and a weapon that was in Wanda’s skillhouse. 

Y/n walked back to Wanda and gave her all the items. She tried her best to appear strong for what Wanda chose. “Here are all the items you could need. Inside the backpack is armor, food, water, and a tent. You’ll need to be careful as the armor has my family’s signet on it. Any person who will see it will automatically assume you're the enemy. The first thing you need to do is get rid of it. Take sap from the thick trees that inhabit Andromeda. It should help get rid of the logos.”

Y/n looked around the room for one last item and gave it to Wanda. “And here,” Y/n said while handing it out. “What is this?”

“A beacon. Right now, no location of it exists. But as soon as you press this red button, it’ll alert me of your location. If you ever need help, just press this button and I’ll be there for you. However, it will only be me who comes to your aid. I can’t send troops without my parents knowing about my actions. For now, I think it’s best if we avoid that.” 

“Master Y/n, we’ve landed in Andromeda.” Y/n nodded and looked at the back doors opening revealing the jungle. The hot atmosphere quickly invaded the inside of the plane. There was no clearing in sight as tall trees surrounded them. 

Y/n walked Wanda to the edge of the plane before stopping. “I hope you find your family Wanda.” 

Wanda didn’t know what to say. Instead, she gave Y/n a strong hug before walking away. At the last minute, Wanda turned around to see the door closing. She glanced at Y/n’s face to see a tear fall. 

“I hope to never see you again Wanda Maximoff,” Y/n thought, “You were the best part of my life.”

In an instant, the ship was gone and Wanda was alone again. 

<|>

Wanda was alone in the woods when Pietro had found her. She was preparing for the night as she took off her armor. No logos appeared on it. Wanda had followed Y/n’s advice by immediately removing any signet bearing the Aetos family logo. 

Preparing her tent, she was ambushed by a team. In seconds, soldiers came out from their hiding spots, pointing their guns directly at her. “It was calculated,” Wanda thought as there was no chance for her to attack back. They had been watching for a while now and she barely felt it. Wanda felt stupid but could hardly blame herself. She was exhausted and hungry. 

Wanda heard the leaves behind her ruffle as their Captain spoke, “Who are you?” Wanda waited for them to circle in front of her. She didn’t need to startle any of the team fearing that they might shoot at any sudden movements. 

“My name is Wanda Ma-,” before she could finish her sentence she came eye to eye with someone who looked very familiar. “Pietro?!” 

Pietro was stunned at the girl that knew his name. He got on high alert. He aimed his blue saber at her and almost demanded more information but the terrified look on Wanda’s face stopped him in his tracks. “Wanda?” 

Pietro retracted his saber and hugged his twin sister. “You’re here…you’re finally here.” Wanda hugged back, almost afraid to believe that he was right there. 

“We need to get you back to safety,” Pietro stated as he rounded up his men. “There are so many things I need to tell you but right now let's pack up your stuff and get back to my base. Night in Andromeda is not safe.” 

<|>

Pietro led Wanda back to a village in the trees. Many huts were placed high above the ground and all were connected by wooden bridges that allowed for easier travel. “This is my home,” Pietro said as they walked through the door. “I’ll let you freshen up in the bathroom. In the meantime, I’ll prepare us dinner.” 

Wanda walked into the bathroom and noticed all the dirt and sap that covered her face and armor. She quickly undressed herself and practically moaned at the feeling of hot water. After she finished washing herself, Wanda got dressed in some fresh clothes that Pietro laid out. 

“Dinners ready!” Pietro yelled from the kitchen. Wanda walked out of the bathroom and placed her armor near the front of the house, not wanting to get Pietro’s place dirty. Once she got near the kitchen, she could smell the richness of the meal, instantly making her stomach grumble with delight. “Dig in.” 

Wanda sat across Pietro and served herself a portion of the meal. They both ate in silence as Wanda devoured the food in front of her. It was hard to survive in Andromeda when she knew little of what could kill her or not. 

“Do you like it?” Wanda nodded in agreement as she stuffed herself. “That’s good to hear. I’ve been working on my cooking skills whenever I have free time.” 

Wanda ate a couple more bites before asking, “Are you a captain of sorts? It seemed like those soldiers responded to your commands.” 

“I am. Although there’s not much official order around here, I have managed to get respected enough to be followed as a captain.” Pietro collected their dishes and placed them in the sink. 

“Let’s talk more in the living room.” As Wanda and Pietro sat on the couch, Wanda was quick to ask, “Do you have any clue on where our parents are?” With a solemn smile, Pietro said, “Our parents are..away.” 

“What do you mean?” Pietro sighed as he readjusted his position, “Let me start from the beginning.”

Pietro cleared his throat, “During the invasion, the Aetos family had packed all the younglings on a ship. We were supposed to be sent to Acrux but my ship had crash-landed in Andromeda. Thankfully, there was a village nearby that helped all of us out and took us in.”

“For weeks, I tried my best to find a way to get back home. It wasn’t until I got access to our family’s money that someone listened to me.”

“They provided me with transportation back but once I arrived, it was like a different place Wanda. Within those weeks, the empire of Barlowe had taken over everything. It was like a planet that housed thousands of soldiers for miles.”

“I tried my best to get intel on what happened. Fortunately enough, the few native people left told me everything.” Pietro reached out and grabbed Wanda’s hand. “An invasion from the Barlowe empire happened. They disguised themselves as the Aetos family to manipulate the rest of the galaxy into thinking that they were taking over.” 

“They relocated all the children to many different places. As for the adults, those that weren’t captured fled and those that were captured had to work for the empire.” 

“I tried sneaking into one of their bases to find more intel on our parents but all I could find was that they weren’t captured and were in hiding. The next thing I did was look for you in the system but nothing about you popped up. I wanted to find out more but I didn’t know how. So I flew back to Andromeda and have been living here with the other kids from Fornia.” 

Wanda sat there and tried her best to take all of it in. “Do you think they’re still alive?” Pietro sighed once more as there were countless times he thought of finding them. “I wish they were but it’s been three years and none of the other kids have a clue on where their parents are at. We kind of stopped holding on to hope of seeing our parents again when the Blackbar army started their invasion on Andromeda a couple of months ago.” 

“What’s stopping you from fleeing?” Wanda was desperate to cling on to Pietro. The fact that he was still alive gave Wanda some hope that her parents were also alive. 

Pietro looked away as he glanced at the window showcasing the village. “In the three years I’ve been here, I’ve managed to find myself people that I trust and care about. In turn, they look to me to help defend Andromeda from this takeover. I know I could still flee using our family’s money, but where would I go? Invasions are happening all around the galaxy.” Pietro was momentarily lost in his thoughts as he remembered all the times he desperately wished his family would rescue him. 

“Not only that, there’s this girl that I’ve grown feelings for. She’s been with me since we crashed here. And I don’t have the heart to leave her.” Although Wanda wanted to feel disappointed in Pietro’s decision to stop looking for their parents, she too knew the feeling of not being able to leave without Y/n. She reminisced for a few moments before focusing back on the conversation.  

“There is more that I need to tell you but could you tell me what it’s been like for you?” 

With a heavy heart, Wanda sighed, “Where do I even start?” 

<|>

“How did we even get to this point?” Wanda questioned as she fought her best to stay conscious. Dry blood ran down her face, her hands were tied behind her back, and a gag was placed in her mouth. Pietro was passed out in the cell across from her, tied up in the same manner. 

The twins were barely united for two weeks before Blackbar’s army sent reinforcements to further the invasion of Andromeda. Pietro was stuck in the front lines along with Wanda who refused to leave his side. The village barely was able to make a dent in the enemy’s forces before being captured. 

That was three days ago and now the majority of the village was stuck in a cell each being tortured for information. “Get up,” the guard demanded as they opened Wanda’s cell. She proceeded to scream and kick the best she could, causing Pietro to wake up. 

“Let go of her!” He screamed into his gag. “Get the boy as well.” The guard had enough of Wanda’s theatrics and punched her in the face causing her to pass out from all the pain. They dragged the twins to the control area where the leader of the operations was, dropping them in the middle of the room. “Are you idiots? I need them awake.”

“Yes, sir.” Grabbing the syringe, the guards injected Wanda and Pietro with a serum that would help them stay awake. “Remove their gags.” 

Stirring awake, Wanda groaned in pain. Nothing in Acrux had compared to this aching feeling throughout her body. If she had the energy, she would have screamed from how much pain she was feeling. “Wanda Maximoff, just the girl we need. According to our intel, you were on Acrux around the same time a certain Aetos was inhabiting the planet.” 

Wanda was barely conscious as she saw General Tullius grab a knife and hold it to Pietro’s neck. “Tell me what you know or your brother is going to die.” Wanda’s eyes widened, “Please don’t!” She thrashed in her bindings as tears fell from her eyes. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know but please let him go.” 

“Wanda don’t-”

“Silence! If you want to live, I suggest you cooperate.” Pietro froze as the knife was pressed deeper into his throat. 

“General Tullius,” a different soldier entered the room with Wanda’s backpack in hand. “Here are the girl’s items.” General Tullius grabbed the bag and looked through it. The only thing that caught his eye was the small remote. 

He dropped the bag and observed it. “Tell me Ms. Maximoff, what does this do?” Wanda held her breath at the very thing that could save them. “Don’t press it,” she begged. He didn’t listen and pressed it anyway. He looked around and felt nothing happen. “It’s useless anyways - come with me now, you have information to share.”

“As for you,” General Tullius sliced Pietro’s throat as Wanda Maximoff screamed in horror, witnessing her only sibling die in front of her. 

<|>

Hours have gone by and Wanda has not given any information to the General. All she could focus on was the blood on the floor where Pietro’s dead body was once. 

“If you can’t provide me with the information, I will find someone who can,” General Tullius spat at Wanda. There was a different type of evil in his eyes. Only hot anger lay behind them. Which meant one thing, General Tullius was sent here to prove something, something his superior doubted. And any loss meant more than likely his life. 

Tired and barely clinging on to her life, Wanda prayed and pleaded with all her might that Y/n would come soon. But as minutes went by, her hope waned. Y/n could be anywhere in the galaxy, probably back with her family, which could be light-years away. How could Wanda believe that she’d drop everything to come? “God, please…please send me help.” 

“Sir, an unmarked ship is heading directly for us. How would you like to respond?” 

“Take it down!” General Tullius could not bother with the inconveniences as he headed back to Wanda. Before he could hurt her again, explosions rattled the building followed by the blaring alarm system. 

“What the?” More artillery exploded. A shiver ran down General Tullius. He could feel the raw power that landed in his fortress. The force inside him could feel that this was only one person but someone not to mess with. 

“Turn on the cameras! They’re inside the building.” Wanda paid attention to all the chaos. She could see the panic run through General Tullius. This was someone above his skill level, someone powerful. 

The camera feed played for everyone in the headquarters to see. A dark figure with all-black armor walked through the hallways. No effort was exerted as this figure force choked the troops in her way. The raw power caused the camera feed to go black as the lights flickered out. 

“What’s happening?! Give me a different angle now!” The officer did as told and tried their best to provide a different camera angle. In a different room, a new wave of troopers prepared for the enemy. Everyone could easily hear the terrifying screams coming from the other side of the door. 

“Hold,” the commander stated. The building shook as the door crunched slowly. Soon it was pulled off its hinges. No one could see what was happening. 

A bloody body came crawling out of the shadows, “Please…kill…me.” A trooper tried to reach out but the body was merely dragged out of sight. Soon, the rumble of a lightsaber was heard. The red color illuminated the shadow of the figure. “Fire!” 

Red lasers fired their way. None touched the figure. One was purposely deflected to hit the camera inside. The feed went to black and General Tullius knew what he was facing. 

Wanda almost smiled in delight at the scared look on General Tullius’s face. “It’s Y/n,” she thought. The General gathered all officers and troopers to aim at the door. “We need to be on lockdown! Now!” 

“That would never be enough,” Wanda thought. But the injuries were adding up, she could feel herself needing to sleep. Soon, she saw the door fly off its hinges, crushing the majority of those who guarded it. The smoke and alarms were too much to process. Wanda fainted from the pain. The last thing she saw was the color red. 

<|>

Not much time had passed before Wanda woke up. Everyone in the room was already dead besides General Tullius. The saber in his stomach was hard to miss. 

“My family’s name is carried through the innocents we kill, the horrors children sing, and the people we control,” Y/n’s helmet unveiled to show her face. The glow of her lightsaber made her eyes appear red with madness. Inch by inch, she pushed her saber further and further, wanting the burning sensation to feel like an eternity.

“Your death will be meaningless compared to the thousands of generals we’ve killed.” General Tullius felt his blood start to boil, the heat coming from the lightsaber was burning him inside out. “Your men will forever remember the day I single-handedly slaughtered them to the masses.” His blood started to spill out of his eyes, mouth, and nose. No words could escape as he continued to scream in horror. 

“And you will never know a day of peace as I will chase you in hell for all the crimes you’ve committed against her.” Y/n flicked her arm, slicing the general in half. The smell of his flesh burning was almost too much for Wanda to handle as she looked away. She could hear the body drop to the ground as the room soon became quiet. 

Y/n surveyed the room of her damages. Many troops lay dead all because of one call. But this was who Y/n was. The daughter of the most evil family in the world. And Wanda so happens to be the person she loved. 

Y/n retreated her lightsaber back to its hilt and clipped it onto her belt. She removed her helmet and slowly walked towards Wanda. Bruises were covering Wanda’s body as well as some dried blood coming from her forehead. The sight made Y/n choke in anger but she remained composed. 

“Wanda?” Y/n called out, hoping to not scare her off. This was a side that Wanda had never seen before. The killings in the Colosseum were mandatory. It was always the opponent you were against but this. This was different. Y/n killed mercilessly without hesitation. No one could even beg to live another day before she killed them off. This was the part of Y/n that held the Aetos family name. This was the evil that surrounded and consumed Y/n. 

There were a couple of feet between them when Wanda spoke up and said, “You killed them all.” Wanda looked around, unable to cope with how much death surrounded her in just one instance. “I know my love.” Y/n didn’t move any closer, allowing Wanda to process. “I’m sorry I took so long…are you okay?” 

When Wanda looked into Y/n’s eyes, she no longer saw the person she had just seconds ago. Here was the Y/n she fell in love with. The one that made sure she was okay at the end of the day. The one that would give up her food to make sure she ate. The one that would kiss away all the pain from being on Acrux. The one that just knew her. 

Wanda ran back into Y/n’s arm where everything clicked. She felt safe, wanted, and loved in her arms. Nothing would ever harm her here. Tears ran down Wanda’s face, exhaustion creeping up on her. “Everything is going to be okay my love, I promise.” Y/n continued to murmur soft affirmations, hoping it would calm Wanda down. 

“You don’t have to explain anything to me right now, but let’s get you somewhere safe.” Wanda nodded in agreement as Y/n wiped her tears away. Hand in hand, they walked out of the base without any interruptions. 

<|>

There was a small fire near the ship that Y/ n prepared. Using the force, she gathered two decent-sized logs to use as makeshift chairs. Heading back outside, Y/n held a pot filled with her meat soup recipe. She hooked it over the fire and stirred. Feeling satisfied with it, she sat next to Wanda who was finally bandaged up. 

“You look different,” Wanda commented. “Is that a good or bad thing?” Wanda took a decent look at Y/n. She still had the scar on her eye but her face looked more sharp and her skin was more tan. There was this slight glow surrounding her. 

“I would say good.” Y/n hummed in satisfaction. Hearing the soup boil, she prepared two bowls. “Here you go, Wanda. Be careful, it’s hot.” Wanda held the warm bowl and started to blow air towards it. Wanda grabbed the extra spoon from Y/n’s hand. The smell coming from the bowl was to die for. Not only that, Wanda was desperate for a warm home-cooked meal. Wanda didn’t wait for the soup to simmer to start eating. Together they ate in silence like old times. 

When they were done, Y/n gathered the dishes and headed back inside the ship. She placed them inside the washer and walked back outside. It was nighttime now and Andromeda had the clearest view of the sky. “Have you taken a look at the sky?” 

“It was one of the first things I noticed after we parted ways. Even though it’s been six months, I’ve always been blown away. It almost feels like I can reach all the stars in the sky.” Wanda held her hand out as she examined the sky, imagining what it would feel like to have it in the palm of her hand. 

Y/n laid down beside Wanda. They each had their own sleeping bag. “The stars looked different here compared to my home planet.” 

“What is it like?” 

“Well, my planet is mainly full of cloudy skies. I don’t go outside often enough since my home is underwater.” Wanda turned on her side to face Y/n. She was surprised at the new information since they never got to speak about Y/n's true life. 

“Why is your home underwater? Do you not have land to build on?” Y/n shook her head in disagreement. “We do have land but mainly use it for decoy purposes. Our true city lies at the bottom of the ocean. While we don’t quite have stars in the sky, the surrounding coral and fish are a different site to see.” 

“Did you miss your family?” Wanda didn’t know where the courage to ask these questions came from. Mainly, she had wanted to distract herself from the events before. 

“I did. When they saw my course for home, they called me to tell me they were proud of me.” Y/n thought for a moment before admitting, “I did miss you more though.” Y/n looked at Wanda. Not knowing what to say, Wanda gave her a small smile. 

“I know I said I’ll give you time, but I need to know what you want to do after this.” 

“I don’t have a clue right now.” It scared Wanda to know she had no plan. For the past three years, all she could focus on was coming back home to her family. It was foolish to believe that everything was going to be fine after three years, that they could go back to the way it was. But sadly, she couldn’t. 

“Do you want to come home with me?” 

“I-,” Wanda cut herself off after remembering all the tall tales of the Aetos family. “I know my family’s reputation scares you but I promise you there is nothing to be afraid of. I’ll be there to protect you. Not only that, I have a separate condo in the city. You can stay there as long as you like until you figure out what your plan is.” 

Wanda was silent for a moment. Too much change was happening in such a short amount of time. It was almost too much for Wanda to handle. But as she looked at Y/n’s pleading eyes, she couldn’t help but say, “You better protect me.” 

“I cross my heart.” 

<|>

“We’re on course to my home planet Vernak,” Y/n shouted from the cockpit. She flicked a couple more switches before setting the ship on autopilot. Y/n walked back to the main area of the small ship to find Wanda in deep thought. 

“I can set it for a longer route if you need more time to think.” Wanda broke out of her thoughts and smiled at Y/n. “It’s okay,” Wanda sighed, “As long as you’re protecting me, then anything is better than being captive again.” 

Y/n knelt in front of Wanda and slowly intertwined their hands. “Don’t be afraid to talk to me. I know that it’s been a lot of change since we left Acrux but I’m still the Y/n you know, the one that will never let anyone hurt you again.” 

Wanda wanted to believe Y/’s words. There was still a large part of Y/n that she never knew about and that terrified her. “How do I know that I won’t get hurt on Vernak?” 

“I’ll die before I let anyone hurt you, Wanda,” Y/n said with all seriousness. “I know you’ve seen me fight back in Acrux. That part of me only had access to my knowledge and not my powers.” 

Wanda’s eyebrows furrowed. “You have powers?” Y/n chuckled. “Wrong choice of words but I am force sensitive. I’m a Jedi.” 

“That explains why you have that lightsaber,” Wanda pointed to the lightsaber that was clipped to Y/n’s belt. “Yeah, it’s my preferred choice of weapon but I wasn’t allowed to have it when I was on Acrux.” 

The cockpit’s alarm signaled that they were close to Vernak. “We’ll have to strap in now for landing, but I do have to ask you a favor.” 

“What is it?” Y/n let go of Wanda’s hands and grabbed the blindfold from her pocket. She placed the item into Wanda’s hands. “I need you to trust me and put this on. I’m not binding you or anything, but when we enter Vernak, I need you to be blindfolded for it.” 

“Can I ask why?” Y/n gave a small smile, “I’ll explain more when we land. No more secrets, I promise.” Wanda felt reluctant to follow Y/n’s rules but as they sat back in the cockpit and buckled in, she did as told and blindfolded herself. “No more secrets,” she thought to herself. 

<|>

The ship floated above Y/n’s condo, allowing the two to be teleported into her home. The sensation made Wanda’s stomach queasy as she straightened her posture again. “We’ve arrived. You can take your blindfold off now.” 

Y/n walked away to the kitchen, hungry from the journey. “You must be hungry so I’ll cook us something. Is there anything in particular you want to eat?” 

Wanda removed the blindfold and was stunned by her surroundings. She didn’t know what to expect when it came to her ex-girlfriend’s condo, but it surely wasn’t this. 

There was slick black furniture with brown accents that filled the medium sized condo. Various framed photos were displayed on one wall, the biggest one being a family painted portrait of the Aetos family. A large floor to ceiling bookshelf divided the living room and kitchen. And from what Wanda could tell, many of the books involved war and culture. 

What captured Wanda’s attention the most was the view of the city. Ignoring Y/n’s question, Wanda got up and walked to the window. A spectacular city lay before them. A handful of  skyscrapers were spread around the land. Small buildings stood in between as well as an intricate river that wove around the city. Various foliage hung from the side of the skyscrapers as well as the natural beauty on the ground. 

“What do you think?” Y/n stood by Wanda’s side, her hands behind her back. She couldn’t grasp what was going through Wanda’s head but the fascination in her eyes excited Y/n. 

“I think I’m in a dream.” Wanda followed various sky trams that zoomed through the city. The technological wonders were beyond what she expected. But the view, it was drop dead gorgeous how the sun was casting on Vernak. The place looked like heaven. 

Y/n smiled and looked back at Vernak. The view was something she never grew tired of. More than anything, it was what she dreamed of during her days in Acrux. There were multiple times that Y/n cried silently in her sleep thinking that she would never make it back home. But the thought of never making it back kept her alive. 

“If you’re up for it, we can walk around the block after you’re done eating.” Wanda looked at Y/n, almost forgetting about Pietro. But the weight of it all crumbled. 

Almost falling forward, Wanda hugged Y/n and sobbed into her neck. She couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. Everything changed and Wanda feared what was going to happen in her future. But as Y/n held her tightly while rubbing her back, whispering soft affirmations, Wanda knew she was safe. 

<|>

The night came and Wanda cried herself to sleep in Y/n’s arms after confessing the tragedies that happened on Andromeda. From the torture to Pietro’s death, Wanda didn’t leave a single detail out. The amount of pain that Wanda had gone through in such a short amount of time enraged the young Aetos daughter. 

All Y/n could think of was her broken promise to protect Wanda from all harm. Had she fought harder to stay with Wanda would she be in the same predicament? Had she managed a way to tell Wanda about her situation would she still be with Y/n? Had she been quicker to arrive at Andromeda would Pietro still be alive? 

Regardless of the what if’s, Y/n was unable to take Wanda’s pain away. Revenge was something that would come later, that was certain. But for now, Y/n would stay at Wanda’s side, doing anything and everything to take away Wanda’s pain. 

<|>

After a week of being cooped up in Y/n’s condo, Wanda decided today was the day to step out and explore. Although part of her still thought the view was a mere trick, she was learning to trust Y/n again. 

Dressed up in some of Y/n’s clothes, Wanda pushed past her anxiety and walked to the front of the condo where Y/n waited. “You look good.” Something about Wanda being in her clothes made Y/n feral, but the small comment was all she uttered. 

Wanda blushed and grabbed the rain coat hung up in the foyer as a distraction. “I think I have everything.” 

“Great, let’s head out.” As Y/n tried to open the door, Wanda grabbed Y/n’s free hand and intertwined their hands. Y/n looked back, trying not to panic at the gesture. “Don’t let go,” Wanda whispered, feeling vulnerable under Y/n’s gaze.

Not knowing if it was crossing boundaries, Y/n kissed Wanda’s hand in the same way she did back on Acrux. “Never.” 

<|>

“I don’t understand,” Wanda says as she looks around the bustling city. There easily could have been a hundred people just on this street alone. Everyone looked so at ease with life. “You’re not supposed to understand,” Y/n lightly commented. 

Several people walked past them, all acknowledging Y/n. They spoke at such ease that it perplexed Wanda. “Was this the same Aetos her planet feared? Was this an act?” She thought. None of it made any sense. 

Intrigued by one of the market stalls, Wanda let go of Y/n’s hand and walked towards it. The sight of fresh fruit and vegetables made her stomach grumble. “What would you like, miss?” Wanda slightly backed off and said, “I’m sorry. I don’t have any money on me.”

The worker grew confused at her response. “It’s free, ma’am.” Y/n slid to Wanda's side and grabbed two apples, a banana, and a mango . “I think this will be all for us Ethan. Are the crops still looking good in your region?” 

Ethan grabbed the items and placed them into a brown paper bag. 

“There are small issues with the implementation of our water system, but so far it’s been great. The new technology has been helping us be more efficient.” Y/n smiled in delight while grabbing the bag. “That’s good to hear. I’ll try to see if there’s anything I can do when it comes to the new system though. It should have been smooth sailing. But you have a good day now.” 

Y/n grabbed Wanda’s hand once more and looked around the city. There was so much that Y/n had wanted to show Wanda from the art district, business district, and culture district. However, it was only Wanda’s first day out. Not wanting to add to her anxiety, Y/n led Wanda on a small walk through the heart of the city. She gave her an apple and Wanda took in all the new sights. 

“I’m guessing you have questions.” Y/n grabbed the second apple and started to eat. 

“You think? None of this makes sense.” Every story she’d ever heard about the Aetos family was nothing but horror. The planet was to have hosted the worst criminals in the galaxy. So why does it look like a fairytale?  “Follow me. I have the perfect spot to explain everything to you.” 

Y/n led Wanda to the nearest sky tram. “Hold on-,” the tram flew up from the streets, causing Wanda to stumble back a little. Quick with her reflexes, Y/n reached out and grabbed Wanda by her waist. “-they tend to be fast,” Y/n said sheepishly. Wanda held on to the same pole as Y/n.

Soon, they arrived at a floating garden. It was high above the clouds which allowed Wanda to get a good view of the sunset. “Come on. I know a private spot.” Still holding Wanda by the waist, Y/n led them to a familiar spot near the edge of the garden. There was a seat that saw the view of the city below as well as the clouds that sat right on top of it. 

“Welcome to my hideout.” Y/n watched as Wanda looked around awestruck at the view surrounding them. Nearby plants looked to be taken care of yet no caretakers were in sight. “Do you take care of them?” Wanda asked as she touched one of the plants. 

“I try my best. I’ve recently been learning more about herbology and gardening to expand on my skills.” Y/n hadn’t meant to boast but she desperately carved for Wanda’s approval or affirmation. 

“You never told me that you wanted to try learning about plants.” Y/n shrugged. There was more she wanted to tell but was never allowed. “If you have the time, I can tell you everything you ever wanted to know about me.”

Wanda walked towards the seat and beckoned for Y/n to sit beside her. “I want to know first about the history of your planet because where are all the crimes and murderers that I used to hear about.” 

“If I tell you, you must promise not to tell a soul outside this planet. If you were to spread the truth about my home planet, many people could get hurt.” The seriousness in Y/n’s voice struck Wanda’s attention. 

“I promise.” 

“Good. I’m holding you to that Maximoff.” Wanda smiled at the lightness that surrounded Y/n. It was all too different from the stoic nature Y/n had back in Acrux. “Probably was trying her best to stay alive,” Wanda thought. 

“Vernak, as you may have thought it to be home of all murderers, rapists, and thieves was actually home to the very first runaways.” Y/n wiped a hologram into view to showcase a family photo of a father, mother, and two sons. “Dain and Elizabeth Aetos and their sons Cain and Christopher. These are my ancestors.” 

“They’re a beautiful family,” Wanda admired. “Dain was a Jedi Knight while Elizabeth was a senator. In a farther part of the galaxy, these two were not allowed to love due to the rules of being a Jedi Knight.” Y/n swiped to show articles stating that Jedis were not allowed to have any relationship. 

“The goal of any Jedi is to defend and protect. They’re like peacekeepers of the galaxy. If they were to get into relationships, it may lead to biases to protect that individual over another. So when Dain was caught, he fled with his wife to a different part of the galaxy.” 

Y/n showed a map to showcase how far of a journey the Aetos family had to endure to get away from the Jedi counsel. “They landed in Vernak and built a home for themselves. For a while, it was just them four living on an inhabited planet.” 

“One day, Dain had gotten word of another couple that was also in the same predicament as them. While he was scared to leave his family, Elizabeth understood the importance of saving this couple and encouraged him to go. It was a long journey and Dain did get injured from it but thankfully the husband had a medical background.” 

“What would have happened if they were caught?” Y/n looked into Wanda’s eyes and sighed. “Back then it was a different culture, but the Jedi would have been killed for breaking this rule. As for their partner, they typically get banished.”

“Your ancestors knew the consequences of loving each other and still did?” Wanda didn’t mean to appear like she was judging but losing your life over loving someone was a big punishment to possibly face. 

“I would’ve done the same to be with you.” 

There was hope in Y/n’s eyes that Wanda felt the same way still, but when she hadn’t answered, Y/n cleared her throat and continued with the story. “Ever since that day, the Aetos family declared that they would help any people that needed refuge in any type of way. They grew and grew and grew. However, the boys were now in their late 20’s and pointed out that if they continued to rescue people, they would get caught.” 

Y/n swiped to show an updated family photo of the Aetos family and this time, the boys were now grown men with wives in the picture. “On this eventful night in history, the Aetos family forged a plan to fabricate what Vernak was. They sent out loyal soldiers to neighboring planets to spread rumors that Vernak was an evil planet filled with the worst that mankind has ever seen.” 

“It took a long time but people started to believe it. Because of this lie, generations of people taught it to their children and their children and so on. In the meantime, we still rescued many of those that needed it. Vernak was the planet for the forbidden people, the runaways. We vow to protect those in need in the name of love.” 

Wanda took it all in as she watched the sunset go down and stars in the sky appear. “So this whole time, Vernak has been a thriving place full of culture and life? If you have an army, what’s the point of still lying to the galaxy?” 

Y/n sighed, preparing herself for the harsh truth. “We lie to protect our citizens. Some have ancestors that were supposed to have been beheaded had we not stepped in and helped. Others have families that are still hunted to this day. If word gets out that these people are alive, who knows how many soldiers would come to try and defeat us.” 

Y/n held Wanda’s hand, “We lie so that our people can live peacefully.” 

<|>

Two months have passed since Wanda had first arrived in Vernak. In the short amount of time, Wanda had managed to learn more about the planet’s history, army, politics, and culture. One of the biggest differences was obviously the lack of evil that the planet hosted. 

If anything, there was close to zero crime committed on the streets of Vernak. This marveled Wanda even more to learn how their legislation worked. With the help of Y/n, she attended several conferences where bills and laws were passed. 

The lack of arguing or fear mongering almost made Wanda uncomfortable. The palace had too much peace. Even her home planet had its fair share of power hungry people. So to see people work together to achieve the betterment of their people was odd to see. 

Right now, Wanda sat in her room, writing in her journal about the things she learned today when she heard the sound of the front door open. Closing her journal, Wanda walked out to the living room to see Y/n stripping off her royal attire. 

Wanda leaned up against the wall as Y/n sighed from the long day.  “How was your day?” 

Y/n looked up and smiled. “Rough. I had force training and it was more strenuous than usual.” Wanda walked towards Y/n and gave her a small hug.

Things were still unclear on what the two of them were. But having Wanda around was more than enough for Y/n. As for Wanda, she liked that Y/n never pressured her to talk. For now, things were okay. Pulling back from the hug, arms still around Y/n’s neck, Wanda said, “I cooked for you today.” 

Y/n held on to Wanda’s waist, a smirk on her face. “You did? You didn’t have to do that.” 

Wanda poked Y/n’s chest. “Nonsense. Plus, I managed to get the right ingredients. We’re having a proper Fornia dinner tonight. So dress nicely and you need a shower, you stink.”

With a light shove from Wanda, Y/n walked to her room with a laugh. “Yes ma’am.” 

<|>

After cleaning herself up, Y/n walked out her room in an all black attire. The savory aroma of the meal was the first thing Y/n noticed as she walked closer to the dim kitchen.

Once she entered, Y/n was awestruck at the sight of a candle lit dinner. “Woah,” she muttered under her breath. Before she walked any further, Wanda snuck behind Y/n and intertwined their hands. 

“You like?” Y/n looked back, ready to compliment the dinner, but the sight of Wanda in an all black skin tight dress stopped her. It was like everything in the room stopped as she took it all in. Wanda’s hair was curled to perfection and her makeup made Y/n’s heart leap. 

Mouth agape, Y/n took a step back, spun Wanda around. “I don’t think there’s enough words to describe how beautiful you are Wanda.” 

Wanda was thankful for the dim lights as she blushed under Y/n’s gaze. “I’d say you look handsome tonight.” Y/n led Wanda to her seat and helped push her in. 

“This looks so amazing Wanda. I can’t wait to eat it.” Y/n sat on the other side ready to dig in but Wanda’s longing gaze stopped her. “Are you okay Wands?” 

“I want to say something and you can’t interrupt me, okay?” Y/n shook her head in understandment. Wanda shook her nerves away as she reached out once again to hold Y/n’s hand. Meeting her half, Y/n held Wanda’s hand, giving her a comforting squeeze. 

“I first want to thank you for being here for me. These past two months have been such a whirlwind and having you here with me has been such a relief.” Wanda started to tear up, feeling her emotions get the best of her. 

“I know you must wonder what I’ve been wanting to do or what my plan for the future is and for the first month, I honestly didn’t know what I wanted.”  Wiping away a fallen tear, Wanda continued. “But living here in Vernak with you. It’s given me something to look forward to.” 

Y/n smiled softly. She gave Wanda another gentle squeeze knowing the girl had more to say. “I thought that my life was over the moment I landed in Acrux. But life led me to you. And suddenly, it felt like my life finally started.” 

“I know we don’t talk enough about my decision to leave you but I do want to say I’m so sorry.” The moment replayed in both of their heads and all Wanda could feel was regret. “I should’ve heard you out but instead I left.” 

“Wanda, darling, I don’t blame you for leaving.” The sympathetic look on Y/n’s face broke Wanda’s heart. Here she was apologizing but entirely, there was nothing to apologize for. Y/n always understood Wanda’s decision to leave. “You chose based on information we purposely crafted for generations. There was no way you could have known the truth about Vernak.” 

Wanda continued to cry at Y/n’s generosity, feeling even more guilty on her decision to leave. Hating the sight of Wanda crying, Y/n got up and squatted in front of her. She cupped her face and wiped the tears away. “I wish I never left you.” 

Y/n’s heart dropped at the whispered confession. This was the first time that Wanda had remotely ever admitted anything like that. In turn, Y/n admitted, “I wish I stayed.” 

Vulnerability was something Y/n was hardly taught to give. It could lead to death, abandonment, or betrayal. But every single time Y/n chose to be vulnerable, it was for Wanda and no one else. 

“Do you think…” Wanda looked into Y/n’s eyes as she choked back her tears, “...if I were to ask for another chance…what would you say?” 

Y/n thought about it for a moment before saying, “I’d give you a thousand chances if it meant to be with you again.” 

Unable to hold herself back, Wanda leaned in for a kiss, hoping that Y/n could feel just how much she missed her. Hoping that it would be enough to apologize for all the countless lies she believed in. Hoping that she can prove to Y/n once more that she’d never leave again. 

And as Y/n deepened the kiss, tasting Wanda’s tears, she prayed that the only girl she’s ever loved will understand that no matter what, she will always choose her.

<|>

Evil was something Wanda hardly associated Y/n with. After a year of living on Vernak, she could only see the good Y/n and her family have done for the people. So when Y/n came home from a rough day at the palace, Wanda’s love changed. 

She sat at their shared bed when she heard the front door open and close. “I’m over here dekta!” It took Y/n a long time to get to their bedroom, a long look was on her face when she arrived. 

Immediately noticing that something was wrong, Wanda closed her book and opened her arms. With no words, Y/n fell into Wanda’s arms. The feeling of being with her instantly relaxed the young Aetos. 

For a while, the two laid in bed, tangled in each other's arms before Y/n spoke up. “Something happened today and I…I don’t know how to handle it.” 

Wanda ran her hand through Y/n’s hair, trying her best to comfort her girlfriend. She pressed a small kiss on Y/n’s temple before saying, “You can tell me dekta. I’m all ears.” 

Y/n sighed, not knowing where to even start. “There was intel that came to the palace about a bounty hunter that managed to torture information about Vernak.” 

“We managed to get our hands on them but…” Y/n grimaced as she remembered. “...we had to kill them as well as the rest of the bounty hunters that they told.” Wanda could feel Y/n start to cry. 

“I know death is something I’m used to but these people were different. They were hired for all the wrong reasons in order to make ends meet. Many of them had families and now they’re probably waiting for them to come home.” 

Y/n slowly sat up as she wiped her own tears. Wanda followed suit and sat on Y/n’s lap. “I just- I hate the tough decisions we have to make. When things don’t feel as black and white, it makes me wonder if what we’re doing is good.” 

Y/n looked into Wanda’s eyes with fear. “It makes me wonder if I’m good enough for you.” 

Wanda frowned at the confession. “Don’t ever question that. There’s nothing in this world that will ever make me think that you’re not good enough for me.” Wanda gave Y/n a quick kiss, hoping to take away some of the pain her girlfriend was feeling. “Everything you do is to protect me and your people. There’s not a single day where I ever felt like you hurted people just to hurt. You and your family make the hard decisions in order for us to be safe.” 

“What if I told you we were evil?” Wanda looked at Y/n confused. 

“Dekta, we’ve been over this. Your family being evil is a lie.” Y/n almost felt guilty for how much Wanda cared for her. For if she were to see all the decisions being made, would she still stay? 

Y/n looked away, unable to meet Wanda’s eyes. “They unveiled today the final secret…our family has a long list of people turning to the dark side in order to make sure our country is protected. Even my father has admitted to tapping into that side of the force.” 

Y/n clenched her eyes, unable to forget the moment that electricity came out of her father’s hands. “The red lightsaber was one thing but having the powers of the dark side is another. I fear that if I’m not strong enough, I’ll succumb to the thoughts of the dark side.” 

“...I fear to be the person you hate.” 

Silence surrounded the room as Wanda stayed in deep thought. There were so many questions in her head but as Y/n slowly looked up, Wanda knew what to say. 

“Fear has controlled me before and it led me away from you. So listen when I say this, do not let fear make you believe that you will be destined for evil. The dark side is powerful but so are the emotions they feel. And as long as I’m here, I will never let evil succumb to you.”

Wiping away the remainder of her tears, Wanda finished with, “You are destined to be a great leader my love. Evil may linger in your genes but your heart shows me everything I need to know. And I will love you enough for the both of us to make you see that you are good.” 

Leaning in for one more kiss, Wanda would never call Y/n evil. 

<|>

Wanda and Y/n were 25 the night before their wedding. 

Wanda was looking out the balcony when she heard a knock at her door. It was close to midnight. “No one should be up,” she thought. The hologram displayed Y/n’s image and Wanda immediately opened the door. “What are you doing? You know it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.” 

Y/n chuckled at the superstition and entered anyway. “I wanted to see you. Today has been long without you.” Y/n jumped onto the bed, feeling exhausted. Wanda followed suit as she dimmed the lighting in the room. 

They got under the covers and laid next to each other. Face to face, Wanda asked, “I know something’s troubling you.” Y/n still had her eyes closed when she responded with, “And how do you know that my love?” 

“I have a gut feeling. Or maybe the force has connected us.” The thought was sincere. What if they were fated soulmates? “Plus, anytime I’m wide awake this late at night, you always seem to be in distress. So tell me what’s wrong dekta.”

Y/n sighed and snuggled into Wanda’s neck. Wanda started to play with Y/n’s hair, waiting for her to talk. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us…and I wanted to tell you something.” Y/n sat up, leaning on her arm for support as Wanda remained lying down on the bed. 

They held hands as Y/n added, “Loving me is hard.” Wanda frowned at the statement. “It’s something I’ve thought about a lot. And sometimes I doubt if this is the right path for you.” Feeling Y/n’s insecurities rise, Wanda sat up and cupped Y/n’s cheeks. “You are my path Y/n. There’s no doubt about that.” 

“You say that but tomorrow is our wedding. There’s no going back after that. You’re going to be stuck with me forever.” 

“You act as if that’s such a bad thing dekta.” Y/n sighed not knowing how to formulate her thoughts. “I chose you when I came back to you. I chose you again when I said yes to engaging you. And I will say yes once more tomorrow to have forever with you.” Wanda kissed Y/n long and hard. It almost made Y/n forget about her worries. 

Y/n rubbed Wanda’s arms hoping her thoughts wouldn’t sound too jumbled. “Choosing me then is different compared to choosing me tomorrow.” Y/n looked into Wanda’s eyes with all seriousness and declared, “If you choose to love me, you will love the very person this whole galaxy will be known to hate. The very sound of my name will not only bring assassins to kill me but armies to destroy me.” Y/n invaded Wanda’s space inch by inch. Tension building in their eyes and body. “If you choose me,” barely any space was between them now, “you will be with the person that will bring generations of families to death as the galaxy will go through its darkest times with me.” 

Evil lingered in Y/n’s eyes. The very eyes that Wanda had fallen for.

“If you choose me,” swallowing her pride, Y/n confessed, “they will hate you.” There was no going back, but Wanda was a smart girl. She knew the consequences of falling for an Aetos, yet there was always part of her that willingly went back each time. Like a drug, she couldn’t quit. 

What does it mean to fall in love with the person everyone hates? It meant seeing them for something else. A different side only special to you. It meant power beyond their control just to make sure you were safe. It meant that they would choose you versus the world every - single - time. 

“Do you choose me?” There was no pause, no hesitation when Wanda replied. Her heart and mind were already set ages ago. 

“...I do.”

<|>

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[xxtc-96xx]

Just a funny story that is a TFS reference... takes place before Shadowtwo arc.

Huey: WOOOLVERIIIIIINES! (fires a blast at the screaming Mochi Zombies) You can't touch me up here!

Mochi Zombie: We have Shadow Ball!

Huey: One of those does nothing!

Mochi Zombie: How about a hundred? (many Mochi Zombies are heard charging noises of their shadow balls)

Huey: (realizes that he's screwed) ...Wolverines?

(all Mochi Zombies open fire at Huey, who grunts and falls on the ground)

Mochi Zombie: All righty! Sh*t stomp on the little kid!

(All Mochi Zombies start charging at Huey and gets blown away by an unexpected ki blast. Cut to a shadowy figure holding up a Mochi Zombie.)

Mochi Zombie: Oh, my God. Are you Batman?

(The shadow figure flings the screaming Mochi Zombie aside into the light, smashing its glass and revealing the shadowy figure to be Mewtwo. "Disturbed - Glass Shatters" starts playing)

Huey: (laughs) Uncle Mewtwo! 

(The Loyal three appear)

Mewtwo: All right, what's your gimmick?

Okidogi: Gimmick?

Mewtwo: Yeah, like the last guys. They were all Misfit Minions and crap. What are you?

Fezandipiti: We're just here for your planet. Though if I had to choose, I'd say I'm the pretty one.

Mewtwo: Eh, six out of ten.

Fezandipiti: You sassy bitch.

Mewtwo: (to Munkidori) That makes you the weird one with the freaky power.

Munkidori: I can spawn mini-mes!

Mewtwo: Spectacular. (to Okidogi) And that would make you no doubt the big, tough, stupid one.

Okidogi: You take that back or I'll kill you!

Mewtwo: All right, all right. You're not tough.

Okidogi: That's better!

Huey: Wait, didn't you...

Mewtwo: Give him a minute.

(short pause)

Okidogi: Hey! You son of a bitch! (lunges forward and tries punching Mewtwo, but rams his fist into the back of a cargo truck)

Mewtwo: Now, now. That truck is not your eating disorder.

Okidogi: (removes his fist from the truck) You're a penis!

Mewtwo: So long since you've seen yours that you don't even recognize one, do ya?

(Mewtwo leaps off the truck and lands on a roof with Okidogi following and attempts to punch Mewtwo again, but Mewtwo catches and crushes his fist, causing Okidogi to scream in pain, and then grabs his wrist.)

Okidogi: Please don't break mah arm.

Mewtwo: No. (breaks Okidogi's arm, who screams in pain)

Okidogi: Aaaaaaahhh!

Just the whole sequence in Lord Slug XD

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Faith | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: mentions of death, canon violence, canon gore, tiptoeing in religious territory

Word Count: 4982

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

The Impala’s engine growled as Dean sped up to the house you’d tracked a nasty creature to. It had taken two little kids to its hideout. The only way to kill it was with electric shock.

“What do you got those amped up to?” Sam gestured to the two tasers Dean was holding.

You opted for your pistol since Dean only had two taser guns. 

Dean handed his brother one of the guns. “A hundred thousand volts.”

“Damn,” you commented.

“Yeah, I want this rawhead extra frickin' crispy. And remember, you only get one shot with these things. So make it count.”

The two of you hurried up to the front door and into the home. Dean led you and Sam down to the basement where you knew you’d find the kids.

You heard a noise coming from one of the cupboards in the corner of the basement. You aimed your gun and flashlight at the cupboard. 

Dean mouthed “One, two, three,” at his brother, who threw the cupboard door open.

Inside was a young girl and a younger girl who screamed and covered their ears.

Sam whispered to the kids, “Is it still here?”

They nodded.

“Okay. Grab your sister's hand,” Dean whispered to the boy, “come on, we gotta get you out of here. Let's go, let's go.” Dean was behind you, the children, and Sam as you scrambled out of the basement. A hand grabbed your leg, knocking you to the ground. 

“(Y/N)!” Dean shot his taser, but you knew he’d missed. “Sam, get 'em outta here!”

Sam obeyed, pulling the children out of the basement with him. He threw his taser gun down to his brother. 

“(Y/N), get out of here!” Dean urged you.

“No! Not without you!” 

Dean gave you that strange look again before he was knocked back by the creature. 

“Dean!” you cried, shooting at the creature even though you knew it wouldn’t do anything.

The creature turned its attention to you, but stopped when Dean landed his taser on it. To your horror, you heard the creature and Dean groaning in pain.

“Dean!” you cried again. You rushed from your position on the stairs down to his side. He laid on the floor in a puddle of water, twitching and unconscious. You paid no mind to the water soaking through your clothes and pulled him into your lap. “Dean, please wake up! Please!” You shook him, but nothing was working. Tears streamed down your face. “Sam! Get down here!”

Sam rushed to you, seeing you cradling his brother in your arms. He pulled his brother’s face into his hands, shaking him. “Dean, hey. Hey.”

“Sam, get back,” you ordered, your head on Dean’s chest. You immediately issued CPR to him, trying your best to get his heart started again.

Sam stood to call 911, pacing frantically and running your hands through his hair. “Please! There’s been an accident! Please hurry!” he begged. He gave the operator all the necessary information and went back over to you and Dean.

You continued with the chest compressions and breaths until the EMTs pulled you off Dean. You rode with him in the ambulance and Sam followed you to the hospital in the Impala. Thankfully, the EMTs were able to get his heart started again, but he remained unconscious. They wouldn’t allow you into his room with him when you arrived at the hospital, but you desperately wanted to.

While Sam spoke to the receptionist, you spoke to two officers standing by with notepads.

“Yeah, yeah,” your voice was shaky as you talked. “We were taking a shortcut through the neighborhood when we heard the kids scream and we found ‘em in the basement.

“Well, thank god you did,” the officer told you. 

You saw Dean’s doctor coming out of his room and excused yourself. You hurried to the doctor with Sam.

“Hey, Doc. Is he…” 

The doctor cut Sam off. “He's resting.”

“And?”

“The electrocution triggered a heart attack. Pretty massive, I'm afraid. His heart… it's damaged.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “How damaged?”

The doctor sighed. “We've done all we can. We can try and keep him comfortable at this point. But I'd give him a couple weeks, at most, maybe a month.”

You exhaled shakily.

“No, no. There's, there's...gotta be something you can do, some kind of treatment,” Sam pleaded.

“We can't work miracles. I really am sorry,” the doctor responded.

You brushed past the doctor and down to Dean’s room. You were horrified at the sight of the man before you. He was nothing like the Dean you had grown to care so much about. His face was pale, cheeks sallow, and eyes had dark circles beneath them.

Dean kept his eyes on the television as you and Sam entered. “Have you ever actually watched daytime TV? It's terrible.”

You shook your head and sighed.

“We talked to your doctor,” Sam murmured. 

“That fabric softener teddy bear. Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down,” Dean snarked.

Sam was getting more and more choked up by the second. “Dean.”

He finally looked up. He sounded resigned and clicked the television off. “Yeah. Alright, well, looks like you're gonna leave town without me.”

You were immediately defensive. “We’re not leaving you here.”

“Hey, you better take care of that car. I’m serious, don’t let (Y/N) drive it,” Dean told his brother. “Or, I swear, I'll haunt your ass.”

“I don't think that's funny.” You shook your head.

“Oh, come on, it's a little funny.”

There was a long silence before Dean spoke again. “Look, guys, what can I say, man, it's a dangerous gig. I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story.”

“Don't talk like that, alright? We still have options,” Sam said.

“What options? Yeah, burial or cremation. And I know it's not easy. But I'm gonna die. And you can't stop it.”

“Watch me,” Sam protested.

***

Between hours spent with Dean in his hospital room, you and Sam poured through pages of contacts in John’s journal searching for anyone that could help you. So far; nothing. Three days of searching and... nothing. While Sam called his dad, you took the opportunity to get some air. You bit back tears for as long as you could, but you couldn’t keep them at bay. You sat on the curb near the Impala, curling your knees into your chest. Sobs wracked your body. You tried to compose yourself but couldn’t. 

“(Y/N)?”

Wait, that sounded like— “Dean?” you sniffed. “What the hell are you doing here?” You quickly stood and went to help him walk. 

He gently shrugged you off him. “I checked myself out.”

“What, are you crazy?” you questioned, face still damp from crying and eyes still bloodshot. You slowly led Dean, who was having an incredibly difficult time walking, into the motel. 

“Well, I'm not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot,” he shrugged.

“Let me help you, please, Dee?” you begged him. He was leaning on everything he possibly could as he passed it.

“No, (Y/N), I’m fine.”

“You know, this whole I-laugh-in-the-face-of-death thing? It's crap. I can see right through it,” you responded.

“Yeah, whatever. Have you even slept? You look worse than me,” he joked.

You shook your head and led him into yours and Sam’s motel room. The younger brother jerked up from his spot, surprised to see his brother.

“What the—”

“He checked himself out,” you told him. You turned back to Dean. “We've been scouring the Internet for the last three days. Calling every contact in John’s journal.”

“For what?” Dean questioned.

Sam finished for you. “For a way to help you. One of Dad's friends, Joshua, he called me back. Told me about a guy in Nebraska. A specialist.”

“You guys ‘re not gonna let me die in peace, huh?” 

Sam shook his head. “I’m not gonna let you die, period. We’re going.”

***

Sam drove you and his brother up a gravel road to a large, white circus tent labeled with the sign “The Church of Roy LeGrange. Faith Healer. Witness The Miracle.”

You and Sam both went to help Dean out of the car, but he angrily shoved you both off. He turned to the two of you. “You guys are lying bastards. Thought you said we were going to see a doctor.”

“I believe he said specialist,” you answered for Sam. 

Sam sighed. “Look, Dean, this guy's supposed to be the real deal.”

“I can't believe you brought me here to see some guy who heals people out of a tent.”

An elderly woman passed with an umbrella. “Reverend LeGrange is a great man.”

Dean grumbled back, “Yeah, that's nice.”

A man was arguing with a cop a short distance away about his right to protest.

“I take it he's not part of the flock,” Dean commented as the cops took the man away.

“When people see something they can't explain, there's controversy,” Sam shrugged.

“I mean, come on, Sam, a faith healer?”

“Maybe it's time to have a little faith, Dean.”

“You know what I've got faith in? Reality. Knowing what's really going on.”

“How can you be a skeptic? With the things we see everyday?”

“Exactly. We see them, we know they're real.”

“But if you know evil's out there, how can you not believe good's out there, too?”

“Because I've seen what evil does to good people.”

A young woman broke into the boys’ argument. “Maybe god works in mysterious ways.”

Never losing his playboy pluck, Dean responded, “Maybe he does. I think you just turned me around on the subject.” He was clearly checking her out.

The woman wasn’t falling for it. “Yeah, I'm sure.”

He held out his hand. “I'm Dean. This is Sam and (Y/N).”

She shook his outstretched palm. “Layla. So, if you're not a believer, then why are you here?”

“Well, apparently these two believe enough for all three of us.” He gestured between you and Sam.

Another older woman approached Layla and put her arm around her. “Come on, Layla. It's about to start.” She guided who you assumed was her daughter into the tent.

Dean checked out Layla’s ass as she left. “Well, I bet you she can work in some mysterious ways.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled. You could feel Dean’s eyes boring into you as you walked into the tent. 

Dean made a few remarks as Sam led your trio up to the front of the rows of chairs. Thankfully, there were three seats open two rows from the front. 

“Oh, come on, Sam,” Dean growled. “This is ridiculous. I'm good, dude, get off me.”

You and Sam let Dean take the aisle seat while a blind, old man wearing sunglasses took the stage. A woman in a stuffy skirt and sweater helped him walk to the lectern.

“Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news. Never seems good, does it?” The crowd agreed with the man and he continued to speak. “Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act. But, I say to you, god is watching. God rewards the good, and he punishes the corrupt. It is the lord who does the healing here, friends. The lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts.”

The crowd got more and more amped up with each word out of the man’s mouth.

“Yeah, and into their wallets,” Dean muttered to you.

The man stopped his sermon. “You think so, young man?”

The crowd immediately fell silent.

“Sorry,” Dean responded. You could tell he was embarrassed.

“No, no. Don't be. Just watch what you say around a blind man, we've got real sharp ears.” The man grinned, looking in no particular direction.

The crowd laughed.

“What's your name, son?”

Dean cleared his throat and introduced himself.

Roy LeGrange nodded. “Dean. I want— I want you to come up here with me.”

The crowd clapped in jubilant uproar, but Dean shook his head. “No, it's okay.”

You whispered harshly to him, “What are you doing?!”

Roy sounded confused. “You've come here to be healed, haven't cha?”

Dean hesitated again. “Well, yeah, but ahh... maybe you should just pick someone else.”

You looked at Dean like he was crazy, furious.

“Oh, no. I didn't pick you, Dean, the lord did,” Roy laughed.

The crowd got more excited. “That's right! Yeah! Come on!” several audience members cheered.

Sam leaned over you to his brother. “Get up there!”

Dean reluctantly moved toward the stage. The woman in the buttoned sweater on stage with Roy, Sue Ann, moved to assist him. 

“You ready?” Roy asked.

Dean sighed. “Look, no disrespect, but ahh, I'm not exactly a believer.”

The old man smiled. “You will be, son. You will be. Pray with me, friends.”

The crowd lifted their arms and joined hands all around you. Your mother was Catholic; there was never this much joy at any of the services she’d forced you to sit through. It was kind of impressive, if you were honest. 

Dean’s eyes began to glaze over when Roy placed a hand on the side of his head. You and Sam shot up out of your chairs. Roy’s hand remained on the older brother’s head as he sank to the floor, gasping for breath. You sprinted to the stage when Dean fell. 

You grabbed the front of Dean’s hoodie. His eyes burst open and he gasped. “Say something!” you urged him.

He blinked groggily and looked up at Roy. He seemed scared; not of Roy, but of whatever was right next to Roy. You pulled him off the stage, thanking Roy, and left the tent when the service was dismissed.

***

You and Sam brought Dean to a nearby hospital the next day. He’d said he felt fine, but you and his brother just wanted to make sure.

“So, you really feel okay?” Sam asked him. You and Sam stood by Dean who sat on an exam table in the doctor’s office.

“I feel fine, Sam.” Dean’s heart wasn’t there when he spoke.

A pretty doctor with curly hair entered the room. She looked over her paperwork before addressing you and the boys. “Well, according to all your tests there's nothing wrong with your heart. No sign there ever was. Not that a man your age should be having heart trouble, but, still it's strange it does happen.”

“What do you mean, strange?” Dean asked.

“Well, just yesterday, a young guy like you, twenty-seven, athletic. Out of nowhere, heart attack.” 

Dean nodded absently. “Thanks, Doc.” 

The woman left the room. 

“That's odd,” Dean said pointedly.

Sam was defensive. “Maybe it's a coincidence. People's hearts give out all the time, man.”

The older brother sighed. “No, they don't.”

“Dean, why can’t we just be grateful the guy saved your life and move on?” you questioned.

“Because I can't shake this feeling, that's why.” Dean refused to meet your eyes.

“What feeling?”

“When I was healed, I just... I felt wrong. I felt cold. And for a second, I saw someone. This, uh, this old man. And I'm telling you, (Y/N), it was a spirit.”

“But if there was something there, Dean, I think either of us would’ve seen it,” you insisted. “Boy Wonder over here’s been seeing an awful lot lately.”

“Exactly,” Sam affirmed. 

“Well, excuse me, but you're just gonna need a little faith on this one. Guys, I've been hunting long enough to trust a feeling like this.”

Sam sighed. “Yeah, alright. So, what do you wanna do?”

“I want you two to go check out the heart attack guy. I'm gonna visit the reverend.”

You and Sam obeyed. You followed the trail to the gym he used to work out at. A man who had been acquaintances with him spoke to you. “I'm telling you, he seemed healthy. Swam every day, didn't smoke. So, a heart attack just kind of seemed, well, bizarre.”

“And you said he was running, right before he collapsed?” you asked him.

“Yeah, yeah, he was freaking out,” the employee responded. “He said that something was, uh, was after him.”

“Did he say what?” Sam questioned.

“Well, thin air is what. I mean, it wasn't anything.”

You noticed a clock on the wall wasn’t working as you turned to leave. “Hey, buddy? Your clock's busted.”

The employee sighed. “Oh, yeah, we, uh, can't get it workin'. Just froze at 4:17.”

“Is that the same time Marshall died?” Sam asked.

The man was stunned. “How'd you know?”

***

You and Sam were hanging out in the boys’ motel room. You brushed a hand through your hair. “This isn’t our fault, right?” You were pacing. “We had no way of knowing.”

Sam was sitting on his bed, clacking away at his laptop. “(Y/N)—”

“No, Sam! Dean’s gonna be pissed! And he’s gonna hate himself even more because he’s Dean and of course he will. Obviously, I’m thrilled that he’s better, I just—”

The man in question came through the door at that second. He threw his eyes on the bed across from Sam’s and began taking his jacket off. “What'd you find out?” Dean could tell from your pacing that something was wrong.

You quietly said, “I'm sorry.”

He approached you. “Sorry about what?’

“Marshall Hall died at 4:17,” Sam continued.

“The exact time you were healed,” you murmured.

“Yeah. So, I put together a list of everyone Roy's healed, six people over the past year, and I cross-checked them with the local obits. Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptom LeGrange was healing at the time,” Sam explained. 

“Someone's healed of cancer, someone else dies of cancer?” Dean questioned.

Sam shook his head. “Somehow. LeGrange, he’s trading a life for another.”

“Wait, wait, wait. So, Marshall Hall died to save me?” Dean’s voice became angry.

The younger brother’s puppy eyes were back. “Dean, the guy probably would've died anyway. And someone else would've been healed.”

“You never should've brought me here,” Dean said gruffly.

Guilt clawed at your throat. "Dean, we were just trying to help.”

"But, (Y/N), some guy’s dead now because of me!”

“We didn't know,” Sam protested. “The thing I don't understand is how is Roy doing it? How's he trading a life for a life?”

Dean seemed to realize something. “Oh, he's not doing it. Something else is doing it for him.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“The old man I saw on stage. I didn't wanna believe it, but deep down I knew.” Dean leaned on the back of a chair in the corner of the room.

“You knew what? What are you talking about?” Sam inquired.

“There's only one thing that can give and take life like that. We're dealing with a reaper,” Dean finished. 

You scrubbed a hand over your face and sank down at the desk in the room. “You really think it's the Grim Reaper? Like, angel of death, collect your soul, the whole deal?” 

Dean sat at the table across from you. “No, no, no, not the reaper, a reaper. There's reaper lore in pretty much every culture on earth. It goes by a hundred different names. It's possible that there's more than one of them.”

“But you said you saw a dude in a suit,” Sam deadpanned.

“What, you think he shoulda been working the whole black robe thing? You said it yourself that the clock stopped right? Reapers stop time. And you can only see 'em when they're coming at you which is why I could see it and you couldn't.”

“Maybe.”

“There's nothing else it could be Sam. The question is how is Roy controlling the damn thing?”

“That cross,” Sam realized.

“What cross?” you asked, turning to him. 

“There was this cross. I noticed it in the church and I knew I had seen it before.” He rifled through some papers and snorts. He held a card up to you and Dean. 

You took it from him. “A Tarot?”

“It makes sense. A tarot dates back to the early christian era right, when some priests were still using magic? And a few of them veered into the dark stuff? Necromancy and how to push death away, how to cause it?” 

“So Roy's using black magic to bind the reaper?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“If he is, he's riding the whirlwind. It's like putting a dog leash on a great white,” Sam quipped.

Dean rose to put a cup in the sink. “Okay, then, we stop Roy.”

“How?” You turned to him.

“You know how,” Dean answered.

You scoffed. “We’re not gonna kill Roy.”

“Sweetheart, the guy’s playing god; he's deciding who lives and who dies. That's a monster in my book.”

Sam argued back, “No. We're not going to kill a human being Dean. We do that, we're no better than he is.”

“Ok, we cant kill Roy, we can't kill death. Any bright ideas, college boy?”

“Ok. uh, If Roy's using some kind of black spell on the reaper, we gotta… figure out what it is. And how to break it,” Sam elaborated. 

“Back to church it is, then,” you said, and the boys followed you out to the Impala.

***

“If Roy's using a spell, there might be a spell book,” Sam suggested. The three of you had arrived at the church just before the service began. 

“See if you can find it.” Dean looked at his watch. “Hurry up, too, the service starts in fifteen minutes. I'll try to stall Roy.”

The man who had been arguing with the cop days before was back out front the church again, handing out pamphlets. “Roy LeGrange is a fraud,” the man preached. “He's no healer.”

Dean took a pamphlet. “Amen, brother.”

“You keep up the good work,” Sam told him.

You giggled at the brothers’ antics.

“Thank you,” the man grinned. 

You and Sam searched the house after Roy and SueAnn had left it in preparation for the service. Sam led you through a window into the house. You scanned the bookshelf; pulling the only book that didn’t have dust on it.

“Sam, look,” you said. He came over to you, and flipped through the book. Realizing there was nothing of value in it, he went to put it back. You stopped him. “Wait, what’s that?”

Sam pulled the book from behind the one you had pulled out. Inside it, you found a picture of the wooden cross Sam had seen in the tent. He also found multiple news clippings stashed inside; each a victim of Roy’s life-swapping. The one who had died for Dean was an openly gay teacher. Another in front of it was an abortion rights advocate, and the most recent page was of the man handing out leaflets in front of the tent.

“Oh, that poor guy,” you said, biting your lip. “C’mon.”

Once you were out of the house, you called Dean. “Whatcha got?” he asked you.

“Roy's choosing victims he sees as immoral. And I think I know who's next on his list. Remember that protestor?” you said.

“What, the guy in the parking lot?” Dean whispered.

“Yeah. Yeah, we'll find him. But you can't let Roy heal anyone, alright?”

Dean hung up, and you and Sam set off to find the man. Suddenly, a screeching voice caught your attention. You watched as the protester dashed between cars. “Help! Help! Help me, please!”

You ran over to him. “Where is he?” 

The man grabbed your shoulder. “Right there!”

Obviously, you could see nothing. You grabbed his arm and pulled him away. “Sam!”

“Here!” 

And suddenly, everyone in the tent flooded out. You, Sam, and David Wright stopped running. 

“David, I think it's ok,” Sam said, pressing his phone to his ear. 

David’s eyes widened, and panic overtook him once more. “No!”

“Dean it didn't work. The reaper's still coming!” Sam told his brother through the phone. “I'm telling you, I'm telling you it didn't work. Roy must not be the one controlling this thing.”

Wright began to sink to the ground. You stood by, horrified and helpless. And then, Wright gasped for breath again. He was fine and the reaper had seemingly backed off.

“It’s Sue Ann,” Sam told you.

“Bitch,” you muttered.

At that moment, Dean was escorted out of the tent by two police officers. They told him something about instilling the fear of God in him if the ever saw him again. From a distance away, you could hear Roy saying he would heal Layla in a private service later that night. 

***

You returned to the boys’ motel room to hatch a plan for disrupting that private service. 

“So Roy really believes.” Sam shook his head in dismay.

“I don't think he has any idea what his wife's doing,” Dean added.

“Well, we found this.” You handed Dean the little book. “Hidden in their library. It's ancient. Written by a priest who went dark side. There's a binding spell in here for trapping a reaper.”

“Must be a hell of a spell,” the older brother responded.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. You gotta build a black alter with seriously dark stuff. Bones, human blood. To cross a line like that; a preacher's wife. Black magic. Murder. Evil.” 

“Desperate,” Dean continued. “Her husband was dying, she didn't have anything to save him. She was using the binding spell to keep the reaper away from Roy.”

“Cheating death, literally,” Sam snorted.

“Yeah but Roy's alive, so why is she still using the spell?”

“Right. To force the reaper to kill people she thinks are immoral.”

“May god save us from half the people who think they're doing god's work.”

“We gotta break that binding spell, guys,” you said. 

Dean stared at the picture of the cross in the book. “You know Sue Ann had a coptic cross like this. When she dropped it, the reaper backed off.”

“So you think we gotta find the cross or destroy the altar?” Sam questioned.

“Maybe both,” you suggested. “Whatever we do we gotta do it soon, or he's healing Layla tonight.”

Dean sighed and shook his head.

“What?” you asked. 

“She just doesn’t deserve this, is all.”

“I know, Dee, I feel horrible for her. But we have to.”

Later that night, you and the boys arrived at the LeGrange house. 

“That's Layla's car. She's already here.” Sam pointed.

Dean nodded sadly. “You know if Roy woulda picked Layla instead of me she'd be here right now. And if she's not healed tonight she's gonna die in a coupla months.”

“What’s happening to her is horrible. But, what?” you said. “You’re gonna let somebody else die to save her? You said it yourself. You can’t play god.”

Dean didn’t answer. He just got out of the car, and you followed him. You could see Layla on stage with Roy, a small crowd of people around them. 

“Where's Sue Ann?” you wondered aloud.

“House,” Sam nodded in its direction.

“Go find Sue Ann, (Y/N) and I'll catch up.”

“We will?”

“It’ll be harder for them to catch two of us. C’mon,” Dean urged. He yelled at the cops coming down the stairs to the house. “You gonna put that fear of god in me?”

They dropped their coffee cups and began to follow Dean. You jumped out from behind the bush and called at the cops, too. “How ‘bout me, fellas? Come and get it!” The two cops hesitated, but one of them followed Dean and the other followed you. 

You and Dean met up behind a camper van. Dean shot you a look that said, ‘We were supposed to split up.’

“You see ‘em?” One cop asked the other.

“Nah,” came the response.

You and Dean slowly stood up to the passenger window of the camper and took in your surroundings. A dog in the van began barking wildly. You shot a look at Dean with wide eyes, and the two of you scrambled up to the roof of the van. 

The cops pounded their feet all the way back to the van, cursing at the dog for falsely tipping them off. The cops headed off to the woods behind the tent. You and Dean climbed down and started toward the tent. Suddenly, the lights leading up to the tent began to go out. Dean stopped, slowly turning to face the flickering lights. He turned back to you and flinched back, falling to the ground and scrambling backward.

“What?” you called. “Where is it?”

“Right behind you!” he answered. His eyes began to roll back in his head as he convulsed on the ground. 

“Dean, no!” you cried. “I can't lose you!” you held the back of his head and placed your hand on his chest. As soon as it started, it stopped. Dean fell back in your arms, gasping. 

“You good?” you asked him.

He panted, nodding. 

You helped him to his feet, and the two of you met Sam at the Impala. 

“You okay?” Sam asked his brother.

Dean shook his head. “Hell of a week.”

“Yeah.” Sam trailed off. “Alright, come on. We should get going.”

The three of you got in the car and returned to your motel. 

***

“What did you mean by ‘I can’t lose you’?” Dean asked you.

Sam took the opportunity to flee the scene, heading into the motel and leaving you and Dean on the curb.

“Just that,” you told him. You looked into those gorgeous green eyes you were beginning to have complicated feelings for. “You and Sam are my only two friends. Of course, you’re important to me.”

He chuckled and gave you a lopsided smile. “We’re friends now?”

“Of course. It’s hard to hate you, unfortunately.” You smiled warmly. “Goodnight, Dee.”

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