#plus he's so unbothered by having guns pointed at him as well

[camellcat]

I'm rewatching s1 again and I think it's so fucking funny how much every other doctor except nine absolutely hates guns. nine is SO excited to shoot that goddamn dalek. he is READY he is DOWN he is soooo for it. he points a gun at rose tyler and doesn't even think about it until she scolds him for it.

and then in bad wolf where he's incredibly comfortable about holding that big ass blaster. never gets onto jack about parading around with them either. just does not bat an eye. in fact he is threatening people with it, even if it is a farce.

the others would NEVER lol

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

I’m sorry, but can I just go on a little rant about the Louis, clouis, and the Clem comic...? 

I didn’t really talk about Louis in my overall review of the comic because I wanted that to be more contained to the content shown on the pages, Clementine’s relationship with AJ, and her as a character.... but the more I think about these comics and Louis, the more frustrated I become thinking about what Clementine abandoning everyone would do to him. 

[... okay it’s not little anymore since I guess I can never just do anything simple when it comes to Louis, sorry my bad]

So, no surprise, we all know the comic’s bullshit by now. Clementine leaving everything and everyone behind because she’s not happy is dumb, AJ just letting her go is dumb, and Clem going to the mountains on crutches and a peg leg to find this so-called happiness is dumb. 

Now that we’ve established it’s dumb, I wanna talk about Louis because I got a lot of built up feelings about how bullshit this storyline is with how Clementine would not only abandon AJ, but also abandon Louis. 

Because let me tell you..... his heart would be broken beyond repair and I need to talk about why.

Sigh.... so.... muh boy. 

Before he met Clementine, Louis was this laidback, irresponsible, but caring and musical person who kept his head down to avoid conflict and never looked at the future. He was the kind of person who took things one day at a time, saw survival as a day-to-day task, and said that the future doesn’t exist, there’s only today. You get the point, he was never too concerned with things because they always seemed to work out, and if they didn’t, then that sucks and that’s why we should appreciate every day while we have it. 

Louis is shown to be charismatic and friendly, he spends his free time playing piano and card games, but no one really takes him seriously. Not even Marlon, his best friend for 8+ years. While he doesn’t seem to be on bad terms with anyone [including Aasim, they just act like people who disagree with the other’s point of view and have had the same argument many times, but that doesn’t mean they hate each other, y’know?] he also doesn’t appear super close with anyone outside of Marlon and possibly Violet, but even then. 

Marlon’s shown to have little faith in him with the way he talks about if Louis will even show up to hunt. He has a controlling grip on Louis that’s prominent during the confrontation scene when he uses intimidation to try to convince Louis to not interfere. Oh, and there’s the fact that Marlon’s been lying to Louis for the past year about the twins and then continued to lie to his face about what really happened to Brody... which isn’t great when you consider how Louis was the only one who had blind faith in him as a leader and, according to Marlon, was the only one who couldn’t see how pathetic he always was. 

Violet, while having a few more nicer moments with him than Marlon, still invalidates him and his feelings several times throughout the first half of the game which makes me wonder how close they ever were, or at least if Violet ever considered him a close friend to begin with. And no, a small monologue in the dorms doesn’t make everything better or confirm they were brotp the whole time... especially when once they’re on the boat, Louis might as well not exist because Violet can’t be bothered to acknowledge what happened to him or inquire about how he’s doing. I guess she just didn’t have time react while standing in her cell for several unbothered minutes-- no wait, it’s she already reacted off screen. Right. Good writing is good.

What I’m getting at here is that even though Louis is surrounded by people who he genuinely cares about, there is an argument to be made that he’s a lonely person. Hell, he’s aware of his loneliness when he says that no one hears past his music and jokes. I mean, how many nights do you think he spent by himself playing the piano because no one wanted to hear it? Are they like Violet and crack jokes about how he doesn’t have actual talent? Probably, given that someone literally carved “you suck at playing” onto the side of the damn piano. 

Oh, and let’s touch on that backstory of his. Louis grew up wealthy with two parents who loved him and each other, and they gave him anything he wanted except singing lessons. Louis says he wanted to be a real musician. But I guess his father didn’t like that idea and told him no, with the [as Louis puts it] dumb dad lesson of, “You get to be happy, or you get to be rich, can’t be both.” ...which is interesting given that Louis and his family were stupid rich but also.... were they not happy? well, that doesn’t make sense because little Louis knew that if he broke up their marriage, they would be hurt. 

So yeah, Louis was so upset that his father continually refused to let him take singing lessons that he broke into the man’s credit cards and faked an affair, which led to his parents divorcing... and then he spit his father’s words back in his face. 

Then they dumped him at Ericson. And the walkers came. 

There’s so much to unpack from the story he tells that it could be it’s own analysis, but basically.... Louis is aware of why what he did was fucked up, and he carries it with him every day. 

He regrets what he did, chews himself out for being such a “vindictive fuckhead” [and the amount of force used in that line tells you a lot, like how it’s not the first time he’s chastised himself like this] and he admits that he doesn’t even know the person he’s talking about. Yet, he still sees himself as bad, saying that they [I assume the staff] told him and the other kids they’re bad people. I don’t doubt that Louis internalized that which played a huge role in the confidence and self-esteem issues he has during tfs. 

Anyway, I’ll come back to this later, but when you take that amount of guilt and regret, and mix it with the fact that they dropped him off at this school that was supposed to make him better.... then the walkers came and those teachers, staff, and headmaster? Gone. Left a bunch of kids to fend for themselves, with the exception of Ms. Martin [but given how she looks when we find her I doubt she lasted that long] and I cannot imagine how horrifying that was for all of them. The dead are up eating people, and if you die you become one of them... and the people you thought you could rely on just fucking left you to die at this school. 

Every kid in that school has trauma and abandonment issues from before and after the world went to shit, every last one, and Louis isn’t the exception here. Over the years, a lot of kids died and they’ve all seen horrible shit. They all knew they were never going to see their families again, and as far as we know, no one came to get their kids at the beginning. They had to find ways of coping while trying to survive, and all they had left was each other. 

Louis copes with music and games and jokes. He’s built up this persona where it seems like he’s unaffected by the comments the others make, that the death and suffering he’s gone through is in the past, that he is confident and open to those around him.

But then Clementine and AJ show up, and Louis grows close with both of them. They had immediate chemistry upon first meeting, he was the one who looked after AJ since it seems like everyone else saw him as a little terror, and he went out of his way to be kind and make them comfortable. 

When they go hunting with him, Louis and Clementine have a moment after taking care of the walker where they lower their guards a bit-- Louis gives her more in-depth reasons for his views of survival, and going off her expression, it gets to her and makes her think.... but they’ve know each other a day and he’s not quick to infodump his life story or let her in, so he cuts the conversation short.

Then we have the Marlon confrontation scene that I have gone over so many times in the past. I won’t dillydally with it too long but..... Clementine appeals to Louis, who curls in on himself because of the control Marlon has on him. He wants to help, and hell, he knows this is wrong but he’s so used to not getting involved that he gets defensive.... plus, he’s known Clementine for two days, and he’s known Marlon for 8+ years.... he wants to believe Marlon but you can tell he doesn’t want this, either. It takes Clementine talking to him to give him courage to stand between her and Marlon’s gun and it’s a lot.

AJ shoots Marlon and everything goes to shit, and Louis is a goddamn mess. His best friend was murderer right in front of him, so add that to the trauma list, and he’s overwhelmed with all these feelings that again.... they keep getting invalidated by Violet because “Marlon was a liar and murderer, therefore you shouldn’t feel bad about his death. Get over yourself, Louis, you can be such a shithead sometimes.” 

Oh yeah Vi, I guess he should care more about two people he’s known for a total of two days rather than for the safety of the people [including you] he’s grown up with and cared about for 8+ years.... makes sense. 

So yeah, little to no support during this time. Alone again. 

And just because I have to make this clear so no one gets a hair up their ass-- both Louis and Violet are wrong here. Kicking them out isn’t the solution, but neither is acting like AJ was right to commit murder just because it was Marlon.

 But plots gotta plot, so they get voted out and you can see that Louis is conflicted about the whole thing. He wants them gone, but at the same time, he knows what kicking them out means. You can see it on his face that he’s not okay with kicking them out. He’s hurting when he’s there in the dorms telling them how the vote went... he literally doesn’t know what else to do. He just knows that everything hurts, Clem and AJ caused it, and he wants the pain to stop. He even tries to justify it to himself by figuring that they’ve done this before so they’ll be fine. Not a great thing to say, Lou. 

Anyway, we know the story, Clem and AJ come back and Louis once again sees the consequences of acting out of pain.... AJ is shot because Louis was hurt and he made a bad decision that he’s gotta live with.... something that he’s done before, and this affirms to him that he’s bad. He wishes he could take it back, and goes as far as to admit that to Clementine during the archery scene. 

By the way, credit to him for his apology to her. It’s rare in these games that Clem gets a genuine apology from someone who hurt her and doesn’t turn around to repeat the hurtful behavior, y’know? Plus, I can think of plenty of characters who owed Clem an apology in the past or if they did apologize, it was half-assed. 

You can feel how conflicted he is with this whole thing-- learning who Marlon really was and what he did, feeling something for Clementine before everything went down and not knowing how to handle those feelings afterward, caring about AJ and understanding why he thought shooting was the best choice but still hurting that his friend is dead.... 

And the thing is.... Louis forgives her for so much, as she does him, and through all of that bullshit, they manage to develop that strong connection that turns romantic. Louis lets himself be fully vulnerable with her and is honest about his feelings, how she listened when no one else did and seeing him for more than just the persona he put on. 

This works on Clementine’s side, too. Clementine has been through her own fair share of bullshit-- trauma, abandonment, loss, injury, you name it. She’s made mistakes, done terrible things, and has been in enough groups to know that romance usually ends in heartbreak.... and yet, she’s willing to open herself up to Louis and admit she feels a lot for him. 

Is it a little rushed? Yep. Could it have been handled better? Of course, most things this season could’ve, but what we got was pretty good. 

So Clementine and Louis are romantically involved now, the raiders attack, and she saves him... and boy does Louis feel guilty about that one, too. He feels bad enough that he questions why she would pick him because he can’t fathom his life being worth saving over another’s. He doesn’t see himself as useful, and even though Clementine is literally his girlfriend at this point, his self-esteem is so all over the place that he can’t understand why she would have him at her side. 

And when Clementine tells him that he’s too important to her, he’s too baffled to even give a response. He looks at her in disbelief like he wasn’t expecting her to say that.  But this shows that at the beginning of their relationship, he still doubts himself, and through her working with him, he begins to build up that strength in himself. 

He becomes brave enough to share what got him sent to the school with her, and he plays Don’t Be Afraid for everyone at the party and like.... for once, everyone is listening to him. Really listening to him. They’re not talking shit about his musical skills, they’re not ignoring him or the feelings he’s putting into the song, they’re sitting there with him and I just..... if you watch him, you can see that his eyes get pretty glossy throughout the song. The moment meant something to everyone. 

There’s also the fact that Clementine asked him to come with her and AJ onto the boat, and to be the one in charge of the bomb... that’s a huge responsibly and he feels the pressure of that. He starts to panic a bit about if he can do it, because what if he fucks up? What if he gets them caught and makes everything worse? What if something happens to Clementine and he can’t do anything about it? 

She’s there to reassure him that she believes in him, and that he can do this. They’re going to get everyone back, and he needs to focus... then he asks her to slap him which why would you? that’s dumb, so Clementine smooches him instead and like.... he physically relaxes into her because he’s comfortable and trusts her in this situation. 

Also, he loves her and cares about this mission enough to cover himself and his fancy jacket in walker guts.... sure, he complains while doing so but how else is he gonna cope with rubbing rotten guts on himself to blend in with a herd of walkers? 

Skipping ahead so that we’re not here all day, I wanna talk about the walk back to the school because it’s one of the most important clouis moments in the game and a huge reason that solidifies why the comic is bullshit.

Louis went off on his own to go out and find them. He didn’t know where they would be, he just knew that he had to go out and find them after making sure everyone was okay back at the school because he couldn’t bare the thought that he had lost them. And the way the AJ gets so excited to see him? and the group hug??

At this point, Louis has grown so much as a character. With Clementine by his side to support him, he’s grown stronger and more reliable. Remember how he never thought about the future? Well, now he is because his relationship with Clementine has given him a reason to long for a future. He talks about building this imaginary house with her, one he knows they can’t physically build... but it’s his way of saying we can build a home together, that he wants a future with her and AJ and everyone else. It’s such a personal conversation that flows so easy between them. Louis is more comfortable talking to her about things from his past, which is something he didn’t want to do back in ep1. 

He confides in her how he’s feeling after he shot and killed Dorian, he tells her that having a home means protecting it and I just.... it’s so good, okay? And from Clementine’s side, you can feel how at ease she is with him, too. Just the way she smiles at him as they’re walking? like he’s the cutest thing and she’s so happy to have him with her? 

But then we gotta deal with Minerva’s crazy ass on the bridge and well, AJ shoots Tenn and Louis is having flashbacks to Marlon and it’s not great. That’s a whole thing, and he ends up separated from them while escaping.

We don’t get to see Louis’ reaction to Clementine getting bit and losing her leg since I guess that puts a damper on the overly happy ending. But, going off of what we know about him and what I’ve explained [which isn’t even all of it, this isn’t a full Louis character analysis. if it was, it would be much longer and in multiple parts... believe it or not, I’m trying to not make this too long and only sorta failing...] we can get an idea of how he would react. 

Um, to say he was upset is an understatement.

Because remember, he had no time to think and climbed over the fence, thinking he could get them to climb over and they could get away, but it didn’t work. He ended up leaving them in order to save himself since walkers were closing in on him.

But you know that he’d blame himself for the bite. A lot of, “if I had just stayed” and “I should’ve climbed back over, I should’ve stayed with you.” I’m sure there were points where it looked like Clem wouldn’t make it and I can’t imagine how much hurt he went through watching her suffer and heal from losing a leg like that. 

Not only that, but knowing that AJ was the one to do it? And him thinking about what Clem’s death would do to AJ after all this? There isn’t a doubt in my mind that Louis would take care of AJ if she died. He cares about AJ, and he loves Clementine, so he be there for both of them, even if he’s still hurting from Tenn’s death. 

However, Clementine didn’t die. She survived the bite and amputation, and when we flashforward, she and Louis are still happily together. Louis is right there next to her at dinner, and he’s the one to help her with her crutches. He’s there to go over future plans to meet the traveling caravan, and Clementine wants him to be the one to go. 

Oh, and Louis once again forgives AJ for shooting Tenn, claiming that he understands that AJ saw something that he couldn’t. Like with Marlon, he’s not happy Tenn’s dead but he can see why AJ did it to save his life. 

I just..... happy ending. Clementine and Louis are together and she’s truly happy to have found a home for her and AJ with him at Ericson. 

....But then the comic thought it would be fun to say “nah.” 

The comic isn’t canon, I’m still insulted that it would ever consider itself as such, but even so I can’t help but feel so frustrated about how this would destroy Louis. 

He finally found someone he would consider his best friend, not just his girlfriend. She saw past that funny man persona and he trusted her enough to let her past this wall he built around himself. He let himself become vulnerable around her, he named his song after her. Their initials are carved into his piano with a heart surrounding them. He loved her. 

Clementine left him feeling loved, something he probably hasn’t truly felt since he was a little boy with his parents before their divorce. She loved him even after hearing his past because she knew that wasn’t him anymore, and she helped him build the confidence he needed to step up. Because of Clementine, Louis wants to enjoy every day while also looking at the future. He isn’t lonely anymore, he has her and AJ. He’s truly happy.

So to tell me that Louis would wake up one morning only to have AJ tell him that Clementine’s gone, she’ been planning an escape without telling anyone because she wasn’t happy...? I’m sorry, but if you think that wouldn’t leave Louis absolutely devastated, then you know nothing about him as a character. 

This idea is just.... look, Louis is perceptive. That’s a big part of his character, he’s perceptive of those around him. If Clementine was showing signs of being unhappy or depression, he would see it. He would notice a change. He would be able to tell if something was off, and he would ask her about it. Louis is the type of person to ask you what you need. What can he do to help? What do you need to feel better? And if you don’t know, it’s okay, he’ll help you figure it out in any way possible. 

Plus, the comic suggests that there are times where she went off on her own but came back [probably doing her escape prep ugh] and you expect me to believe that Louis wouldn’t notice that or wonder what she’s doing? Wouldn’t sense that something’s going on? 

After she’s gone, he’s going to blame himself for not being enough. He couldn’t make her happy and he was a fool to think he ever could. AJ lost the only family he’s known since he was born because Louis couldn’t help her, couldn’t do anything to stop her from leaving. 

And for him to realize that she didn’t love him? Clementine, the girl he thought the world of because of how strong and confident and in-charge she was, because she saw him for who he was..... she left him, abandoned him... and she couldn’t even be bothered with a goodbye.... that says that she didn’t care all that much about him in the end.

You KNOW that he would think he had this coming, too. How could the universe allow him to fall in love and be happy with someone who loved him back after what he did to his parents? He would feel so heartbroken that he would see this as some sort of karma for breaking up his parents happy marriage as a kid years before he ever met Clementine and before the apocalypse.

I fucking can’t.... I don’t have the words to fully explain how much I hate this. Louis wouldn’t be okay afterward, and I doubt he’d ever fully recover. I wasn’t joking when I mentioned before that Louis would stop playing piano. How could he sit there and play when I he can see is their initials and remember the night she confessed to him? When he named his song after her? Clementine left and took the music with her because Louis wouldn’t have it in him... something that he used to cope would be ruined and that’s just.... it’s fucking awful. 

Not only that, but now he has AJ who I assume is hurting just as much [though the comics inaccurately assume he would just let Clem go sooo... yeah] and he would be the only one Louis would really talk to about it, but then again.... what if AJ doesn’t wanna talk about it? What if AJ starts to act out and things just become terrible and Louis is just too overwhelmed? 

I just.... UGH. That’s how I feel. UGH. 

Clementine from the comic? Not her. She would never fucking do this to Louis, AJ, or anyone else at Ericson, and you would know that if you played the tfs. 

Sigh.... sorry, I just needed to get this all out. I haven’t seen anyone talk about how Clem leaving would affect Louis and I’ve gotten some asks/come across some posts about Louis that have left me incredibly annoyed.... well, I was annoyed before because of the comics, so my annoyances with those things were only heightened. So yeah... I wanted to talk about Louis’ character in hopes of explaining why he would be so hurt if this comic was canon. 

Which it’s not. So it’s fine. 

How are we all feelin’ at this point, by the way? I know I’m not the only one still annoyed with the comic, so I hope y’all are doin’ okay. Hope you’re stayin’ chill and thinking about your faves to help cope with this mess hahaha

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 12

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary: It’s sort of funny though, to imagine Din being defeated by Gideon’s sword. 

It’s sort of funny, except...

Well. 

It isn’t really funny at all.

Rating: T

Word Count: 4,704 (good lord I’m tired...)

Warnings: angst, swearing, one brief moment of sexual harassment, lots of assumptions made, Dark Din returns and some familiar characters make themselves known

Author Note: Believe me I want Din and Cupid reunited as much as all of you do, but my dark side keeps saying just stretch it out a little bit longer 😈 All the love to each and every reader out there, the support you give me keeps me sane and happy each week ❤

Links to Part 1 and Part 11 and Part 13

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

You wipe furiously at your face, smearing tears across your cheeks, while inwardly cursing yourself for showing weakness in front of Gideon. A lump forms in your throat as you replay the last sixty seconds on loop in your head, imagining exactly how Din will react to each sentence, especially those last two words: let go. This will be the one and only time you’re thankful you can’t feel Din’s half of the bond. If he’s feeling even a smidge of the throbbing, torturous pain you’re feeling right now, experiencing both sides would have overwhelmed you. Of all the commands Gideon could have chosen, why would he choose to taunt Din with that one? It’s as if the Seraph is purposefully trying to piss Din off.

Maybe he is insane, you think, not for the first time, just as he starts to clap his hands together in applause.

“Well done,” Gideon says, almost in admiration. “You’re a much better actress than I imagined you’d be.”

“It wasn’t an act,” you snap back.

“Regardless, you’ve served your part well.” He reaches forward to pat your head, and you honestly deserve an award for not giving into the urge to break his hand. “If it would make you feel better, I could make you forget this moment ever happened. Should I require you to send a second message, it would certainly make it all the more bittersweet for you to think it was your first attempt.”

His words make no sense at first, and you merely sit there in the chair blinking back at him, some distant part of you aware of how your eyelashes are still wet and stuck together. Involuntarily, you find yourself recalling Din’s reaction to your memory loss, how he had muttered under his breath he thought someone was responsible for the blank spots. Your mouth falls open in shock as Gideon’s meaning clicks.

“You...You tampered with my memories?” you whisper.

“It wasn’t personal. There are holes in every Cupid’s head.”

Why would he use his powers so cruelly and invasively? How does he choose which memories to erase? These questions and more run through your head, but you don’t voice them aloud. Everything you’ve heard about and actually seen in person about Gideon has solidified your opinion he is a certifiable control freak. Of course he would use his memory-erasing ability to further establish his position of authority amongst the Cupids.

Your eyes drift to the Cupid twi’lek behind him. “Is that why she’s here? You brainwashed her into joining you?”

“I made my own choice,” she replies, tone as sharp as the knife she twirls with nimble fingers. It doesn’t gleam like metal, instead faintly sparkling just like your arrows do. Kyber crystal, you realize with a chill of uneasiness. “You don’t see me in a collar, do you?”

“Indeed, I cannot alter memories, only erase them. It was free will that brought Xi’an to me, not manipulation,” Gideon says with a smile, but his eyes glimmer in a way that makes your throat close up with fear. “She has become a loyal and valuable ally.”

Valuable. One word and your suspicions are confirmed. Collared or not, Xi’an is just as much a toy for Gideon to play with as you and Din are. The only difference is she doesn’t seem to realize she is one. Or, and this is a dangerous possibility, she does know and simply doesn’t give a damn.

“She’s your ally?” you echo, nervously licking your lips. “What does that mean?”

“She has dedicated herself to the achievement of my goal.”

You know he’s purposefully baiting you, but still you find yourself asking, “And that goal is?”

Gideon leans forward, invading your personal space even as you jerk backwards in your seat. The smile has been wiped from his face, replaced with narrowed eyes and a twisted scowl. He deliberately presses the unlit laser sword against the middle of your chest in the space between your breasts, thumb teasingly hovering over the activation button.  

When he answers, you’ve never heard anyone else speak as seriously as him.

“To finish what I started.”

The words linger in the air the same foreboding way Din’s reapers linger around hospitals. You don’t realize you’re not breathing until Gideon steps back after several pounding heartbeats pass and your lungs are on fire. You suck in a breath of relief, but your body remains tense, recognizing the dangerous situation you’re still stuck in.

“Mayfeld,” Gideon addresses the man armed with three guns who immediately straightens. “Take her back to her cell.”

You don’t resist as Mayfeld grabs you by the upper arm and tugs you out of your seat. It’d take a miracle to incapacitate him and everyone else in the room before they subdued you. No, you can’t make any rash decisions. The right moment will come, you tell yourself. It has to.

...Right?

“So, what’s it like being Death’s soulmate?”

You’re jerked out of your thoughts by Mayfeld’s voice. You side-eye him, keeping your mouth firmly shut.

“I mean, I’ve heard he never takes off the helmet,” he continues, unbothered by your silence. “But surely you must’ve seen what’s underneath there. If it were me, I’d definitely wanna know the face of the guy I’m allegedly destined to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Allegedly?” The question slips out before you can stop yourself.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not so much a believer in fate or destiny or true love. And now that I know the guy who’s the boss of Cupid operations?” He huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “Forget about ever trying to convince me the universe has a mortal’s best interests in mind when it allows a Seraph as bat-shit crazy as the Moff to have the power he has.”

“If you think he’s insane, why do you work for him?”

“The pay’s good,” he answers with a laugh. “Plus, if he really does pull off this plan of his, well...let’s just say I’d rather be in his corner than anywhere else.”

“You do realize though that anyone in Gideon’s corner is an enemy of Death’s?” you say, half-taunting him half-genuinely curious about his reaction.

“That thought has recently crossed my mind,” is all he replies.

The conversation comes to a halt when you arrive back at your cell. Mayfeld pushes you inside, but the force is noticeably gentler than the thug who had manhandled you earlier. Standing near the pallet, you watch as he digs a remote out of the pocket of his pants and activates the laser grid with a single press of a button.

Interesting.

You expect Mayfeld to immediately return to Gideon’s side, so you’re surprised and more than a little confused when the man continues to linger. A minute of silence ticks by and your confusion changes to frustration. What does he want?

Just as your mouth opens to snidely voice the question, the baby chooses that precise moment to sneak back into your cell. Your heart leaps into your throat as you rush forward to grab him, torn between forcibly shoving him back into the hole or foolishly attempting to hide him behind your back.

“There’s the little green guy,” Mayfeld says, and you pause at the audible note of cheerfulness in his voice. The baby coos in your arms, waving his hand in the man’s direction.

They kriffing know each other?

Mayfeld notices your bewildered expression. “What? You think none of us noticed he doesn’t like staying put? We might be mercenaries, but we’re not complete idiots.”

“You’re a heartless bastard,” you spit, holding the baby tighter against your chest. “He’s a baby and you’re doing nothing to get him out of here.”

“First of all,” he counters, holding up a finger. “Ouch. And second,” he points that same finger directly at the baby, “that little guy is older than me so calling him a ‘baby’ isn’t exactly fair.”

Your eyes sweep over Mayfeld, estimating him to be at least forty. You then look at the green face smiling back at you. Yeah, there’s no way he’s telling the truth.

“You’re a liar.”

“Maker, the hits just keep on coming.” Mayfeld rolls his eyes. “Why would I lie about his age?”

“I…” you trail off, unable to come up with an excuse.

“Exactly.” He nods smugly. “Look, he fooled me, too, with those big brown eyes of his. If I hadn’t witnessed what he can do when that collar’s off, I might have been suckered into releasing him. He’s cute, sure, but he’s also secretly a menacing gremlin.”

You frown. “What do you mean you’ve seen what he can do?”

“I mean he’s got powers. He can lift things with his mind, throw men against walls five times his size like they weigh nothing. What’s worse is he uses those powers to steal. I had a pack of cookies I was saving and he levitated them right out of my pocket.”

Your disbelief falters at that last bit. You had already surmised the baby had stolen the cookies, but not like this. Looking down at him again, the collar stands out more prominently than ever before. Xi’an told you they were purposefully designed to prohibit the use of powers. Why else would the baby wear one if he didn’t possess some type of special ability?

“You really have some serious trust issues, don’t you?” Mayfeld says, almost sounding impressed by your stubborn reluctance to believe him.

“I’m currently being held hostage by a psychopath,” you retort. “I think I’m allowed to be suspicious of a mercenary who says everything that pops into his head.”

His lips purse. “Alright. That’s a good point.”

“Isn’t it risky?” you ask, stepping closer to the gate. “Sharing all this information with me?”

“Only if you don’t appreciate the value of it all.”

Your brow furrows, not understanding.

“Look,” he lowers his voice meaningfully. “One way or another, Gideon and Death are gonna face each other and only one side will win. Gideon wins, great. Status quo unchanged. But if your soulmate wins?” He grimaces at the prospect. “By talking to you, I’m trying to cover all my bases here.”

Your brain works rapidly to fill in the blanks. “So, let me get this straight. You think that by getting on my good side, Death won’t murder you?” A wide grin stretches across your face, not the least bit friendly. “Oh, honey, you’ve got to do so much better than that. With what you’ve given me so far, the only kindness he’ll spare you is ripping your throat out quickly so you don’t suffer long.”

Take the bait.

“Oh, yeah?” A flicker of nervousness flashes across his face. He shifts his stance, arms crossing over his chest. “What would I have to do to not have that happen? I’m, uh, open to suggestions.”

Good, good, good.

“You get me the keys to these collars, I can guarantee you’ll walk out of here with every limb attached and not one drop of blood spilt.”

A long beat passes wordlessly. It would be completely silent if not for the baby’s quiet whining as he cuddles against you, unsettled by the tense atmosphere.

“You’re not the only one with trust issues,” Mayfeld says at last. “Maybe you can guarantee Death won’t kill me, but how do I know you won’t kill me with your bow yourself?”

You say nothing, not because you’re guilty of thinking of that specific scenario, but because you don’t know how to convince him you haven’t considered it. Anyone else in your same predicament would undoubtedly shoot him the first chance they got. He is an enemy after all. A minor one, true, but nevertheless contributing to the effort of keeping you separated from Din. He also clearly only has his own self-interest in mind, making him unpredictable and untrustworthy. Who’s to say he won’t attempt to double-cross you somehow?

All these reasons are valid and should make you hate him, but something inside of you isn’t allowing you to commit wholeheartedly to the feeling. And as much as it pains you to admit it, you know that ‘something’ is fear. You’ve never killed anyone before. Shot someone with an ichor arrow? Yes, several times, but not once was the wound fatal. As your list of escape options continues to dwindle though, you’re terrified of the possibility you’ll have no choice but to personally be responsible for ending someone’s life.

“There’s my answer,” Mayfeld says. His words are distressingly ambiguous, but it’s the way he bobs his head in a decisive manner and turns his back on you that causes your stomach to tie itself into knots.

Throat suddenly dry, you struggle to choke out, “Wait, I—”

He starts whistling an upbeat tune as he walks away, ignoring your attempts at reclaiming his attention. You listen hopelessly as the sound gradually grows farther and farther away, until eventually all you can hear is silence.

And once more, it’s just you and the baby alone in the cell.

~~

You lie on the pallet, staring up at the ceiling with the baby sleeping on your stomach. You reflect on everything that has happened since you left Arvala-7, taking every moment apart piece by piece to figure out what you know.

From what you’ve witnessed, you don’t think your superiors are involved in or even aware of Moff Gideon’s plans. Lang, Hess, and Morgan were his associates, not allies like he’d called Xi’an. The difference is subtle, but profound in meaning. You wonder if the three of them have had memories erased too, if they know Gideon was responsible.

He had told them you were being hidden away to prevent other Cupids from knowing you had a second soulmate, but that wasn’t the whole truth. Gideon wants you as his hostage because you’re Din’s soulmate. He wants to use you as leverage to get Din to do what he wants. Initially, you assumed that meant kill those who Gideon considered enemies, but that assumption was proven incorrect when you sent the message to Din without naming even one potential target.

Unfortunately, you think that is not the only wrong assumption you’ve made recently. Gideon had forced you to tell Din to let go. The bond had cried out with agony when you’d said the words out loud as it had thought you were telling Din to let go of you. But looking back at the incident with a clearer head, you find yourself wondering why hadn’t Gideon included those two extra words if that was what he meant? It’s not like there wasn’t plenty of space left to write them on the paper.

If he didn’t mean for Din to let go of you, then logically that would mean he wants Din to let go of something else. Something important enough that Gideon is taking advantage of your relationship in order to convince him to release it.

But what could Din possibly possess that Gideon wants this badly? Din doesn’t own anything valuable except for the Crest and his armor, and you doubt either of those will further progress Gideon towards his goal.

To finish what I started.

Hours later and you still can’t figure out what the kriff he’s talking about. No matter which way you twist or turn the phrase over in your mind, it’s incomprehensible. What did he start? When did it happen? How does he intend to finish it?

Considering how your previous assumptions were both flawed, you really shouldn’t be making another one, but you can’t get the moment of when he’d pressed the sword against your chest out of your mind. The action itself screamed intimidation as well as sexual harassment, but when you think about how he did it at the same time he revealed his goal, your gut instinct is telling you to definitely assume the two are connected to each other.

And then there’s Mayfeld’s comment about there being an inevitable clash between Din and Gideon. He had sounded so certain there would only be one victor, but, unlike you, he hadn’t immediately placed his bet on Din. Which makes no sense to you. Everyone knows it’s an indisputable fact Din is the most powerful entity in the universe, second only to the Maker. The chance of Gideon winning their fight is so slim it’s infinitesimal.

It’s sort of funny though, to imagine Din being defeated by Gideon’s sword.

It’s sort of funny, except...

Well.

It isn’t really funny at all.

~~

Over the span of Din’s existence, he had witnessed entire civilizations wiped out by war, genocide, disease. No matter the reason behind the tragedy, the universe always called him there in the final moments to walk amongst the ruins left behind, to watch those last to die mourn those who passed before them. In those moments, he felt powerless, knowing there was not one thing he could do to change any of it.

He realized the universe was trying to instill a lesson in him: what is meant to happen, will always happen. Regardless of who is hurt in the process.

And maybe he would have surrendered to the harsh teaching if his angel hadn’t been stolen from her rightful place at his side. No one, not even the fucking universe itself, is going to stop him from getting her back.

From their first meeting, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Then when she asked him question after question about his likes and dislikes, his hobbies, his favorite sights in the galaxy—he made the risky decision of trusting her. He revealed his face to her, allowed her to know every part of himself, and was stunned every time she didn’t fear or run away from what she discovered. He didn’t know whether to consider her stupid or brave, but the moment he first heard her laugh at one of his sarcastic quips he knew it was a sound he wanted to hear everyday for the rest of eternity.

When she showed him her marked hand, claiming they were each other’s soulmates, he swore to himself he’d dedicate himself to her happiness. Anything she wanted or asked for, he would give to her without question.

Except now she has asked him to do the impossible: to let go.

He replays the transmission enough times every word, every quiet hitch of breath, and every subtle twitch of her facial features is embedded in his mind. Bo-Katan heaves a sigh after the eighth loop, squeezing the bridge of her nose as if a headache was forming, but he can’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from the hologram long enough to glare at the reaper. She doesn’t have a soulmate, therefore she can’t even begin to fathom how it feels when his half of the soulmate bond slams itself against the invisible wall separating him from his angel with all the unhinged ferocity of a feral beast.

If Din didn’t know his angel as intimately as she knew him, he might have believed those were her own words coming out of her mouth. However, throughout the entire length of the message he notices how her eyes nervously flick to the side every few seconds, as if she needs to reassure herself someone offscreen isn’t making any sudden movements. It’s all the confirmation he needs to know she’s being used as a mouthpiece against her will to demand Din gives up searching for her.

Din refuses to yield to the whims of an enemy who doesn’t have the balls to face him directly.

He channels his seething anger into steadfast determination as he stretches his powers out across the galaxy for a second time, this time searching for the twi’lek Hess so graciously identified for him. Her being the one to have dragged his soulmate out of Cupid headquarters couldn’t have been a random circumstance. If she has even the slightest notion of who the elusive immortal is that is responsible for shielding his angel from him, he’ll beat the name out of her just as he had her Cupid superior.

Bo-Katan, never one to stand still when she can be doing something useful, sends a message out to her fellow reapers to fill them in on the developing situation. Only Din can give them orders to follow, but she strongly recommends they interrogate any Cupid they come across for information about Xi’an.

Transmissions start flooding in an hour later of reapers reporting what they’ve learned. Turns out Xi’an is the type of person who finds joy in antagonizing others. No one claims her as their friend nor do they know what region of the galaxy she usually operates in. The most interesting tidbit learned from the interrogations is that several Cupids have admitted they often saw the twi’lek in the archives at headquarters, studying datapads and flipping through holobooks.

“She was searching for something,” Bo-Katan murmurs, brow creasing thoughtfully.

“Or she was gathering information on someone’s behalf.” Din’s eyes remained closed, focus split between the conversation and the search. “Only Cupids are allowed at their headquarters. She’d have no issue slipping in and out without anyone giving her a second—”

Every soul has a unique aura that can only be sensed by power-sensitive beings like himself. No two are the same, similar to fingerprints and snowflakes. Having a specific target in mind hastens the search of detecting them amongst the trillions of other beings inhabiting the galaxy, but it is not the fact that Din’s powers have just locked onto Xi’an’s soul that has his eyes snapping open. It is her location.

She’s on Umbriel.

“Stay with the ship,” he tells Bo-Katan.

Din teleports before the reaper responds, arriving at the front entrance of his soulmate’s apartment in the next blink. The front door is wide open and his jaw clenches as he recognizes the gesture for the taunt it is. Rolling his shoulders back, he enters the apartment, purposefully shutting and locking the door behind him.

“About time you showed up.” As soon as Din hears her voice, he’s reminded of a loth cat screeching when its tail is grabbed. The anger he’s been forcibly holding back starts to simmer beneath his armor, fingers twitching at his sides with the desire to wrap around her throat and squeeze.

He finds a purple-skinned twi’lek Cupid standing in the center of the living room. Or, what used to be considered the living room at least. Every piece of furniture has been broken and torn apart. The pile of newspapers kept in the corner are shredded and scattered across the floor. If he didn’t know how precious they were to his angel in her quest to reclaim her memories, he wouldn’t have cared about the mess, but he does know and his wrath increases exponentially.

“Xi’an,” he says, the name bitter on his tongue like a curse.

“The rumor mill says you’ve been looking for me,” she drawls, looking coy and fluttering her eyelashes. “I gotta say, I’m flattered by the attention.”

“Tell me where my soulmate is and you won’t meet the same fate as your boss.”

Her head tilts, tapping her fingers against her chin in mock thoughtfulness. “Are you referring to Hess? I heard no one’s been able to reach him lately, but since I report to someone of much higher ranking I could hardly bring myself to care.” Her lips curl into a wicked smirk, revealing the faintest glimpse of her fangs. “You’ve piqued my interest now though, what’d you do to the bastard?”

“I ripped out his soul and crushed it into dust.”

She giggles, unpleasant and shrill. “How scandalous.”

His patience snaps.

“Enough of this.” He steps forward. “Tell me who you work for and where is my soulmate.”

A pair of knives appear in her hands, summoned in the same quick manner as his angel had drawn her bow.

“My answer to the first part is no. And as for the second, you need to be more specific.” She sneers. “Which part of her are you looking for?”

The noise that tears itself out of Din’s throat is one never made by another entity before. It is an outburst of ravenous fury, a promise of bloodshed and carnage, and a predator’s roar before they consume their prey all blended into one deafening war cry.

Xi’an maintains a brave face as she throws knife after knife at him, but as each one harmlessly deflects off his beskar and dissolves into a flicker of light, he sees her mask begin to crack, revealing her nervousness.

She resorts to throwing punches when he’s close enough, but there is no finesse and each one is sloppy. He catches her fist mid-swing with his own hand and twists, shattering her wrist. She gasps out a curse, but the unexpected reappearance of her mischievous smirk manages to catch him off guard.

“Are you gonna do it?” she asks, voice tight with pain, but the intent to provoke him is clear. “Unleash that beautiful darkness I can sense writhing around inside of you?”

He pins her against the wall harsh enough her teeth audibly clack against each other. Still she keeps smirking, still her voice drips like poison into his ears.

“You know you want to, sweetie, so just let go.”

Din’s powers lash out, incensed by those two words he’s sick of hearing. Latching onto her soul, she starts to choke, but the deranged glimmer of glee in her eyes makes him think she’d be laughing if she could.

Darkness starts to ooze out of his armor, resembling thick, black smoke. He can feel the sinister energy emanating from the very core of his being, as if the box it’s been trapped in has been unlocked and is seconds away from bursting open.

Some distant, far part of him is ringing every warning alarm and urging him to stop. But he ignores that voice of reason when he sees Xi’an’s soul start creeping up the back of her mouth, glowing brightly as it squirms in a futile attempt to free itself from the hold of his powers.

He grits his teeth, impatience prompting him to tug at it again, and—

The world lurches and transforms in a blur. When his vision adjusts, he’s no longer standing in his soulmate’s apartment, but instead surrounded by an abundance of scorched trees. Chest heaving, he struggles to clear his head of violent thoughts and make sense of what just happened.

Someone suddenly calls out from behind him, “I summoned you here to speak with you.”

Din recognizes the speaker’s voice before he actually turns to see the female togruta. She wears her usual blue-and-silver tunic and a brown headpiece embedded with a gem over her montrals. The ground is green beneath her feet, the only glimpse of flourishing nature for miles.

“I was in the middle of something, Ahsoka,” Din answers, stalking forward until they stand nearly toe to toe. He’s lost count of how many encounters they’ve had with one another over the years, but no matter the number he remains reluctant to consider her a friend since the Oracle has the irritating knack for disrupting his life when he least desires her presence.

She stands tall, but her hands move to rest on the hilts of the two sabers attached to her belt. “Have you forgotten your creed? When the universe needs you, you listen to it.”

“My soulmate needs me!” he shouts, trembling as another pulse of dark energy discharges from his body. It washes over Ahsoka like a harsh gust of wind, but while she remains unaffected, the patch of grass withers instantaneously.

“The universe recognizes that,” Ahsoka says, and while her calmness does nothing to ease his frayed nerves, her next words have him freezing in place. “And I’ll take you to her so long as you promise me one thing.”

Tentative hope slices through the erratic storm of frenzied emotions in his chest like a beam of sunlight. He searches Ahsoka’s face for the faintest hint of deception, but finds only sincerity.

“What is it?”

“You cannot kill Moff Gideon.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee​, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives​, @eleinemk​, @captain-jebi​, @aerynwrites​, @promiscuoussatan​, @stilllivindue2spite​, @coaaster​, @lin-djarin​, @oh-no-a-whovian​, @over300books​, @chibi-yuki​, @becauseican2, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @nicotinebirds

[l-wannabe-l]

Short Circuit

Chapter 5: New Avenues

Austin gets some distressing news, and a new enemy enters the ring.

Mostly a chapter of these two growing closer. Plus some plot I guess.

The roads thinned out the longer I drove. The Connor’s remained quiet for the most part, Sarah Connor the only one to speak giving me directions to avoid crowded roads. I didn’t need them, and the urge to take actions against her for daring to order me about is strong, but my mission and side objective are too important to risk aggravating the matriarch. She finally stops after one final order to pull into an abandoned garage next to a gas station. The T-800 leaves to open the garage door, the simple lock it has breaks under the sheer strength of the T-800 model. As soon as the car is parked the others climb out. Sarah quickly herds her children as far away from me as the small space will allow. I grant them their ill perceived safety as I walk along the wall on the opposite side. I stop near a door as I receive a message. A message sent by Skynet and received across time and space.

“Mission Failure”

My sudden inaction goes unnoticed by the eldest and youngest Connor but not by Aria.

“Austin, what’s wrong?” A certain lilt to her voice indicative of concern, similar to when she spoke to John and her mother. A concern more likely directed towards them, given the glimmer of fear still present in her eyes when she looks at me.

“Skynet has deemed me defective, my mission has been labeled a failure.” I respond, my voice ringing hollow even to me.

“You said you abandoned your mission. Why are you surprised?” She asks but her calm demeanor indicates she isn’t as surprised as her words make her out to be.

“I lied.” A strange feeling changes my tone without my say. A grave itching sensation as if something is trying to claw its way out from inside me. My teeth grind against themselves.

"So you were still planning to kill me." This time Johns is the one to speak.

"Of course I was!" I don’t have the patience to pretend anymore. Processing the news, and this new feeling takes precedence over keeping up the facade. I turn and walk out the door. Silence will be more beneficial to me than answering any banal questions they might have. The sound of the door opening again alerts me to Aria's presence, I see her just out of my periphery. The light from the gas station showing off the shine in her dark brown hair. She pulls her cardigan closed across her bare midriff. The night had dropped several degrees, she must be feeling the chill that resulted from it.

“You ok?” She asks. I understand this question to be a very common nicety among humans. Oftentimes an honest answer is not at all what the asker desires.

“I’m still in functioning form.”

“That’s… good but not what I meant,” She says, coming to sit next to me on the bench pulling up her legs to hold them close to her, “I mean what are you going to do now that you don’t have a mission anymore?”

“I still have one objective.”

“You do?!”

“I still haven’t been loved by you.” I tell her. She flinches back when I turn to look at her head.

“You were serious about the whole love thing?!”

“I was, still am.” Now without Skynet, the only purpose left to me is the one I assigned myself, “I don’t have any purpose otherwise. I was never meant to return to my time, Skynet would have no need for me anyway.” I tell her bluntly, that fact seems to change that clawing to a weighty bulk. My form sinking under it involuntarily. Aria lets go of herself, letting her feet hit the ground. She leans forward to meet my eyes, a smile just barely on her lips.

“Join the club. Looking for purpose is something every human struggles with.” She says as she stretches her arms upward. Her cardigan falls open to reveal a glimpse of a leather harness carrying a small sidearm. So that's where she got that gun.

“But I am not human.”

“No, but it looks like you’re going to have to learn.” She says as she stands. Most likely intent on rejoining her family but stops as she looks back at me. She lifts her hand, reaching out before pausing.

“Can I?” she asks. I nod. After all, there’s nothing she can do to harm me so what... oh. 

Oh

Slim fingers card through my hair, or what substituted for it. I register the warmth of her palm and the texture of her hand as she musses up the styling before working to smooth it back.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh right, sorry,” She removes her hand removing the warmth but leaving behind another new “feeling” to deal with, “Your second lesson, some people show affection through physical contact. The why and how depends on the situation and the type of relationship. I was... trying to comfort you.”

“Is it always like this, these signs of physical affection?”

“Not exactly, It’s usually only done when people are close to each other.” I stand to be more eye level with her, despite the obvious height difference. As I do I take note of the slim distance between us and her reaction, the dilated pupils that show off more of the forest hue of her eyes, and a slight hitch in her breathing.

“I want to be closer to you.” Her eyes widen at my words, a rosy dusting settles across her cheeks, curious, “How close are you to John?” Aria lets out a breath, body seemingly deflating at my question.

“Oh right, you want to be closer to me like John, my brother.” She remarks seemingly talking more to herself than to me. “I don’t know if there is a clear answer to that other than the fact that he’s my brother. Let’s just head back inside. We can figure the rest out later, Ok?” She looks at me one more time before turning away. I realize that her eyes didn’t show any fear or trepidation when she did. I follow after her back into the garage. When I enter I see the T-800 sitting in front of a mirror fixing up what looks to be a gash wound on his head. Carefully arranging his hair and tissue to conceal it. Sarah Connor stands between him and John who’s busy fiddling with a radio that was obviously taken from the police car.

“What did we miss?” Aria asked after taking in the sight.

“Mom and I cracked open his head,” John answered distractedly. Pointing vaguely in the T-800’s direction, “We reprogrammed him so now he can learn to be less weird.” They must have switched him from ‘Read Only’ to ‘Write’. Aria looks like she’s going to speak but is cut off by her mother who pulls her away to speak privately. It won’t do any good considering my sensors work at a higher capacity than a human’s so I take a seat on a nearby metal chair to listen in.

“Aria, I know I went along with this back at the hospital but if I understand correctly that thing was using a false truce to try and kill John later on?”

“That’s about it. He apparently played his part so well Skynet basically abandoned him because of it.”

“...It just admitted to planning to kill us.”

“Yes but he isn’t gonna now though, and isn’t that good news,” She said, but a tremble in her voice makes the statement sound more like a question. By the silence that follows Sarah Connor obviously doesn’t believe it. Aria lets out a tired sigh, “Mom, you didn’t see him out there, he just looked so... lost,” The admission has me looking over at them just in time to lock eyes with Aria before she quickly turns back to Sarah who isn’t convinced.

“That is still a Terminator.”

“All the more reason to have him here where we can keep tabs on him rather than out there doing who knows what.”

“Having both of those things around is just putting John in danger!”

“He’ll be in danger anyway. Skynet will try again and Austin has the most up to date information. If we turn him away we'll be exposing ourselves to dangerous surprises.” Sarah seems to concede, walking away to retake her place next to John. Who managed to get the radio working. The blank static from the police radio gives way to voices talking quickly about vandalism, murder, theft, more murder, and the missing status of a young girl. Kathrine Brewster.

Across town in the shopping district. A boutique window begins to light up, not by the electrical lights installed but by the streaks of lighting emanating from a silver sphere growing and heating up before bursting and disappearing in a blinding flash. A slim feminine figure is left behind crouching amongst the mannequins. The woman takes a moment to scan her new surroundings before looking at them. She doesn’t find what she’s looking for, the clothing they wear burned beyond repair and recognition. No way to make accurate replications. So she takes to the streets walking along the sidewalk, her long blond hair the only modicum of decency but she continues unbothered. A beep catches her attention; the sound comes from a car being unlocked. The woman who owns it walks quickly unaware of the newcomer or their intentions until she spots them after getting into her car. The woman’s nudity caught her by surprise. 

“Omg,” She whispers to herself in disbelief before the concern sets in, “Are you ok!?” She calls out in an attempt to help but receives no response from the approaching naked woman who is currently scanning her vehicle. While outdated to the mechanical being, it is rather high-end for the time. A good choice of transportation.

“Do you want me to call 911?” The woman tries again, thinking the poor girl in a state of shock or something of the like. The blonde finally faces her, giving a soft smile that doesn't reach her eyes and reaches forward to touch the clothing near her neckline. Fingers splayed and placed methodically to sample each type of fabric.

“I like this car.”

“What?” The woman asks, confused. Her last words before the Terminator quickly swipes her hand away, efficiently slicing her neck. She easily lifts the woman out of the car and drops her onto the pavement. Leaving her there to bleed out. Clothing reminiscent of the dying woman's begin to take shape on her naked form. Detailed down to the hair bun. She lets herself into the car before starting it up and driving off. She helps herself to the woman’s purse pulling out a cell phone, a quick disassembly gives access to the inner workings and the service it’s connected to. Liquid metal seeps into the SD card allowing her to search the database for names, faces and addresses. A list quickly forms of future enemies of Skynet, of people she is tasked to terminate. She charts a course for the nearest address. The Brewster residence.

[supercorpkid]

The adventures of Superboy and Superkid.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 1980.

When Conner shows up at your school you already know what to expect. Trouble. Every time Superboy shows up in your life things get simply out of control. He is there, waiting for you, with his incredibly long shoulders, a body that no teenage boy can actually build, and a smile that could melt anyone’s heart.

“Oh my God, oh my God. Conner is here.” Jamie is smiling so much next to you that you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“I can see that. He’s basically impossible to miss.” He waves at you, and you nod back walking towards him.

“Ok, listen, this time you have to help me.” You know what she’s talking about. She likes Conner. I mean, she and half of the girls in the school are basically making heart eyes at him right now.

“Yeah, I don’t know. Conner usually doesn’t show up to go on dates, he usually shows up asking for help because he did something stupid.” You answer, but you don’t think Jamie was listening to any of it.

“Cousin!” Conner says excitedly and you smile.

“Hey lab rat!” You come close enough and he pulls you in for a hug so tight is almost like he missed you. You smile again. You missed him too.

You’ve been calling each other lab rats for a while now. It’s insane to think that Conner is made from Superman’s DNA plus Lex Luthor’s. He’s somehow your cousin twice. And since you both were made in a lab, you two like to joke and call each other lab rats.

“Hey Jamie.” He says after he lets you go. They stare into each other’s eyes for a few good seconds. “Still looking pretty, I see.”

“Oh, hi Conner.” She smiles shyly. “Still looking handsome and all.”

He shrugs and smiles a little cocky. You roll your eyes at the whole interaction.

“So, what brings you to National City, lab rat?” You intervene before they start undressing themselves with their eyes.

“Oh, I just missed my cute little cousin.” He messes with your hair. You sigh.

“Cut the crap and tell me what happened.” He looks around telling you this is not the right place and you agree with your head. “Well, say goodbye now. We have to go.”

They hug, a really long hug. And Jamie is being weird and smelling his hair. They are so odd, and you have no idea why they just don’t kiss already.

“Bye, pretty.” Conner says and Jamie answers with instant heart eyes. You sigh again and pull him grabbing his t-shirt. He walks beside you and you two find an alley to make sure no one can see you both flying away to somewhere more private. You get to your training center; you take off your glasses to make sure no one’s around and he looks around too. He then comes back to you. “So, how have you been, lab rat?”

“I wanna say fine, but that would be a lie. Got shot with kryptonite the other day.”

“Really? That shit is painful right?”

“I mean, yeah. It’s horrible.” You are almost opening up more when you remember why you’re there. “So, what have you done now?”

“I might have pissed off Mister Freeze.” Conner starts and you already know so much more is coming. “He was doing some suspicious shit and I went to stop him, but it didn’t go very well. I didn’t know I could freeze. Did you know we could freeze?”

“You idiot!” You slap his chest and he doesn’t even flinch.

“I’m sure you’re right, but why this time?”

“Why would you try to stop him alone? Why didn’t you ask for Batman’s help? Or Batwoman’s, I don’t know.” You’re annoyed. Conner never thinks before acting and Mister Freeze is Batman’s villain or whatever.

“I can take him!” He crosses his arms making his chest grow even bigger.

“Then what are you doing here?” You raise an eyebrow and he smiles.

“We can take him!”

“Oh, dear Rao, I swear you’re going to be my downfall one of these days.”

“Yeah, but like, not today.” Conner smiles at you. “Come on, lab rat. We haven’t been on an adventure in a while. I promise your moms won’t hear a word about it.”

“Yeah, I don’t care about that.” You smile back at him. “Let’s do it. Let’s go to Gotham and kick some ass.”

You know you shouldn’t do something like this, and you also know it would be a lot easier to just call Supergirl and she could end this whole thing in less than a second. Come on, Mister Freeze got nothing on her. But you still want to prove your worth and you can hold your own in a fight. This could be a good opportunity, if you don’t mess it up.

“Yeah! Ok! Let’s do it. Team lab rats working together again.” Conner gets excited really fast. “Oh, let’s change into our superhero clothes.”

His superhero’s clothes consist in a black tight t-shirt with the symbol of the House of El and a pair of jeans, which is stupid. Your superhero’s clothes are, somehow, even stupider, because is Kara’s old suit minus the cape and the boots. Honestly, you look like a bad Supergirl’s cosplay.

“You look great! Very Supergirl-ish.” He holds his thumbs up with a smile.

“Shut up.”

“Seriously, the skirt is nice.”

“Seriously, shut up.” You punch him in the arm and he laughs. “Come on, Superboy, lead the way.”

Conner flies away and you follow him to Gotham. When you land there, you already know everything that’s been going on in his life since the last time you saw him and vice-versa. He leads you to the front of an ice castle and you breathe the new air. Gotham’s air sucks. Actually, Gotham sucks entirely.

“That’s his evil lair.” He points and you scoff.

“Fortress of Solitude rip-off.” You say and he looks at you confused.

“Haven’t been.” He shrugs, making you smile apologetic. You can’t believe Superman hasn’t taken him there yet. The whole experience is almost like a rite of passage. “Anyways, what do we do? Just burst in there and like, kick his ass?”

“Why am I not surprised that you don’t have a plan?” You ask, making him laugh and you have to think of a plan on the spot. “Ok, you already pissed him off so, yeah, you burst in there and distract him while I sneak in and try to figure out his plan and a way to ruin it.”

“See, that’s why we make such a great team.” He looks way too excited to do this. He studies your face for a while. “Are you scared?”

“No! I just have this terrified look on my face because we’re going to have so much fun!” You say ironically and he nods excitedly. He is like a puppy.

“Come on! It is kind of fun.” He pokes your arm and you roll your eyes.

“What is wrong with you? Is this because you were created in a lab?” You make fun of him and he laughs unbothered.

“Ok, where’s the girl that destroyed an entire mountain?” Now is his turn to make fun of you.

“I shouldn’t have told you about that.”

“Well, you did. Now you’re going to march in there and find out his plans and crush him into pieces for freezing your favorite cousin.” You just look at him blankly until he sighs and adds. “After Jamie.”

“Ok. Let’s do it! Let’s kick his ass and show my momma that I’m all about that superhero’s life.”

“Ok, ok. Slightly different motive. Still works. Let’s do it!” You two highfive and then he flies into the ice castle. You can see him breaking everything and you wait a little to go inside. When you do, you see Conner in a pretty heated argument turning into a fight with Mister Freeze, distracting him enough. It doesn’t take you long to find his evil plan. You might not know exactly what the machine does, but you know for sure it’s not a house heater. One shot with the heat vision and the whole thing explodes.

You fly away from the explosion and go to where the fight is happening to help Conner. He is inside a large block of ice. You can’t believe he got frozen twice. Such a loser. You shot the block of ice with your heat vision just in time, because soon Mister Freeze notices your presence.

“This isn’t your fight, Supergirl.” He says to you.

“Well, I’m not Supergirl, so…” You fly towards him with a close fist and hit him right in the face throwing him backwards.

Superboy finally completely unfreezes himself and joins you. While Mister Freeze is distracted with Conner, you pick up his own gun and shoot him. Soon he’s the one stuck in a very large block of ice.

“Yeah!” Conner celebrates throwing his fist in the air. “The lab rats do it again!”

You two laugh and hug. Then you realize you’re still in a super villain’s lair and that you two probably look really pathetic right now, so you stop the whole celebration part.

“Well, Superboy, hope to see you a lot more and, at the same time, a lot less.” You say with a playful laugh and he smiles at you.

“See you around, cousin.”

You fly back to National City with a proud smile on your face. You kicked some serious butt today and it wasn’t even that hard. Granted this super villain is kind of a mess, but you did it. Well, you and Superboy, anyways.

You’re back home with time to spare for dinner. Your moms are in the kitchen when you walk in and they both turn to you as soon as you step in.

“Hey kid! We’re making dinner, come help us.” Kara says with a smile and you sit on the other side of the counter. She realizes you’re not going to help. “Or you can just sit and watch.”

“Sure. I’m great at that.” You smile picking a baby carrot that Lena is currently putting in the salad. She looks at you and smiles.

“How was your day, babygirl?” Lena asks and you look at your backpack on the floor next to you. The super suit tucked in there and you smile lightly.

“Eh.” You pick another carrot from the plate. “It was fine. Yours?”

“So, nothing exciting happened today?” Kara asks. She has her back turned to you so you can’t see her face. You swallow.

“Um. Not particularly. Did something exciting happen to you?”

“Actually, yes.” Kara turns to you and looks right at your lying face. “Apparently, Supergirl was spotted in Gotham today.”

“Oh, you went to Gotham?” Lena asks looking at Kara.

“I did not. But she was there, y’know. Old suit in all its glory. Minus the cape.”

“Yeah, what is the cape for anyway? Capes don’t seem very useful. And it can get caught in an airplane propeller and like…” Kara and Lena just raise their eyebrows at you and you shut up.

“She also looked a lot younger.” Kara keeps going and you hold your breath. You got caught. No more running from it.

“Conner needed help.”

“Ah. Of course.” Lena laughs.

“Oh yes, Superboy was there too, did I forget to mention?” She says elbowing Lena and they just smile at each other like they know a secret you don’t. “So, did he have your back?”

“More like I had his.” You say with a cocky smile.

“Lucky him.” Kara winks at you and turns on her heels back to do whatever she was doing before. Lena is still cutting the vegetables and you stand there for a full minute waiting for them to ground you or yell at you, but they just go on with the dinner.

“That’s it? No lecture about going to Gotham and bursting into some super villain’s lair and destroying his evil plans?” You ask confused and Kara turns her face to look at you.

“No. Why? Did you do it wrong?”

“I-No!”

“Great. Oh, next time, maybe use your own suit.” Kara says and you furrow your brows.

“I don’t have a suit.”

“Well, then I guess we have to work on that.” Kara smiles again and you’re shocked. Did you really fly all the way to Gotham city to help Superboy and your momma just rewarded you with a super suit? I mean you’re not complaining, but is that really what just happened?

Notes:

I used Superboy origin story from the Titans show. Thought it made sense :)

[aporcelainphantom]

Diluc Ragnvindr x f!OC

As with my other fics, I will mark now that it is NSFW, but the content will be marked by post.

This is probably going to end up being very long. The worms in my head have already told me this.

CW: Violence, injury, hypothermia, mention of disposing of enemy bodies

Parts One, Two, Three, Four

Frigid air burned the tip of Ophelia’s nose as she watched Rosaria investigate the Fatui camp in the distance, wishing she had opted to stay in the city. Though she always was excited for Rosaria to ask her for anything, she hoped it would have been something less cold and violent for once. Though Rosaria was gifted with cryo, it always amazing Ophelia how she never seemed to be bothered by the weather on Dragonspine. Ophelia’s own body was far more plush than Rosaria’s, not to mention she always dressed for the weather. Yet Rosaria remained in her usual clothing, seemingly unbothered.

“Four of them, two have those damned cryo guns, the other two just have geo poles. If you can get the big ones wet first, I’ll freeze them so we can get them down faster. The geo ones shouldn’t be too hard” Rosaria explained, her eyes still trained on the camp. Ophelia nodded, raising her hand to summon her polearm. A crescent pike materialized, the tip beginning the swirl with water.

“Just tell me when, I should be able to douse them all in one go, let this weather begin to break down the smaller ones” she communicated, her polearm pointed to the ground. Rosaria signaled her after a moment, her own polearm now in her hand as well.

Arcing her polearm in front of the men, a wave of hydro splashed upon them as they prepared to react, seeming to have not noticed her until she was upon them. Rosaria followed quickly behind, a spear of pure cryo thrusting from her into the ground, the freezing pulses from it quickly stopping the men.

It wasn’t long before the two of them had wiped the camp, the adrenaline starting to fade as they checked the bodies and any bags around.

The chill was increasingly unbearable, Ophelia wishing she had been more careful to keep the small campfire lit during the fight.

“Hey, you don’t look so good, I still have things I need to do out here but you should get back” Rosaria spoke, concern crossing her face. “A storm is making it’s way across the mountain I assume, this level of cold is too much”

Ophelia nodded, taking deep breaths as she tried to remain calm.

“I don’t want to leave you though. Eventually you’ll get cold too. Plus, I don’t think I should head back alone, if I’m being honest” she confessed, pulling her scarf up over her nose.

“I’ve told you, there’s no need to worry about me. And I think your problem is about to be solved regardless.”

Ophelia followed Rosaria’s eyes, looking behind herself to see a burst of red in the snow.

“Diluc, I’m glad you’re here. We cleared this camp but the fire got taken out in the process. We could use your help.” Rosaria explained, motioning to the damp firewood in front of them. He nodded, looking the two of them over, alarm quickly apparent as he registered Ophelia’s state.

“Archons, yes, how long have you been out here?” He pressed, kneeling next to the wood as he conjured a flame, standing up as he put his gloved hands on Ophelia’s face, a soft moan emitting from her lips at his warmth.

“A few hours, but a storm is kicking up and I think the mix of that, the cryo agents, and her hydro sent her over the edge. I was just telling her she needs to get home, but she was worried about heading back down alone” Rosaria explained, warming herself at the small fire as Diluc checked Ophelia over.

“Those damn cryo guns are horrific, and they do seem to be worse for some hydro users. I’ll take her back to the winery, I want to make sure I can monitor her for a while.” He insisted, Rosaria eyeing him before nodding.

Leaning into his touch, Ophelia closed her eyes, her own gloved hand softly grabbing onto his arms.

“I’ll be okay if I just get next to the fire, Rosaria shouldn’t be alone” she said quietly. Diluc took her gloves off, placing his own on her instead after checking her fingers.

“Please don’t hesitate to stop by when you return to the city, but for now I’m going to get her back as quickly as possible.” He announced, nodding to Rosaria as he ignored Ophelia’s words. She nodded turning back to the fire as he wrapped and arm around Ophelia’s waist, keeping her close as he led her down the mountain.

Close to the base of the mountain he let go, adjusting himself behind her.

“I’m going to pick you up, we aren’t making fast enough time at your pace and I’ve already risked too much letting you walk” he insisted, getting himself ready

“Noooo, ‘m too heavy, ‘m fine ‘Luc” she slurred out, eyes closed. He shook his head as he lifted her bridal style, picking up speed. Immediately she pulled herself into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face, his warmth feeling like heaven.

It wasn’t long before they reached the winery, the door swinging open as Elzer let them in, his eyes filling with worry.

“She’s got hypothermia. Early stages but we need to get on it fast. I’m taking her to my room, please alert Adelinde.” Diluc commanded as he went up the stairs, not stopping as he spoke.

He sat her up on the edge of his bed, her eyes opening slightly as she took in her surroundings.

“I apologize but I am going to take off your outer layers. The maids will take care of the rest but I’m going to begin with them” he explained, leaning in front of her as he removed her hat and scarf. She nodded sleepily, working to keep herself upright. If all felt like a blur as he frantically removed her outer layers, sitting down next to her and holding her chest to his to help warm her core up as she closed her eyes once more.

[simonsrosebud]

Dalton + the foxes spring break trip

this was one of the first prompts sent for kalton and i’m SO SORRY that it took me this long, anon!! almost a month, now!!  okay that’s not really that long but still, i kept saying i’d have it and NOW I FINALLY DO!!!  (and she long too)

dalton’s sitting in the lounge while kevin gets his spring physical when allison comes through the room.  she backtracks when she sees him, and sits on the arm of his chair.

“getting excited for spring break?”  she shrugs her one shoulder at him.

dalton shrugs.  it might be nice seeing the girls.  “sure, might go home for the week.”

allison frowns.  she leans away from him and grabs his shoulder.  “you’re not coming to florida with us?”  and looks the other way when kevin comes out of abby’s room.  “did you not invite dalton to florida?”

kevin stops.  fuck.  “i was going to.”

dalton starts to smile.  “he definitely wasn’t.”

allison looks between the two of them and stands.  “okay, well, if this causes drama please call me over?  i’d hate to miss it.”  she sends a wink dalton’s way and heads into abby’s room for her spring physical.

dalton stands and grabs kevin’s hand to lead him back out to the car.  “i don’t care that if you don’t invite me, kev.  me hanging with your friends makes you nervous, but keep in mind that andrew approves of me?  remember the date to the zoo?  i know he’s who you’re actually worried about.”

kevin knows this.  god, he knows.  he remembers their double date to the zoo with andrew and neil- as awful as it was because animals make him nervous.  but it was obvious that andrew approved after he talked to dalton after the winter banquet, and neither were harmed or fazed.

kevin’s still trying to get the scoop on  that.

but he still can’t promise the foxes will behave, and a week with them without a way to get out?  scary.  it’s not like they’d be able to just go to dalton’s.

plus, the night they got him wasted and spilled some of kevin’s secrets still haunts him.

“i’ll think about it.”

two days later, kevin stops by dalton’s classroom before they start.  “you can come, but i’m not letting you do shit just to please my friends.  they’re assholes and we both know it.”  that’s fair.  kevin lowers his voice.  ”if they cross a line and you don’t call them out on it then they’ll keep going, and you won’t be having sex for the rest of the month, and i find you won’t like it.  got it?”

dalton’s smiling.  kevin’s 100% serious, and dalton knows he won’t hesitate to hold up his bargain, but he doesn’t care.  it’s wickedly entertaining regardless.  “yes sir.”

kevin nods, and goes to leave.  halfway out of the room he turns.  dalton’s students always watch him like hawks, but he’s used to it by now.  “i’m serious, miller.”

the house is bigger than their first spring break house.  it’s beach front, and if they have neighbors within a mile then kevin surely can’t see them.

he and dalton get one of the two bedrooms on the top floor.  it’s them, and allison in the room beside them.

the first day they’re there, after everyone’s settled, the drinks immediately start flowing.  dalton starts to get more clingy, and at one point they disappear for two hours.

when they come back, changed and showered, dalton sits on the sofa tucked into kevin’s side.  allison points a drunken finger at dalton.  “i’d ask you why you left, but i could practically hear you guys fucking just going up the stairs!”  she sticks a finger to her mouth to fake gag.

kevin’s not one to talk about his sex life with this crew.  and dalton knows this, but kevin can see a snarky remark brewing in his head anyway, so kevin decides he can indulge his boyfriend this once.  “just because you’re not getting dick doesn’t mean i can’t.”

nicky chokes on his drink.  “no way is kevin a bottom!”

a few wads of cash silently get handed to neil while the group reacts to his comment.

matt turns to look at them.  “eh, i guess i can see it.”

“me too,” dalton says.

aaron gags.  “i’d rather die than continue this conversation.”

the next day is going well until lunchtime when kevin, nicky, andrew, aaron, and himself are in the kitchen.  dalton has offered to make the sandwiches for the beach so long as in exchange for not having to drag one of the coolers down onto the sand.

“okay but for real, how do you put up with kevin?  we lived with him, but i can’t imagine dating him.”

“the same way i couldn’t imagine dating you, but erik can.”

aaron steals a piece of cheese from the pack.  “i’d pay someone to kill me.”

“you guys realize he’s sitting right here?”  dalton glances to kevin sitting at a stool to the island.  he looks unbothered.

nicky shrugs.  “yeah, but he’s used to us teasing him.”

“cause he knows he’s an asshole.”

“does he get pissy when you try to talk about anything other than exy?”

“he was an uptight dick when he first stopped drinking.  how does it feel to date an alcoholic?  kevin, how does a vodka sound?”  andrew raises a brow.  dalton notices kevin stiffen just a bit.  that one stung a little.

dalton clenches his hand on the knife and stops what he’s doing to look at andrew.  “you remember our talk, andrew.”  andrew stops.  “don’t talk to him or me like that ever again.  i don’t cross your lines, don’t cross mine,” he says.  “yes or no?”

andrew is still for a solid minute.  dalton knows he respects him just enough to stop when he says no.  dalton has proved himself, and andrew knows he isn’t intimidated by him.  kevin doesn’t even have that from andrew yet.

plus, dalton learned pretty quick how to speak his language.

which is why dalton waits for the nod he knows will come.  “i’ll indulge.”  and leaves the kitchen.

when he does he looks to the other two.  “tease me all you want, i’ve got tough skin, but insult my boyfriend or my relationship to my face again and we’re going to have real problems.”  he continues making the last sandwich of the bunch, his own.  “after all, aaron, i’m sure you don’t like it when the foxes all question why on earth katelyn would a simple minded seemingly homophobic dick when there are plenty guys on the football team that would kill for a chance with a cheerleader.”  he shrugs and takes a bite of his sandwich.

nicky looked guilty before, but after that he tries holding in a shit eating grin as aaron storms away.  when neil comes in a moment later confused, he asks, “why’s he pissed?”

“dalton came at his neck.”

neil, a little alarmed, takes a step away from dalton.

“that means he called him the fuck out on his bs, neil.”

oh.

“for what?”

dalton doesn’t care to stay for the rest of it.  he’s finished making sandwiches, and kevin looks smug where he’s sat.

“do good enough to keep sex for the month?”  dalton whispers and kevin tries not to laugh.  instead he takes dalton’s hand and leads him to their bedroom.

the next incident comes from the water balloons that dalton had brought.  no one notices they’ve disappeared until andrew comes through the house with a straight face and a bucket full of them.

he stands on the balcony that afternoon, pelting whoever went out on the deck with balloons.  and when dalton comes out with a few of his own he throws them right back.

but then neil comes out with more of his own, and matt joins neil’s side with a water gun.

dalton’s face falls.  “oh- oh this was not supposed to happen.”

as the attack starts, he tries to get back inside, but kevin is standing on the other side of the sliding door with a cocky grin, waving at him.

and the door’s locked.

“kevin!”

kevin cocks his head.  “i can’t hear you, d!”

dalton gawks, but then gasps when a bucket of ice water is dropped over him.  he looks up at neil leaning over the deck railing and laughing his ass off.  it’s a good thing he considers neil a friend.

kevin opens the door.  “sorry, i think the door must have been locked.”

dalton glares, and chases kevin soaking wet through the house.  when he grabs him by the thighs he lifts and throws him over his shoulder. 

“put me down or i- dalton don’t you dare throw me in the pool!”  he shouts when dalton runs out the door again.  and kevin shouts and grips onto dalton’s shirt as he jumps into the pool with kevin over his shoulder.

when they come back up kevin gasps and latches onto dalton.

“kev, i can’t carry us both!”  dalton jokes, kicking his legs to stay afloat.

kevin tries not to show his panic for a second.  he can’t touch the bottom.  “oh my god.”  his arms tighten around dalton’s neck, “i never learned how to swim,” he whispers.

dalton swims to where kevin can hold on to the ledge.  they’re both in their clothes, kevin even has socks on.

“you can’t swim?”

kevin shrugs and pulls himself out to sit on the concrete.  he peels his socks off, then his shirt.  dalton takes his shirt off, but he’s wearing swim trunks so he stays in.

“we never had the luxury of going to a pool or beach, i’ve only been to the beach a few times since i’ve come to south carolina.  i never go deep enough that i can’t touch.”

dalton holds a hand over his forehead to block the sun from his view.  kevin kind of looks like a god, backlit like this.

or an angel.

anyway…

“do you want me to teach you?”

kevin scowls a little bit, more to himself.  “don’t need to give them another reason to come at me.”

dalton nods.  he gets it, the foxes are a tough crew and kevin doesn’t always tell them when they’ve hit a nerve.  he just gives a “fuck you” and insults them back instead of telling them that he doesn’t like when they do ______.

to each their own.

but that night, dalton tells kevin to put his swim trunks on and meet him outside.  he’s in the pool when kevin opens the door.  “you know it’s like three in the morning, right?”

“you were up anyway.”

“sure, but not to go swimming.”  kevin sits on the edge of the pool.

dalton swims to him.  “what will it take for you to let me teach you to swim?”

kevin rolls his eyes.  he’s not doing this right now.  “d, i don’t go swimming.  there’s no point, really.”

“what if you’re on a boat and it sinks?”

“life jacket.”

“and if there’s not enough?  remember what happened in titanic?”

kevin glares.  they sit in silence for a minute, and eventually kevin looks his way again.  “what do you want me to do?”  he mumbles.

dalton pushes away from the wall.  “just swim to me.”

kevin stands.  “that’s not really teaching- oh!”  andrew rams into kevin to shove him into the pool, and dalton can’t really say he expected that, but it doesn’t surprise him once he registers it.  he knew andrew was awake when he passed him earlier.

andrew walked into the living room with a book in his hands, and stopped when he’d seen dalton.  “go to bed.”

“i’m waiting for kevin.”

“no fucking on the sofa, i’m not leaving.”  he said, and plopped down on the loveseat.

dalton kind of stammered for a second, and stood when kevin texted him back omw.

“i’m, no, we’re just going in the pool.”

andrew already had his book propped open.  “he can’t swim.”

“i’m gonna try to teach him.”  he’d said, and that was the end of it.

kevin gasps when he comes up from underwater, and on instinct swims to the edge of the pool and pulls himself out.  he goes to yell at andrew, but he beats him to it.  standing there, dry, andrew wipes a single splash droplet from his bicep.  “you can swim.”  and leaves.

dalton is grinning when kevin turns back around.

“i-i didn’t, i was already at the edge.”

“you swam like five feet, kev.  i think you’re capable of swimming, you’re just scared.”

he is not scared.  of water, for christ sake.

when dalton convinces him to get in the pool again, it’s just shallow enough that kevin can stand on his tip toes if he needs.  dalton is waiting on the other end.  kevin feels like a child.  “this is stupid.”

“just do it, and we can go have sex.”  and kevin isn’t even in the mood, because he’s still annoyed at andrew, but he’s not a coward anymore, so he ducks underwater and swims to his boyfriend.  when he gets close enough, dalton grabs his hands and pulls him the rest of the way.

kevin is smiling, a little.

he feels accomplished.  dalton isn’t stupid.

“okay, i didn’t include andrew in that, i promise, but at least we know you do know how to swim.”

and kevin literally has his lips on dalton’s.  he doesn’t want to think about andrew.  “shut up, please.”  and kisses him.

the only people who really get more color from the beach kevin, nicky, dalton, matt, dan, and allison.

neil’s is a special case, because while he gets tan, it’s only his legs, face, and arms to which he gains a wicked farmers tan that everyone teases him about.  he doesn’t really care.  you can only tell if he lifts his short sleeves, and since he never goes shirtless or wears tank tops, he can hide it.

aaron gets sunburnt, but that doesn’t count.

nicky claims that aaron always gets burnt, and that he’s never seen so much as a single patch of red skin on andrew.  only that he gets a little tan, sometimes, in the summer.

andrew decides not to let him be proven right (even though he is) and conceals himself under an umbrella, so no one knows for sure.  his armbands stay on, of course, and no one else is allowed to use his shade but neil and renee.

dalton plays football on the beach with matt and goes boogie boarding with neil and dan at one point.  and one day he surprises the group by saying that they should go surfing.

“you know how to surf?”  kevin flips his sunglasses up to look at his boyfriend clearly.  “since when?”

“we used to go on vacation to florida a lot, my grandparents used to have a condo.”

“and you surfed?”

“i mean, i’m no expert.”

kevin doesn’t care.  he’s seen surfers in motion.  it’s hot.  he wants to see dalton out there straddling a surf board.

but no one else knows how to surf, and they don’t feel like learning.  “we could go horseback riding like last year?”  dan offers.

dalton notices neil grimace.  kevin groans into his arm.  “what?”  he mumbles.

“i don’t trust large animals.”  he lifts his head up and points a finger at him.  “don’t make a comment.  that’s a perfectly valid argument.  they’re not to be trusted.  imagine if that thing kicked you in the face with a metal hoof?”

“aw, alright, it’s okay baby kevin,”  he pets kevin’s head, and jumps up and squeals when kevin lunges.  he tries to run, but falls behind tripping in the sand.  kevin grabs him from behind and jumps onto his back. 

dan turns to the group really quick.  “we all like dalton, yes or no, show of hands?”  everyone but aaron and andrew raise their hands.

neil looks back at him.  “andrew likes him.”

“aaron’s just still pissy that dalton told him to knock off the bs a few days ago.  he’s a yes.”

dan nods.  matt wraps an arm around her shoulders.  “man, i know kevin’s a pain in the ass, but it’s always just been his paranoia and anxiety.  the dude’s a little more fucked up than some of us.”

“that’s not necessarily relevant,” aaron says.

“no, i mean.”  matt shrugs.  “dalton’s good for him.  i think he’s helped a lot with that stuff.  he’s a good support system for kevin.  and a happy kevin is like the happy wife happy life thing, no?”

“you got that right.  plus, dalton’s not bad to look at.”  aaron kicks nicky’s foot.  “i’m allowed to acknowledge when someone’s attractive.  don’t tell me you don’t look at megan fox and go hm, she’s not bad to look at.”  aaron rolls his eyes.

allison looks out to kevin and dalton in the ocean.  they’re standing at almost chest deep, and dalton has one arm draped over kevin’s shoulder, keeping him steady, and the other pushing kevin’s hair from his forehead.

“this week was really fun.”

“i probably would’ve been annoyed at them all week without you here.”  dalton raises his eyebrows.  “you ground me.”

that makes him smile.  “i’m glad.”

kevin kisses him, and he means for it to just be chaste, but he goes in again because he can’t help himself.  and because he can.

dalton starts to smile against his lips, and slides a hand to the back of his head, through his wet hair.  “love you.”

kevin hums.  “i love you,” he mumbles, and when he pulls away he wraps himself around dalton in the water and drops his head on his shoulder.  thank god he invited him.

[juju-on-that-yeet]

Fall From Grace

Whumptober Day 28: Such Wow. Many Normal. Very Oops. Prompt: Accidents

A careless bullet from Wilford's gun hits Yandere as he's up in the studio catwalks, and what happens next reminds Wilford too much of memories long-buried.

Warnings: Blood, violence, falling from a height, traumatic flashbacks

Read on AO3 (Full Whumptober Series)

Enjoy!

~

It’s a normal day in Wilford’s studio, though it’s not a filming day. The usual players are around; Bim and Wilford half-rehearsing, half-editing a script while the Jims scamper around in the catwalks, as they often do. This time, though, Yandere is with them, venturing through the dark space and running across beams. Wilford hasn’t heard much from the trio since they went up there aside from occasional bursts of giggles, so he suspects they’re getting along well. A nice change, as the Jims usually seem a little frightened of Yandere, for reasons Wilford can’t fathom at all. Who could be scared of his adorable, stabby little brother? Either way, the three seem to be having fun together now, which is more than could be said for Bim and Wilford. The script felt right when they first wrote it, but its chinks and mistakes are making themselves known as they rehearse it, resulting in edit after edit.

“Ugh, this blasted script!” Wilford mutters, pacing in annoyance. At some point he pulled out his gun in anger, though he’s now only using it to scratch an itch behind his ear. “I thought you knew what you were doing with this, Trimmer!”

“Hey, how is my fault!?” Bim cries, “You wrote on this as much as I did, and we’ve corrected plenty of your mistakes so far, by the way.”

“Plenty of yours, too!” Wilford insists. He waves the manuscript for emphasis. “You keep using too many words to say the simplest things! Real people don’t talk like that!”

“And you insist on paring down everything until it doesn’t make sense!” Bim retorts, “We have to give people something, or else they’ll get bored!”

“And your long-winded lines won’t bore them just as much?” Wilford scoffs, “If anyone in the room knows about entertaining, I think it’s the face of Mark’s whole channel, don’t you?”

“I look more like Mark than you ever did, you egomaniac!” Bim cries, then blinks. “That’s not the point, the point is that your lines suck and we’re gonna be fixing them all day!”

“Maybe once we fix yours!”

“Yours first, Pinky!”

The argument continues. Even Yandere and the Jims can hear them from the catwalks. The Jims are amused, Yandere is bewildered.

“Do they always argue like that?” Yandere asks, peering as far down as he can without losing his balance.

“Yep,” RJ replies, “They yell and yell, and sometimes Pink Jim fires his shooty, but they always work together later like nothing happened!”

“Huh,” Yandere muses, standing up straight again, “I can see that. Anyone else arguing with onii-san like that would’ve been shot by now.”

“PJ looks like he’s going to shoot something soon,” CJ signs, before literally pointing out the way Wilford is waving his gun around.

“Oh, maybe I spoke too soon,” Yandere says, though he seems unbothered by the prospect of Bim getting shot.

“Pink Jim never shoots Bim Jim!” RJ exclaims, then pauses. “Well, not on purpose. He’ll probably fire into the ceiling or something.”

True to form, Wilford aimlessly fires his gun right then, straight over his shoulder and into the catwalks – where it whizzes right past the group. CJ yelps and jumps, and RJ looks behind himself, searching for where the bullet went.

“That was close!” RJ says, “Right, Stabby Jim?” He gets no response, but hears a gasp from CJ. “Stabby Jim?” he repeats, turning to look at Yandere.

Yandere looks back, eyes wide, hands over his stomach, blood seeping rapidly through his fingers. He lists to the side, tries to step back to right himself. But his foot touches air, and he slides off the catwalk beam before the Jims can even reach for him.

They do anyway, though, crying out as Yandere falls straight down.

Bim and Wilford hear them, look in their direction with just enough time to see Yandere hit the ground with a thud, right on his back. He doesn’t get up.

“Oh, fuck–” gasps Bim, running past Wilford to get to Yandere. Wilford teleports instead, poofing to Yandere’s side.

“What on earth??” Wilford mutters, “Yan’s balance is better then mine–”

“Wil, he’s bleeding!” Bim shouts, kneeling down to Yandere, “When you fired your gun just now, it must’ve hit him, that must be why he fell! Oh shit, fuck, Yan, wake up–”

Yandere doesn’t. He lays motionless, eyes closed and limbs strewn like a doll aside from the one arm still laid across his bleeding stomach. Blood starts forming a pool around him. Wilford stares at Yandere, eyes getting wider by the moment as Bim frantically putters around him. He tries checking Yandere’s breathing, as much as he can without moving him.

“Oh no, Wil, I don’t think he’s breathing,” Bim gasps, looking to Wilford. “What are you waiting for, go get Doc! You can teleport faster than I can run!!”

Wilford can’t move. He can hardly think, except to remember something half-forgotten. Another body fallen from a height, another body with Wilford’s bullet in its gut. Everything feels like slow-motion, even as the pool of blood around Yandere creeps ever wider.

“It was an accident,” Wilford gasps. It’s all he can say.

Bim’s eyes widen with recognition as the Jims, having finally climbed down from the catwalk, run towards the group.

“We tried to catch him, we tried!” RJ exclaims, already in tears. CJ is crying, too.

“You can still help out,” Bim says, resolute and taking charge, “You two are the fastest runners here, go get Doc. Tell him what happened and that Yandere isn’t breathing.”

They nod before running away, so gangly it’s a wonder they don’t trip over themselves. But Bim’s right, the pair are faster runners than all but the androids. Dr. Iplier will arrive soon, but in the meantime, Yandere’s not the only one in trouble. Wilford is still frozen, still staring at Yandere with wide eyes, clouded over by the past. Ever since those videos Mark put out, all the egos have known about Wilford’s history, and Bim knows exactly what Wilford is thinking about now.

“Wilford,” Bim says, turning to his friend, “You need to get out of your own head. Where are you right now, can you tell me?”

“Was it my fault?” Wilford asks, voice small, accent nearly gone.

“No,” Bim replies immediately, “You didn’t know that would happen when you fired your gun, it was an accident.”

“An accident,” Wilford breathes, “An accident, that’s all it was…”

At that moment, Dr. Iplier comes running in, medical supplies in his arms.

“Doc!” Bim cries, relieved, “Oh thank god, where–”

“Back away!!” Dr. Iplier barks, rushing to Yandere’s side and dumping his supplies beside him. Bim scrambles away to give him space to work. “The Jims are getting Plus, I already know I’ll need his help with this.”

“Is Yandere–?” Bim asks, nervous.

Dr. Iplier checks Yandere’s pulse with two fingers on the nearest wrist, which happens to be the one covering his bloody stomach, and then leans down to listen for his breathing. After only a moment, he straightens up.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he mutters as he starts chest compressions, “I haven’t done a hundred surgeries on you just so you could fall off a catwalk and die.”

“What if his back is broken?” Bim asks, wincing at the force of Dr. Iplier’s chest compressions.

“His breathing is more important than his back right now,” Dr. Iplier answers tersely, though he does pull Yandere’s lower jaw down to give him rescue breaths instead of tipping his head back.

He does one round of compressions and rescue breathing, then two. The whole time, Bim looks on with increasing anxiety, whimpering to himself in fear. Wilford continues to stare, the only change being the tears that start rolling down his cheeks. His mind is trapped in the past, back in those hours he spent staring at a body that wouldn’t move.

Finally, in the middle of the third round of compressions, Yandere gasps awake, coughing slightly and beginning to struggle. He doesn’t seem able to speak yet, still so winded and in pain he hardly knows what’s happening around him.

“Hey, lay still, Yan,” Dr. Iplier orders, though a measure of tension has left his voice and demeanor. “You fell off the catwalk, you might have a spinal injury. Can you wiggle your fingers for me?”

Yandere does, curling them back and forth.

“Alright, how about your toes?”

It’s hard to see through Yandere’s shoes, but he does move his toes. Dr. Iplier gently puts his hand on each shoe, one at a time, to feel the toes moving underneath.

“Alright,” Dr. Iplier sighs, even more relieved than a moment ago, “You have no idea how lucky you are, kid.”

“So his spine’s okay?” Bim asks, breathless with his own relief.

“Probably,” Dr. Iplier says, “But he could still have some fractured vertebrae, so he needs to be moved very carefully. I won’t do it until Plus gets here.” The sound of running footsteps pierces the air. “Speaking of…”

Plus strides into the room at top speed, pushing a stretcher with a backboard on top. CJ comes running in after him.

“Where’s RJ?” asks Bim, finally getting some breath back.

“We split up to look for Plus,” CJ explains, “I’m not sure where he went, but I’ll text him that I found Plus already.”

“Plus, help me get Yan onto the backboard,” Dr. Iplier says. Plus nods and gets to work. Dr. Iplier pauses a moment. “Looks like I need a third pair of hands. Bim, come over here.”

“Me?” Bim asks as he comes over.

“Someone has to put pressure on Yan’s bullet wound, it’s been bleeding too long already.” Dr. Iplier grabs a pack of gauze out of his med kit and hands it to Bim as he kneels down. He moves Yandere’s arm out of the way, revealing the wound. “Just keep pressing down on it with the gauze. If the gauze gets soaked through, tell me.”

Bim nods and starts putting pressure on Yandere’s wound, making Yandere whimper.

“Dad,” Yandere says, his first word since waking.

“You’ll be alright, hon,” Dr. Iplier tells him gently as he and Plus strap Yandere to the backboard and Bim keeps his hands pushing down. “Just keep staying still, alright?”

“Okay,” Yandere answers, too tired to do much else.

“Alright, he’ll be okay,” Bim sighs to himself.

“Doc,” Wilford gasps, speaking for the first time in a while, “Is it my fault?”

“Well…” Dr. Iplier says, unwilling to say “no.”

“What the hell, Doc!?” Bim cries, angry on Wilford’s behalf.

“Excuse me for not being very forgiving to the guy who shot my son and made him fall off a catwalk!!” Dr. Iplier snaps, beginning to wrap a cervical collar around Yandere’s neck. “It’s a miracle Yandere isn’t paralyzed, it’s a miracle he’s alive at all! So sorry for not pretending this wasn’t Wilford’s fault. I’ve told him a hundred times to be more careful with that gun.”

“I’m sorry,” Wilford murmurs, so quiet it’s hard to hear.

“That’s my line,” Dr. Iplier mutters, though most of the venom is gone from his voice as he focuses on Yandere.

Perhaps fortunately, Wilford doesn’t react. He’s still too shell-shocked to do much at all. Now his mind conjures memories of the dead body on the floor rising from the grave, getting back up and wandering to a mirror. The mirror cracked, and Wilford had, too. Not even in his nightmares has the image been as clear as it is now, watching Yandere get strapped to the backboard and a cervical collar get wrapped around his neck, hearing his voice. Yandere’s eyes land on Wilford, and he tries to smile reassuringly through his pain and blood loss. It makes Wilford move for the first time in minutes, but only to take a nervous step back. All he can see is a once-dead thing, moving with new, cursed life.

As if on cue, a burst of wind rushes through the studio as Darkiplier appears in the room with RJ beside him, who looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. And no wonder; Dark’s face is a picture of rage, but the screams and waving of his aura betray his inner fear. RJ must have ran into him while looking for Plus.

“What the hell happened to Yandere??” Dark growls.

“He got hit by a stray bullet while he was up in the catwalks,” Dr. Iplier explains, grabbing the backboard behind Yandere’s head as Plus does the same by his feet. “You’ve missed all the action, we’re just getting Yan to the clinic. He’s not paralyzed, luckily, and his time looks pretty decent for what he’s just been through.” He turns away from Dark to address Plus and Bim. “On three, Plus is lifting with me, and Bim, you’re following along and keeping the pressure on Yan’s wound. One, two, three–”

Plus follows effortlessly and Bim follows less so, but Yandere gets on the stretcher easily.

“Alright, Plus, you push Yan to the clinic, and I’ll take bullet wound duty from Bim,” Dr. Iplier says, stepping around the stretcher to stand in Bim’s place. Bim doesn’t need to be told twice, moving out of the way quickly. “He still needs x-rays and surgery,” Dr. Iplier tells Dark, “So you can’t have a moment with him yet.”

“Yami,” Yandere says, smiling faintly, seemingly too out of it to say much else.

“You’re alright, my love,” Dark murmurs to him, “I’ll see you soon.” He nods to Dr. Iplier, and he and Plus whisk Yandere away.

Left in the studio are Bim, the nervous Jim twins crowding around him, Dark staring after Yandere, and Wilford now staring at nothing. A moment later, Dark turns back to the others and sees the look on Wilford’s face. He sighs.

“How long has Wilford been like this?” he asks Bim.

“Since he realized he shot Yan by accident,” Bim answers, bracing for Dark to react badly.

Instead, Dark only sighs again. He understands immediately.

“You and the Jims go,” Dark says, waving them off, “I’ll deal with this.”

Bim is reluctant to leave Wilford in such a bad state, but he does, ushering the Jims out of the studio with him. Once they’re gone, Dark turns to Wilford, putting his hands on his shoulders. The touch makes Wilford jolt. He finally looks up at Dark, eyes churning with emotion.

“Is it my fault?” he asks.

“Does it matter?” Dark counters, though his voice is gentle. “What happened has happened, it can’t be changed.”

“It can’t be changed,” Wilford repeats.

“But this isn’t like last time,” Dark continues, “Yandere survived. He’s going to be fine.”

There’s a silence as Wilford contemplates this.

“It’s too much to ask for forgiveness,” he finally murmurs, “It’s hard to even remember all that I’ve done.”

“What happened to Yandere happened minutes ago,” Dark reminds him, “Your memory isn’t that bad yet, my friend.”

Wilford smiles a little. His eyes look a little clearer, there’s a little more color in his cheeks. But a part of him is still far away.

“If it was my fault or not, I still…” Wilford trails off, as though he isn’t sure what he’s trying to say.

“This was ignorance and bad luck,” Dark tells him, “This wasn’t malice. Intent does matter.” He lets his heretofore stern tone drop into something softer. “You know how much Yandere loves you; even if you had killed him he’d still find some way to forgive you.”

Wilford laughs, quiet and surprised but genuine all the same. The last of the cloud leaves his eyes and his expression.

“Right you are, my friend,” Wilford chuckles, his accent fully returned. He blinks, looks around. “Say, where’s Bim? We still have a script to go over!”

“He left,” Dark says, taking his hands away from Wilford’s shoulders, “I doubt he’ll be in the mood to edit a script after all the…excitement.”

“Well, he’ll just have to deal with it,” Wilford huffs, though his tone is good-natured as he brushes past Dark. “We have a deadline to meet, and we’re burning daylight! He can’t have gone far…”

Dark watches Wilford leave the studio. Once he’s gone, he allows himself some sadness, lets his aura shudder and scream like it’s wanted to the whole time. After a few moments, he gains control of himself again and teleports away to the clinic to wait for Yandere, leaving the studio empty.

[honeydots]

174 for the persona topic of ur choice [big eye emojis]

“I don’t owe you a damn thing”

Summary: A week after the announcement of Akira’s death, a certain Goro Akechi walks into the café, leaving Akira with limited options and an exciting new high. 

- 

(ao3 link)

-

Sojiro left to get cigarettes. 

The café was quiet as usual. Akira tried to eat his curry as slowly as he could, savoring each bite like it was his last. His days were slow now, and tense. Eating was one way to fill up his time. Chew, swallow, repeat. Chew, swallow, don’t think about the yellow bruise on his jaw and how it aches when he bites, repeat. 

Morgana lounged on the counter next to him. Akira would sometimes offer his spoon and let him lick off the remains. It felt normal, and it felt safe. Safe enough that he could take off his stuffy hood in there, confident that there was no one to hide his face from. 

The announcement of his death had been just over a week ago. Thinking about it gave him a high, a tingling buzz in the back of his head. Another way to keep himself entertained during long mornings. He was buffered and bruised, but still up and kicking. It was easy to remember how hard his heart pounded, and how each pulse fueled his ego a bit more. He had been scared out of his mind, and that was just where the thrill lied. 

But the highs would come down and the excitement would leave, and he would be left sitting in a café, laying low and silent. His only job now was to heal and prepare himself for their next battle. Which, as fun as a rush of adrenaline could be, was nice in itself. He could relax a while, switch himself onto a lower setting. 

The door chimed, and Akira figured it must’ve been Sojiro back from his errands. He turned to nod a greeting. But, with a surprised spurt from Morgana he froze in his seat, faced with the walking and talking front of who he was supposed to be hiding from.

Goro Akechi stood at the door frame with a neutral expression as he scanned Leblanc up and down. Jacket done up neatly, gloves pulled on, he looked just as unbothered as he would when he’d made a habit of coming over before November. 

Akira felt every muscle in his body tense. He’d let his guard down and was about to pay for it. His mind was moving a million miles a minute. He wondered if he could escape him. That, or he could go on the offence. Tie up Akechi and gag him, call the thieves and figure something out together. Though that wouldn’t be so easy, especially since he could have a gun on him. The thought gave him goosebumps. 

Akechi looked him in the eyes, and Akira got ready to run. This was it. If he reached for his pockets, Akira could duck down and dodge, shove a chair in his way and run upstairs to the window. If he tried to jump him plain and simple, Akira could strike first, and maybe have Morgana make a swipe at his face. He could do this. He could do this. 

But Akechi did not reach for his gun. Nor did he take a step. In fact, he hardly moved at all, aside from his expression easing into something calm.  

“Ah, good. I was worried you might be sleeping,” he said, instead of,  “This is it, Kurusu! Time to die!” like Akira thought he would. 

Akira stared at him. Had Akechi known he’d be here? Had he known he was alive? He gulped and kept himself tense, trying to steady his breathing. He couldn’t get distracted here— if he missed something it could mean game over. 

“Akechi,” Morgana sneered, his hackles beginning to raise. Akira barely spared him a glance. He idly hoped that at least he’d be able to get out safe. He could alert everyone else. That was, if Futaba wasn’t already listening in on their conversation. 

He could feel Morgana’s animosity from where he sat. Akira knew he was thinking about protecting him, but he wished he wouldn’t. One of them had to get out of here unscathed; everyone was going to be in danger unless they did something. Akira could feel sweat beading on his forehead. 

Akechi, on the other hand, seemed entirely unbothered. Shoulders lax, soft breaths. Akira had to fight feeling assured to his presence. He couldn’t afford to lose himself relaxing into his company. Not now. 

“That’s quite the tone you’re taking with me,” Akechi sighed, shrugging. “Though, I’m not really surprised. I wouldn’t expect most to place their faith in me again.” 

That was a peculiar line. At least it might’ve been. Akira hoped he wasn’t reading too deeply into his actions, but there was something about him right now. He wasn’t acting hostile, or even angry. It wasn’t like he was trusting him, but the whole atmosphere was off. 

Akira felt his phone buzz several times in succession. He assumed that was Futaba. She’d probably picked up on Akechi being in the café. That was a relieving safety net. He couldn’t pick up now, though. His full attention remained on his personal headsman. 

Akechi walked a few steps towards them. Akira maintained a very watchful eye, but didn’t try to make a run for it. His gut told him that this was the best move for now. He adjusted a bit in his seat, staying prepared to jump if he needed to. 

But somehow, he was getting the feeling he wouldn’t. Akechi seemed relieved. Akira didn’t know what to make of it. 

He looked Akira up and down, keeping that easy expression on his face. “At least you’re healing well. Not to say a ragged look isn’t befitting of you.” 

Akira raised his eyebrows. In any other situation, he would’ve cooed back something snarky. But his mind was focused on trying to understand what he’d just meant. The pit in his stomach was diminishing with every word. What was going on? Why was he being so friendly? 

Morgana beat him to asking. He clicked his tongue.

“What’s your game here, you traitor.” 

Akechi’s expression didn’t falter. He hardly missed a beat. “My, is my visit really so unexpected? How peculiar. I presume you did explain to everyone, Akira-kun?” 

No, he had not explained to everyone because Akira, undoubtedly, had no goddamn clue what was going on. This was the first time he had seen him in person since the palace. He hadn’t even tried to communicate with him, lest he get arrested and shot for real this time. There was absolutely no piece of conversation Akira had been able to catch onto. 

But instead of expressing any of that, he said “Yup,” and added, “Morgana’s just a little testy right now,” as an afterthought. 

“Wha—” Morgana stuttered, not hopping on to Akira’s new and very quickly improvised plan of  “well, might as well see where this goes.” If Akechi wasn’t shooting up Leblanc, then what could the harm be? He ignored the dam in the back of his mind keeping back all the certainly harmful ideas.

Akira acted like he didn’t hear Morgana, and tried to adopt a more relaxed pose. He hoped he’d realize, but if he didn’t, that would be okay too. Morgana was easy to play off, and Akira was nothing if not intrigued. 

His phone buzzed again. A little more fanatically. Sorry, Futaba. Right now wouldn’t be the best time to yank it out and explain himself. She’d need to hold on a little longer. 

Akechi grinned, looking satisfied. Akira considered that a big plus in the bullshitting direction.

“I see. Perhaps I’m on edge, too. Though really, with all the hoops I’ve jumped through for you, can you blame me? I’ve done a bit more than lounge around as a café pet.” 

Morgana’s tail shot straight up. “Don’t call me a pet!” 

Akechi chuckled, and Akira smiled a bit. It was very familiar, and Akira had to remember not to sink into the feeling. He tried to keep his head up and ready, since this could still be an elaborate scheme on Akechi’s part, but he’d already missed this. He’d already missed him. It wasn’t going to be easy to fight him again, if it came down to it. 

Akechi leaned down to Akira’s level. Akira, in turn, propped his chin up on his fist. Performative, but natural. It made Akechi’s grin spread wider. 

“I’d like to speak with you privately, if you don’t mind?” Akechi said, syrupy and smooth.

Akira knew one thing for sure. Agreeing to this would be a very, very bad idea. Whatever trick Akechi had up his sleeve was a card none of them had seen before, and one that no one had anticipated. 

But there was something weird going on. There were better and more efficient methods of going out for Akira’s head than this. Akechi didn’t seem like the type to bother with small talk, especially not after he’d already tried to kill him once. His motives were already known, so there was unquestionably something up. 

And Akira couldn’t deny how excited he was getting, either.

“Sure,” he said, earning himself a pointed look from Morgana and another flurry of texts. He ignored them both in favor of his swelling suspicions. He decided he would take this as far as it could go. Who knows, this could save their necks, even. 

Akechi stepped back a bit. “Then lead the way.” 

Akira scooted out of his chair and rolled his shoulders back. Morgana was looking back and forth between them frantically. 

“Wait, what? Where’re you going?” Morgana stammered, his tail now flicking nervously. “You’re gonna go with him? Alone?” 

Akira tried to give him a confident look, that he knew was probably not going to do Morgana any favors. “Watch the café for me.” 

“Huh!?” 

The two of them walked upstairs, leaving Morgana to fend for the café himself. Akira did feel bad, but it wasn’t like he could sit him down and explain his plan (that “plan” being basically nonexistent anyway) with Akechi around. It might be easier to do this on his own, too. Akechi was notoriously difficult to figure out, and he’d need to be on the lookout for any stray hint he could get. 

Akira sat down on the foot of his bed and, to his surprise, Akechi joined him there. They were shoulder to shoulder, though not quite touching. Akechi tended to keep his distance, so if there were any concrete indicators that he was acting up right now, this was one.

Akechi set his briefcase down in front of them. He gave way a long exhale, and Akira could literally watch the tension leave his shoulders. It was nice to see if he was being honest. 

They were silent for a little while. It was almost a nervous quiet, but not in a jarring way. It was light and anticipating. An all around pleasing mood, which made it hard for Akira to stay on his toes. 

“I appreciate you putting up with my antics,” Akechi started, breaking their shared silence. He didn’t meet his eyes. “But you can imagine this hasn’t been the easiest cover up.” 

Akira didn’t reply. He needed to know more before he tried to make a counter. Akechi was smart and observant, and Akira knew that if he slipped up that this could turn sour. Though, that was a sound start. More confirmation that Akechi for whatever reason did not think Akira had died.

He continued. “I didn’t think you’d listen when I asked you to keep from contacting me. Though I’m glad you did, because I think there’s a chance I’ve been hacked.” 

Akira almost flinched, thinking about how that hacking was definitely the work of Futaba. He was surprised Akechi had noticed. Though, he’d probably argue something among the lines of you can never be too thorough, to which Akira would laugh in his face, him being the biggest loose end that had ever escaped his grasp. 

He thought more on the first half of his spiel. Akechi had, allegedly, asked him to do something. He wracked his brain for any memory of a conversation they’d had like that. Akira was prone to hanging on to their interactions. It seemed really unlikely that he would miss something so important. And even while he’d been drugged in the interrogation room, he had been more than aware enough to remember that Akechi had never paid him a visit. The only “Akira” Akechi had seen was his cognitive form. 

That train of thought caught Akira’s attention. His cognitive form?

Akechi carried on undisturbed. “That’s why I didn’t text you before I came, by the way. I’ve been too busy to get it checked out. And your identity being revealed is too big of a risk for the both of us.” 

Akira was hardly listening. He thought he might be onto something. If their plan had gone accordingly, then the last time Akira had seen Akechi was in the palace. But the last time Akechi saw, or thought he saw Akira, was in the interrogation room. 

“I understand that I’m the reason you ended up in that situation, but you know we can use this position to our advantage, don’t you?” 

Which meant, whatever last interaction Akechi remembered he had with Akira was actually with the cognitive form of him in Sae Nijiima’s cognition. 

“We probably share a similar goal now, anyway. Though, don’t think I’m going to change my stance just like that. I have a way I plan to go about things.” 

Akechi should’ve killed that cognitive form of Akira. But there could be a chance that wasn’t the case, no matter how small. And if that was so, then… 

“I am willing to make a sort of compromise with you. But, compromise means both sides are satisfied, so you must also let me have my own leeway.” 

What had the cognitive Akira done with Akechi that Akira didn’t know about?

“...Akira-kun? Are you alright?” 

Akira jolted. He looked at Akechi straight in the eye. What had he been saying? He’d gotten too lost in his own thoughts. 

Akira blinked a couple times. Yes, he was fine. Start there. 

“Uh, yeah,” he said, which only made Akechi look more suspicious. Okay, shit. He needed a reason why he’d been spacing out. “No, I am, it's just… um. It’s nice to see you again, is all.” 

Which wasn’t a lie. He was very happy Akechi was here with him. Nothing had stung more than his betrayal. The idea that they’d found a way to come to an understanding was fantastic. But that was like a single match in a dark tunnel. Figuring out his cognitive form had done something to convince Akechi to (...probably?) not kill him was great; but making this work was going to take more effort than that. 

His reply got more of a reaction out of Akechi than expected. It made him gulp and look down at his hands. 

“Ah, well. Yes, it’s good to see you too. I must say it was a relief to see you had made it out just fine. Not that I expected any less.” 

He was fiddling with his fingers a bit. Akira fixated onto the motion. A nervous habit? Why was he nervous? He’d never really seen him like this before. Which could mean, maybe, his cognitive form had? 

Okay, he was not about to be jealous of a cognition of himself. He didn’t even know what he’d done in there. Jumping to conclusions was the wrong way of going about this. 

He tried thinking about what he’d told Sae-san, but that night had gone by in a haze. He must’ve given off some sort of impression to her that made the cognition figure out a way to dispel Akechi’s attempted murder. Maybe it would be better to think what he might say while on a load of drugs. 

Not... an encouraging thought. He could’ve said almost anything if that was the standard. Had he convinced her that he was a stellar conman? Or, like, a ninja? If he made it out of this interaction alive and well he’d have to give her a call. Maybe it would be a little awkward, but he’d done worse. 

It was still silent between the two of them. Okay, new goal. Akira only needed to last long enough that he could excuse himself to use the phone. The way this was going, he would probably be fine. Akechi mentioned he was busy, so he’d probably be on his way soon anyway. 

Akechi sighed and tucked his arms into himself, making no moves to give up his spot. Akira wondered if he could bring up work or something to get him to go. He felt bad forcing him out, but hurt feelings didn’t matter much when it was his life on the line. Though he looked kind of… delicate (was that the right word? He didn’t know. Less stable than usual, maybe. Not to say he usually gave off emotionally steady vibes) at the moment. Maybe he could make him lunch or something to make up for it. Assuming they’d get that far. 

Before Akira could try and really nicely kick him out, Akechi filled the silence again.

“I know this is presumptuous of me to say, but perhaps have you not picked up on my motive for making myself known to you?” 

How many times could Akira think ah, shit today? Yup, you guessed it Akechi, Akira had absolutely no idea why he had come to Leblanc. He couldn’t exactly just say that. Especially since Akechi seemed almost fragile (was that the right word? Eh.) right now. Like the question had some hidden meaning. He’d always been one for games, but this was a different side to Akechi. 

“What do you mean?” Akira asked, deciding that this was the most ambiguous answer he could give. He leaned forward onto his knees, and it made Akechi tense up. 

He looked away. “Don't get any ideas. I simply need to understand your… stance on the matter, first.” 

His tone was conflicted (was it? Fuck. Words, Akira, find the right ones). And he’d swear up and down his ears were pink. That was new. Not conflicting, though. 

“You wanna tell me yours first, detective?” Akira grinned. Maybe teasing was the way to go. Nothing unnatural about it; he had joked with him all the time before. He hoped his confidence would outshine his being utterly clueless.  

“I’d rather your opinion, actually,” said Akechi, the pink tinting his cheeks now. “Do not tell me I came all this way for nothing.” 

He was as difficult as ever. Not that Akira minded. He wondered how far he could push it. 

“You know, I was pretty drugged up. I might need a little hint, here.” 

Akechi turned and glared at him. “Whatever enjoyment you’re getting out of this isn’t going to last.” 

It had always proved pretty amusing to poke fun at him. Akira really had missed their bits of banter. He still remembered feeling so low whenever he thought about where they’d been headed. Akira was pleased to know he’d been a little right, and a little wrong. Right enough for the thrill, wrong enough for the aftermath. 

“I mean it. I have no idea where we left off,” he said, making his tone something baited. He knew he wouldn’t get away with it, but it was always worth a try. 

Akechi narrowed his eyes further. “You know I don’t trust you.” 

“I don’t trust you either,” Akira replied with a cool head. “Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” 

Akechi smirked. “I don’t owe you a damn thing.” 

Akira sat back up. Had anyone ever gotten anywhere without a little playful prying? “You’re not getting an answer out of me unless I get something to work with.” 

A short moment of silence hung. Akechi must’ve been considering (considering felt close. It was on the tip of his tongue) something. They were staring at each other. Before this, Akira had barely noticed how deeply red Akechi’s eyes were. He could tell something was going on behind them, processing (maybe?), evaluating (he was always doing that, though), thinking. 

“You are the worst kind of tease, you know,” he said. 

And then his lips were on Akira’s. 

Oh. 

(Okay.) 

 Goddamn. 

Akira was the type who prided himself on quick thinking. He could be up on his feet in no time, ready to pounce at a moment's notice. So now, while his mind froze at temperatures below sub zero, his body was more than happy to return the kiss, keeping only his last remaining pieces of competence shining loud and proud. 

Had he expected a kiss? No. Not at all. 

Was he upset about it? Also no. 

They broke apart for a moment, and Akira tried very hard not to let his shock show. When Akechi’s eyes lightly opened, they must’ve been pleased with whatever they saw, because a coy grin spread across his face. And what could’ve been some relief, too. 

“Satisfied, now?” he asked. 

Akira was left with two options (well, not really, but he pretended that was the case): One, was to tell Akechi there must’ve been a misunderstanding and that, boy, he sure was glad Akechi hadn’t murdered him, and just maybe they could work all this out over a cup of coffee. Go downstairs and talk through this, no guns or knives, just two boys and a cat and some curry, too. Hey Akechi, no hard feelings, but not this time around, buddy. 

Or, there was the ever present option two:  

“Not yet,” Akira hummed, and leaned back in for another. 

It was longer, and deeper this time. Akira pushed further, ignoring the adamant pain in his jaw from his bruise. Akechi squirmed underneath him in surprise. They started slow and easy. Akira turned and put one hand on Akechi’s waist. For a moment Akechi’s hands were nowhere, before settling on the back of Akira’s neck, tentative but secure. 

Akira decided that he’d forget about what his cognitive form may or may not have done for now. He was going to keep enjoying this. There was an inkling telling him this was probably his sought after answer, given Akechi’s welcoming reaction. How his cognitive self achieved this would be a mystery forever, but man, what a guy the version of himself in Sae-san’s head was. Atta boy. 

It did occur to Akira that the phone call he’d planned to give her might’ve turned out more

than uncomfortable. A smooch or two with Akechi was a much better method to figuring this out, among other things. He wondered if it would be inappropriate to thank her. Probably. 

He pushed again, but this time was met with some force. They were leaning into each other now, already breathing heavy and taking whatever pauses they could to gasp for breath. Akira slid his hand higher onto Akechi’s side, and with a tug he grabbed a fistful of his jacket to pull him in closer. Akechi’s fingers stayed pressed into the nape of Akira’s neck, but every so often would climb a bit higher towards his hair. 

Akira put one hand on Akechi’s chest and pulled them apart for a moment. Akechi looked confused, and a bit concerned when Akira took the second to massage his jaw with his other hand. But as he applied force onto Akechi, he got the picture and started to lay down, and even loosened his tie. Akira swung his leg over his body, straddling him and earning a quiet, “Oh,” before planting his forearms over Akechi’s head and closing the space between them. 

Akechi’s hands looped around Akira’s arms, and ended up taking their place back in his hair, getting wrapped and tangled in the curls. It was heavier now, and hotter, as they moved in sync and melted deeper into each other. 

Akira had no idea how much time passed. He stayed there in the moment, blissfully at a loss but unarguably having one of the best afternoons he could’ve asked for. 

But then, of course, rang a voice so shrill and so loud, he realized it was possible this hadn’t really been the time.

“HUH!?” 

Morgana sounded completely exasperated. He was standing on the top of the stairs, eyes wide and his mouth hung open. Entirely still. He must’ve gotten worried about Akira having been up here with Akechi for so long without so much as a word. 

The three of them stared at each other in silence. No one made a move. Morgana was obviously processing something he didn’t know how to understand. Akira felt a little nervous to look down and see whatever expression Akechi was making. If murder hadn’t been going through his head before, it surely was now. 

Morgana stumbled. “What’re you— you’re— Akira…?” 

Akira was going to once again try and flex his bullshitting mastery, but instead Akechi very loudly cleared his throat, and lightly shoved Akira back until he could sit upright. 

“I, ah, really should be getting back, anyway,” he said, fixing his tie while Akira finished awkwardly climbing off of him. “I wasn’t joking when I told you I was busy, after all.” 

His voice was stable and clear, but he was flushed pink and refusing to make any sort of eye contact. Akira decided not to comment, at least not while Morgana was still here. His poor cat seemed a little traumatized as it was; he didn’t need to witness any witty flirting. 

That wasn't the finisher, though. No end in sight for Akira’s day of twists and turns. A few moments later none other than Futaba bursted upstairs, out of breath and with a wild look in her eyes. It occurred to him that he shouldn’t have totally ignored her texts. 

“Is everyone still alive!” she shouted, arms wide in front of her. She glanced between the group, and relaxed her pose when she saw the very mundane-looking scene in front of her. Thank god Akira wasn’t on top of Akechi anymore. Morgana seeing was one thing, Futaba was another. He didn’t even want to think about what Sojiro would do if he found out Akira had made Futaba witness teenage hormones at their finest. 

She slumped down and looked at Morgana. “What the heck, Mona,” she sighed, looking a little embarrassed. “What’d you scream for? I got all worried.” 

Morgana tried to justify himself. “Because of them! They were…” he trailed off. He was acting so sheepish. It occurred to Akira he may not actually know the word to describe what he’d just witnessed. He almost snorted, but had enough tact to realize that wouldn’t be so proper at the moment. He could laugh about it later. 

“‘They were’ what?” Futaba asked, turning and leering at the pair. Akechi was flattening his hair a little, and Akira was trying to remain as stone faced as possible. She scowled.

Akira felt like he could see the gears turning in her head, which was a bad sign. More of an awkward sign, really, because Akira didn’t actually care much if they knew. He was gonna tell them a slightly modified version of the story after he’d finished, anyway. 

Akechi, on the other hand, seemed like he absolutely would mind if this all unfurled in front of him. He stood up just a little too quickly to be casual, and straightened his jacket. 

“I’d ought to go now, then. Thank you for having me,” he said, adjusting his gloves. He picked up his briefcase and made his way for the exit, fast paced and wide steps. Akira watched him with entertainment, and Futaba’s eyes followed him every step of the way. 

He stopped in front of the staircase, and waited there for a moment. Akira wondered what he was gonna do. His mind worked in very particular ways, and Akira was surely interested in such a flustered (hm. Maybe that was it) version. 

He turned back and faced him head on. “I’ll come again. I’d argue that didn’t quite serve as a suitable answer.” 

Futaba’s eyes darted between them. “What do you mean ‘answer,’” she said, furrowing her eyebrows a little more as she tried harder to connect the dots. 

Akira nodded in reply, and Akechi smiled something sweet, but just about devious, too. He walked out of view without another word, and the room was silent until the chime of the door opening and closing signaled his exit. 

Futaba did not waste a second. She zipped over to Akira, followed closely behind by Morgana, who leapt onto the bed. 

Futaba squatted down. “Okay, Akira. First of all, what. And then second of all, hey, what.”

Akira wasn’t exactly sure what to reply. Hot damn, while appropriate, would probably not exactly satisfy Futaba. More than anything he’d probably gross her out. And spark a million more questions. 

She must’ve been confused for a number of reasons, very much like Morgana, and like himself too. Ultimately, yeah, he had no idea why he’d just had a passionate make out session with Goro fucking Akechi, of all people. He admitted that it did go swimmingly, though. And he obviously wouldn’t say no to a round two. Or three. Honestly, why limit himself by putting a number on it. 

This was an unexpected turn of events, for sure, but definitely an advantageous one. Genuinely and acutely having Akechi on their side was not a problem at all. And occasionally steaming it up on his bed was, more than anything, an improvement to their previous relationship. Akira couldn't say he minded one bit. 

It was dangerous, too. He needed to give Sae-san a call still, no matter how weird it might turn out. And he had to let everyone else know that, for whatever reason, Akechi was willing to work with them, to at least some sort of extent. That Akechi was pretty mellow right now, and did not think for a second he’d gone through with the murder. 

Akira had to be doubtful of him. He didn’t have a choice in that. But he decided it was more than worth seeing where this would take him. Not to mention way more fun. 

Futaba sat staring at him with beady eyes from the floor. Morgana looked no less shaken than before, but was waiting impatiently for Akira’s answer, too. 

There was really no use lying. 

“Well,” Akira started, shrugging his shoulders and feeling just a bit greedy. “I think I have a boyfriend now.” 

[set-phasers-to-whump]

gunpoint

prompt: gunpoint (alt no.9)

whumpee: malcolm bright

fandom: prodigal son

hey hi hello! back with some malcolm whump :) hope you enjoy! i wrote this as pre-brightwell but you can read them however you like :) 

Malcolm stands outside the suspect’s apartment building, debating over whether or not he should text someone to let them know where he is. On one hand, if he gets into trouble, they’ll know where to find him, but on the other hand, if he tells them what he’s doing they might come and stop him from doing it. 

It’s quite the dilemma, one which is solved by a text arriving from Dani: what are u doing tonight?

You can’t tell anyone

Do I really want to know?

I’m at Paulsen’s apartment building

His phone rings, and he answers it quickly to avoid the noise attracting attention. 

“You’re at the suspect’s apartment?”

“I’m not inside yet.” He steps into the building behind a man that’s just come in, and asks him to hold the elevator as he hurries across the lobby. “Now I am,” he tells Dani, pressing the button for the fifteenth floor. 

“You’re in - Malcolm,” Dani says. “You’re inside?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Don’t do anything too stupid. I’m coming. Give me ten minutes.”

“You really don’t have to -”

She hangs up before he can finish his sentence. The elevator reaches the fifteenth floor, doors sweeping open with a ding.

Malcolm steps out, taking a look around. This is the floor below where their suspect lives, but he’d gotten a weird feeling when they’d first come here to check the place out - apart from being the home of the suspect, the building had also been home to two of the three people who had been killed in the past five days. When they’d come asking about the murders, their suspect had been casual, unbothered, and entirely too welcoming given that two of his neighbors had just been brutally murdered. 

They’d done more digging on the man, and Malcolm had completed a profile, and all evidence pointed to him having done it. But it wasn’t enough, Malcolm knew - he could tell that there was something they weren’t seeing, something missing, and he was willing to bet it was in this apartment building. 

Hence why he’s here now, walking up and down the halls of the fifteenth floor, looking for something that he has no idea how to find. 

Maybe something like a utility closet? he wonders, approaching a wooden door with a sign proclaiming it off-limits to tenants. It’s older than the rest of the doors on the floor, and it creaks ominously when Malcolm opens it. 

There’s nothing there. A bucket. A circuit board. A water heater. A vent in the ceiling. 

This seems like a room that should be kept locked, he thinks, turning on his phone’s flashlight and peering behind the water heater. A simple sign isn’t enough to keep everyone out, and he doubts building management wants people to have access to the floor’s electricity. 

He heads back to the door to examine its doorknob, which does have a keyhole, as well as a chain lock on the inside. The keyhole is fairly scraped up with regular use, but the chain lock looks new. Malcolm wonders who might have a key, and who might have the motivation to install a secondary, interior, lock.

He pulls the door shut and turns back to the room, thoughts shifting away from who has access to this place? to who wants access to this place? He can’t imagine a utility person would need a chain lock, and thinks there must be a reason for it to have been installed.

Malcolm looks around, and his eyes land on the ceiling vent. It’s an average size, too small to fit a person through, but the right size for fitting smaller things through - murder weapons, for example. Among thousands of other things. But it’s an idea, anyway, so Malcolm grabs a small stepladder and places it beneath the vent, shining his flashlight up at it to get a better look. 

It seems to open into the floor of a room above him, but from what Malcolm can see through the metal, it’s not another closet. In fact, he thinks, it might be an apartment. He does some mental gymnastics and works out that it’s perfectly possible for the apartment above him to belong to their suspect. 

He turns on his phone to call Dani back and tell her his thoughts. 

“I’m almost in the parking lot,” she says, before he has a chance to say anything. “Where are you right now?”

“I’m in a utility closet on the fifteenth floor,” Malcolm replies, “and I think I might have found something.”

“What kind of something?”

“Uhh...it might be nothing. But there’s this vent in here, and I think it might open into Paulsen’s apartment.”

“...And?”

“That’s all I’ve got,” Malcolm admits. “Maybe you can come have a look for yourself, see what you think.”

“I’ll be there in a couple minutes.”

Malcolm figures it’s best to stay where he is and wait for Dani to come. While he waits, he busies himself with again looking up through the vent, standing on his tiptoes on the ladder to get a better view. 

The door to the closet opens with a loud, startling squeak, and Malcolm nearly falls off the ladder. “Dani,” he says, stepping down and turning around. “You scared me.”

His eyes fall on the person in the doorway - who is definitely not Dani.

“You’re...not Dani.”

Their suspect, Paulsen, smiles. “No, I am not,” he agrees, stepping into the room and pulling the door shut behind him. He slides the chain lock closed and switches off the lights. 

“Give me your phone,” he instructs Malcolm, holding out a hand in the light of the phone’s flashlight. 

“Why?”

Paulsen draws a gun from his jacket, turns off the safety, and aims it at Malcolm’s chest. “Because if you don’t, I’ll shoot you.”

Malcolm complies, handing over the phone. Paulsen turns off its flashlight, then throws it to the ground, smashing it under his foot. 

“Guess I have to get a new phone now,” Malcolm complains, not terribly anxious about the whole having-a-gun-pointed-at-him thing. “I might have to see about buying a stronger one, though.”

“Shut up,” Paulsen fairly growls, stepping closer to Malcolm, until Malcolm can physically feel him standing there. He imagines the gun, aimed straight at him in the dark. 

“What’s the plan here?” Malcolm whispers. “Are you really going to kill me?”

The cold metal barrel of the gun presses against his forehead. “Shut. Up.”

He shuts up. He doesn’t want to get shot. Especially not in the head. 

“Now listen to me,” Paulsen says, and he’s close enough that Malcolm can feel his breath on his face. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Are you here alone?”

Malcolm nods, forehead scraping against the gun. 

“Good. You’re going to leave this closet. I’ll be right behind you, so don’t think about trying anything dumb, okay?”

Malcolm nods again, swallowing hard. He can’t decide whether he wishes Dani would show up now or not.

“We’re going to walk out of here, nice and easy, down the hall, to the elevator, through the lobby. Got that?”

He nods a third time, hand starting to shake. He balls it into a fist.

“Then we are going to get into my car. I’ll drive, but this gun isn’t going to go away. You even think about running, and I’ll shoot you. Is all that clear?”

Another nod. He really doesn’t want to get into a car with this guy, but he very much believes what he’s saying. Plus, it might be a good way to understand him a little more, add information to his profile for his inevitable arrest. Which will come, Malcolm knows. Hopefully it comes before he gets shot.

They step out into the hallway, Malcolm first, the gun pressed into his back, digging into the skin with every step he takes. He feels his breath start to catch in his throat, feels his hands start to shake more, and tries desperately to stop the feeling of fear coursing through him. He’ll be fine. He’ll get out of this. 

They round a corner, the elevators in sight. Just then, one of them opens, and Paulsen drags Malcolm back around the corner, pressing the gun to the back of his head. Malcolm gets the message well enough and keeps his mouth shut. 

Footsteps draw near, and Paulsen curses under his breath. Malcolm’s heart is pounding now, and he has this terrible feeling that something really bad is about to happen. 

Paulsen pulls him backwards as the steps get closer, backing them down the hall, putting the gun again to Malcolm’s back, and kind of leaning against him, casually, as if to disguise the presence of the gun. 

The person rounds the corner, and even in the dim light, Malcolm can tell it’s Dani. She’s looking at her phone, muttering to herself, but she looks up about when she’s about halfway to Malcolm, and he sees her eyes widen in surprise. 

“Bright?”

The gun presses harder still into his back. “Hey, Dani, what’s up?” he calls out, aiming for casual but failing spectacularly. 

“What’s going on?”

“Who is that?” Paulsen hisses into Malcolm’s ear. 

“Colleague,” Malcolm replies, eyes trained on Dani, who is watching their conversation with a look of understanding on her face. 

“Make her leave,” Paulsen instructs, and Malcolm imagines his finger tightening on the trigger. 

“Do you think you could maybe turn around?” he asks, trying to ignore the slight shaking of his own voice. “Just leave. Get back to the elevator, down to the lobby…”

Dani shakes her head minutely. “That’s not gonna happen,” she says, her words not directed at Malcolm. “Let him go.”

“No,” Paulsen replies, and his voice is strong, unafraid. Malcolm doesn’t like that. It’s in line with his profile of the man, which he is at this moment really wishing he’d been wrong about. The guy is ruthless, but collected, meticulous...Malcolm has a feeling that he might very well be dying tonight. 

He doesn’t want to die tonight. He really doesn’t. He has to do something. 

He pushes himself forwards, feeling the metal of the gun leave his back, and runs, shouting at Dani to run, too. He sees her draw her gun, hears a shot, and another, feels something hit his shoulder, sending him spinning off balance. He hits the ground with the terrible realization that he doesn’t know whose gun had gone off. Who might be hurt.

He lies there in horrible uncertainty for a couple terrible seconds, his head spinning. His shoulder feels like he’s been punched, but he knows he’s been shot. And maybe Dani has been shot, too…

He stumbles to his feet, overcome for a moment with dizziness. When his vision clears, he sees Dani on the floor, kneeling over Paulsen, cuffing him. He’s bleeding from his leg, where, evidently, Dani had shot him. 

Malcolm watches silently as Dani wrestles the man to his feet and drags him along, phone to her ear, no doubt talking to Gil. She walks up to Malcolm, who instinctively backs away at the close presence of Paulsen. 

“You okay?” she asks, and Malcolm can only nod. He’s not, though. He’s been shot, and he’s pretty sure it’s not serious, but he’s been shot, and for a long time he’d thought that he was going to be shot, and there had been the cold, unforgiving metal of the gun pressed to his skin to remind him of that fact, and he imagines the feeling is going to stick with him for quite some time, and his hands are shaking again and he can smell the metallic scent of his own blood, and he is overall definitely not okay. But he follows Dani and Paulsen into the elevator anyway, pressing a trembling hand to the wound on his shoulder, which, he can feel, is fortunately only a graze.

“Buses should be here any minute,” Dani says, as the group of three leave the building. “You gonna be okay til then?”

Malcolm nods again, sitting down heavily on the building’s concrete stoop. He watches Dani drag Paulsen along to stand on the curb, glad he’s farther away now. She looks down the street anxiously, and he sees her relax when the red and blue lights of police cars approach. 

Malcolm feels himself relax at their presence, too, sinking his body further into the cold concrete. It’s going to be fine, he reminds himself, watching Dani hand over Paulsen to another officer. He knows it’s going to be fine. 

His body doesn’t seem to care about what his brain knows, though. He’s still shaking, not just his hands, now, but the rest of him, too. He’s breathing too heavily, and he can’t stop feeling a gun pressing into his back, is hyperaware of the blood slowly dripping down his shoulder despite his hand trying to hold it back. 

Dani sinks down on the step next to him and touches a hand to his arm. He startles, jerking away from her and hating himself for it. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” she says reassuringly. “Paulsen’s in custody and the ambulances are less than a minute out.”

He can’t bring himself to nod this time. He feels a shaky breath catch in his throat, and before he can stop himself there are tears pooling in his eyes. 

He sniffs and tries to make them go away, but it’s no use. His vision blurs up, swirling together the colors of the flashing lights around him. 

“Can I touch you?” Dani asks, and he finds he would actually really like that now, so he does nod this time, and then her arm is around him, very gentle and mindful of the gunshot wound on his left shoulder. Her hand touches his back, right where the gun had been, but feeling nothing at all like the gun had. 

“You’re shaking,” she points out, and carefully tugs him closer. “You cold?”

He shrugs with his right shoulder. “Not really. Just some lingering terror, I guess. Stupid.”

“Hey,” Dani says, her voice serious. “It’s not stupid to be scared. He had you at gunpoint, Malcolm. He shot you.”

“Ambulance’s here,” an officer Malcolm isn’t familiar with interrupts their conversation. “So’s Lieutenant Arroyo.”

With that information, Dani stands up, grabbing Malcolm’s right bicep and gently hauling him to his feet so he doesn’t have to let go of his shoulder. He lets her guide him to the ambulance, tears still clouding his vision. He sinks down onto a stretcher and sees Dani mouth meet you at the hospital. He nods in acknowledgement as two paramedics hover over him, asking him questions he has no idea how to answer. 

“Just get moving,” he hears a wonderfully familiar voice say. “I’ll give you as much information as I’ve got, but let’s not waste time here.”

“Yes, sir,” says one of the paramedics, and with that, the ambulance doors shut and the engine starts. 

“Gil,” Malcolm says, locking eyes with him from across the ambulance. 

“Hey, kid,” Gil says, with a tight smile. “How you doing?”

“Not so good,” Malcolm replies, honestly. “Hurts.” In all honesty, it doesn't hurt that much, but saying it hurts is easier than explaining that he’s still scared, despite the fact that the threat has been completely removed, despite the fact that he knows he’s safe. 

“I know,” Gil says, reaching out a hand and grabbing Malcolm’s bloody one. “But it’s going to be okay.”

“I know.”

“Everything is going to be okay, you understand?”

“I know.”

“Good. But don’t you think you’re off the hook for this either. We will be having a talk as soon as we get you fixed up.”

“Okay.”

They arrive at the hospital a moment later, and Malcolm’s hand frantically reaches for Gil’s when he’s pulled away. 

“I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he hears Gil promise, as Malcolm is pushed through a set of doors. “We’ll be right here.”

They’ll be there for him...Gil, Dani, probably Ainsley, and his mother, maybe JT, Edrisa...the thought is enough to make Malcolm almost smile. Maybe he really is going to be okay.

thanks so much for reading this!!! i have done a lot of other writing today so this might not be like. the best. but i did have a fun time writing it! hope you liked it!

[itsa-lie]

Birth Of A Liar Part Three

||Part One||Part Two||Part Three||Part Four||Part Five||

Oh boy, I have some angst in store for you today let me tell you. This poor boy has been through a lot.

Trigger warning for murder, taking care of babies, bl**d, and cl*wns

DICE...everyone liked the sound of that. Hanako gloated that it was like she was in one of those secret spy organizations like in the movies and, well Kokichi couldn’t agree more. He did sneak into a cinema once or twice so he knew a thing or two about evil organizations. Not that he thought he was evil, hell no, couldn’t be farther from the truth. But from Maki and Goro’s comments about stealing being evil it was kind of hard not to have that mindset.

So he went with it. Even practiced making evil faces in the mirror a few times. Practice makes perfect after all.

And would you know it the young boy actually loved having company. Sure Goro was quiet and always apologizing for the dumbest things, Maki scared the shit out of him, and Hanako cried for almost everything, but it was fine. Besides, Hanako taught him a really great trick to guilt-trip adults. All he had to do was cry. That easy. Just cause a scene and everyone would go to your aid. Plus with extra people they were able to get more things like televisions and game consoles. It wasn’t stealing, it was giving to orphans and that wasn’t evil...right?

However it really wasn’t an organization with only four people...in the movies they had more members. So once as Kokichi was sitting in front of the store he usually steals or guilt-trips people to buy from he sees something odd going on in the street. A woman carrying a bundle in her arms while another man chases her from behind. He seemed to have a gun in his hands, the woman was running for her life! A headache filled the boy’s head as a memory crossed his mind. He was smaller. A woman with black hair holding him. A man with purple hair knocking a gun out of the hand of a man pointing it right for him. Cringing at the slight pain Kokichi held his head. He didn’t know why he did this but he got up and chased the man. 

His feet were not as fast as the man however and out of no where there’s a loud bang. Then a baby crying. Kokichi quickly hid behind a brick wall. It was a good thing he did too, since the gunned ban came out of the alleyway with a handful of cash leaving a crying baby at his wake. Should he dare look back there? He definitely wouldn’t like what he was going to see. Still he turned around slowly into the dark alleyway. The woman was face down in a puddle of blood while the baby cries brokenhearted and afraid beside her. Cautiously Kokichi approached the woman and checked for signs of life. There was none. Also for a second he could see the woman being that black haired woman carrying him in his memories which made him gasp and fall back.

“N-No...t-that’s not mama...” He consoled himself. She’s probably okay and will come back for him, after all the body was gone the next day, who’s to say an ambulance didn’t pick her and his father up and bring them to safety? Now they’re just looking for him! But this baby...what if something happens to it? It was much too young to take care of itself like he was. Ooooh but what would Maki and the rest say? He has to decide quickly, the sounds of sirens were coming closer and closer.

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

“YOU BROUGHT HOME A BABY?!” Maki’s loud tone of voice made Kokichi jump and the baby cry even louder. “Yeah! It’s our new pet! Surprise!” Maybe if he pretends it’s a gift they won’t get so mad. He was wrong. Goro smiles politely, even if it was easy to see the baby just made more worry on him. Maki was very angry, angry enough to beat Kokichi to a bloody pulp and she probably would have if he wasn’t cradling a baby in his arms. Hanako was very excited though, jumping up and down to try to see the baby.

“Babies aren’t pets, dipshit.” Maki growled holding her temples. She does her best not to curse in front of little ones but by God was she in a bad mood. Even Goro could see the steam rising out of her. Maybe he should try to heal the situation a little bit.

“Now now, Maki. You did the same thing when Hanako was in danger.” Goro tries to put a hand on his sister’s shoulder before she pulls away. “That was different! You can’t just STEAL a baby! What if the parents find out? What if they find out about us?”

Kokichi was silent, he shows the blanket with a bloodstain on it.

 “They won’t...it’s mom is dead.”

“D-Don’t call them an ‘it’! And what about their dad?!”

“I-I dunno! W-Why are you yelling at me? You’re scaring the baby!”

Maki quickly took the baby from Kokichi’s arms and examined them. Their cries getting louder and louder, the baby thrashed and moved. Finally Maki looks at the others, her eyes closed. “They need a diaper change.”

“W-What?!”

“N-No  way am I doing that again! I already used to change yours, I’m not doing THAT again.”

“Ewww hehehe!”

“You don’t have to. You just need to get me some diapers and diaper cream. You steal from the store all the time, right?” Maki states, bouncing the baby on her shoulder. That oddly seemed to calm it down a little. How was she this gifted with kids? “Fine, but don’t let it barf or poop or whatever on our stuff. Hana, stay with Maki and help her with the baby. Goro, come with me.” True to his leader form Kokichi gives orders imminently and the rest follow. Perhaps what Maki said was right. Being a leader does run in his “jeans”. As ordered Kokichi managed to snag a bag of diapers and diaper cream as Goro distracted the workers as usual. Man Kokichi hopes he doesn’t grow much taller because stealing is way easy because of his height. At long last they arrive at the abandoned building they lived in.

“We got the-”

“Give me that.” Maki practically took the supplies out of his arms. She must be really desperate to stop the infants crying. Even Hanako was covering her ears. Swiftly Maki places the baby on a table and begins working. Curiously Kokichi looked over Maki’s shoulder to see what she was doing and then quickly regrets it, his face turning green and close to dry heaving. That was a horrible idea. Yet Maki seemed...unbothered by it? It was almost mesmerizing at how fast she changed them. Once she was done the crying...stopped?

“Did you fix it?” Kokichi asked, now feeling better from the peace and quiet without the baby yowling.

“Did you fix him. He’s a boy.” Maki corrects him as she cradles the child. “And yes. He’s fine now. Also his name is Kenji...” The baby quickly falls asleep in her arms finally making the place quiet.

“How do you know?” asked Goro tilting his head to the side. Maki simply shows Kenji’s tiny chubby arm to reveal a hospital bracelet on it.

-Kenji Date, DOB: 7/6/20XX, Paitent ID: 11037

So the baby was probably born recently given how close the dates were, maybe about one month old. Still Maki was looking angry with Kokichi, but didn’t do anything. “C’moooon you can’t stay mad at me forever can you? Look at this faaaace. It would be sad without my ultimate assassin friend.”

“Call me that again and you’ll be the next victim...” she warns, her eyes narrowing again. “But aren’t assassins and murderers different things?” Kokichi asks, honestly confused. “They’re the same thing, dumbass...” Well shit he didn’t know. Another awkward silence. 

“I guess everything worked out in the end though. And hey! We can add more members with other orphans! Think of this, a whole network of orphans working together to protect each other!”

Maki shook her head. “That sounds like a cartoon...”

“But you’d watch it, wouldn’t you?”

“Fine, I guess so...but no babies okay? They’re really hard to take care of as it is.”

And with that promise, DICE gained more and more members. In about a few years the whole place would be practically crawling with orphans or kids who wanted to be away from abusive homes. In fact so many orphans had lived there that they even had to move some to upstairs rooms. And with more members came cool new stuff! More toys, books, games, anything they could steal they would. It was like running their own little orphanage. However they did have to have some other leaders in power too making sure the other’s stayed in line. Kokichi picked nine others to “co-star” as he put it in his operation. Of course Maki was one, so was Goro, but because he was immature only the tall kids get to be the co-leaders.

“But you’re shorter than all of them! How are you leader?” Hanako asked one day as everyone was making masks to wear for Halloween to play their usual pranks and to hide their identity. “Because I came up with this idea so, as it’s so plainly obvious to see, I should be leader!” Kokichi grins booping the girl on the nose. “Hmph! Well I thought only tall people could be leader so...”

“Nhyhehehe, oh Hana. Tell you what, if anything ever happens to me, you become leader okay?” He tips his leader hat and flaunts his cape as if he was trying to be dramatic. Though how dramatic can you be with an old baseball cap and a tattered old bed sheet flowing behind you? Hanako looked hopeful as her eyes sparkled. “I can have the hat and cape too?” Kokichi dramatically held the bed sheet in front of himself like a vampire would. “Any perks of being DICE leader you can have. But I won’t be leaving any time soon you know~”

As the children drew their masks, Kokichi starts the meeting.

“Hello my fellow crime syndicates! As you know, today is Halloween. We’ve been waiting for this day all year my friends. And finally it came!” The whole building filled with applause which made him laugh. Maki just shook her head. If he keep it up they’ll be found out but he kept everyone so...so together. “Now I know what you’re thinking...’why would we be making clown masks for?’ Well I’ll tell you! Bring in the boxes!”

Hoards of boxes came rushing in being displayed in front of all the children eliciting “oohs” and “ahhs” This was probably their biggest heist yet! Never have the kids seen so much stuff come in before, not even food. What sort of wonders awaited inside those containers? “Now, open!” The bigger kids opened the box to reveal the most amazing thing! Costumes and prank supplies covered the ground. This was the year! This was the year they have an actual, real Halloween! All the kids went forward to grab some stuff but the co-leaders organized them into a single file line to make sure everyone got a costume and supplies.

“Sorry, all the costumes are clown costumes but, hey that’s why I made you all make the masks!” Kokichi exclaimed. Everyone didn’t mind. This was a fun activity and now they had something they can do that normal kids with parents usually do! However Maki was the only one to speak up. “You got crates of costumes? How do you expect not to get caught?! You know they have security cameras, right?” Kokichi shrugged his shoulders and places his hands behind his head. “So? Look at their faces! Even Kenji and Hanako are smiling! Worrying about that stuff will just ruin the moment so just reeeelax a bit Maki.” It was true. The kids looked more happy than ever. But something inside her seemed like this was going to be a bad idea...

Once everyone was dressed they all hit the streets. Each child knew about their one rule: no killing. Their leader was against murder in any way possible teaching the children how horrible death was and how they should avoid it. All of the kids got a costume, as well as eight of the Co-Leaders, but Maki and Kokichi were left without one. “I don’t mind. As long as the kids have one I will just go as Kokichi Ouma for Halloween.”

Boy was this the most fun these children have ever had, With their clown suits and masks on their faces they made mischief in the city. Toilet paper rolls on houses, chalk graffiti on walls, water buckets on doors, the whole place was crawling with little clown gremlins causing mayhem in their wake. It was enough to make Kokichi proud. “Oh this is enough to bring a tear to my eye~!” The leader claims dramatically. Maki just rolled her eyes and said nothing, however she was happy to see the children having the time of their lives. However she stops as she was walking, looking like a deer in headlights at the televisions in a shop window. Kokichi waves his hand in front of her as to get a reaction. All she could do was point.

A newscaster on the screen started talking, a picture of a clown at his side, underneath the headline states: “Clown thieves hit the streets”. Kokichi could feel the lump forming in his throat.

“Good evening.” The newscaster began as he bangs his stack of papers on the table once to align them. “A group of pranksters? Or a group of kidnappers? A hoard of clown suit wearing children hit the streets today causing panic and anger across the city. We have no idea where they come from or what they want, but they continue to wreak everything in their path. We go live to our reporter, Michiko Nakajima.” The screen changes to a woman in a dress with a microphone in her hands. Kokichi could have sworn that the woman was behind him somewhere.

“Thank you, Natsumi-San. I am standing here on the very street where young Kenji Date was taken from his mother’s arms seven years ago. His mother shot dead in an abandoned alley. They couldn’t find the killer or the child’s body, however one clown who has been taken into custody had Kenji’s hospital bracelet in his pocket!” The screen shows a picture of Kenji, his mask off, looking sad and disappointed. The two leaders could feel their souls about to fly from their body.

“I like where I am! You’re not gonna take me to some stinky orphanage!” Kenji exclaimed on the screen as two men take him away. “Luckily the father was still alive to bring little Kenji back home to his rightful place.” The reporter finishes as it then cuts to a man who has red puffy eyes. It seems he had been crying. This makes Kokichi feel immense guilt rise up in the pit of his stomach. “I’m just happy I can finally see my son...these clown people took seven years of me getting to know him.” The man looks like he could break down at any second. “He won’t even call me ‘dad’, he just says ‘where’s Kokichi and Maki’ or ‘Kokichi will save me’!”

The name “Kenji” meant “an intelligent child” but also meant “ public prosecutor”. It all made sense in a way. Just like his own name, “Kokichi”, meant “little luck”. Right now he was having no luck. Maki was beginning to sweat too. From the corner of her eye she could see the news reporter and camera crew come closer. “This makes it even more curious. Years ago another child had been lost after his parents death. Kokichi Ouma, then three years old, was deemed lost as both his parents were killed by his father’s own gang. Another, Maki Haruwaka, the youngest of many children, killed her father in cold blood before leaving with her older brother Goro Haruwaka. Both these children have yet to be found, but law enforcement is still on the look out.”

Without warning Maki began to run. She knew this was a horrible idea! No one would even know their secret if Kokichi just did an inside Halloween party instead like they usually do. 

“M-Maki wait-”

But it was too late, she already ran too far. He tries to catch her, but was stopped by a big brawny man who held him by the shoulders. Kokichi kicked and thrashed, but the man had no trouble taking him to where he wanted him to go.

“Maki!!!”

The newscaster looks back at the camera, obviously excited by this rise in the story she was reporting.

“We have word that we might have just found the lost children Kokichi Ouma and Maki Haruwaka! Could this be a clue to find more missing children? We will give updates as soon as they’re avalible. Michiko Nakajima, Tokyo news.”

[we-are-only-halfway-home93]

Come and Lay the Roses 24- Widow’s Walk- [Ivar x OC]

Summary: Tragedy strikes the Lothbrok family.  

Characters: Ivar x OC, Bjorn x Torvi, Ubbe x Margrethe, Hvitserk x Thora, Sigurd x OC, Ragnar, Lagertha

Warnings: arranged marriage, violence, torture, sex, language, mentions of rape/sexual assault

Word Count: 3211

Ch. 23

“Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, blood and revenge are hammering in my head.”

~William Shakespeare

Ivar gazed down at his wife. Her hair was splayed out across his pillow, draped over his arm. He combed through the strands with gentle fingers, basking in its softness. 

He had come to the realization that he cared for her ages ago. He knew he loved her. He’d admitted as much to his brothers. He didn’t understand the extent of his love until this moment. 

Ivar was a man who would do many things for the people he loved. He would lie, cheat, steal, and kill for his family. 

He’d abducted men from their homes and tortured them for his father. He’d stalked and beaten a man for his wife. He murdered men in the name of his brothers. He’d blackmailed men and women alike for Lagertha. None of this was below Ivar. He’d done them all and he would do them again. One thing that Ivar could safely say he would not do for his family was die for them.

He was a selfish man and considered himself above all others. He never did anything that could potentially bring harm to himself. He often acted first and thought later but never at the expense of his own life. Self-preservation was his greatest instinct and yet…

He knew this woman sleeping beside him would be his undoing.

Waking up beside her was the most exquisite moment of his life. 

She was an angel laid out in his bed. The feeling of her body pressed against his was like nothing he’d ever felt before. She was sunlight shining down on the darkness that was his heart. She illuminated cracks that had never seen the light of day. She warmed the spaces of his chest that had been frozen since his mother died. 

His whole life he believed he would never feel something like this. He was too different. His physical limitations held him back from seeking female affections. He didn’t want to be laughed at and ridiculed. It was easier to just not try. 

He’d grown up thinking that something was wrong with him. That no one would be able to accept him so he built walls. He shut himself away to keep from getting hurt. It was easier than letting someone in. He had more control that way.

He didn’t even let Freydis in as much as she liked to think he did. She never burrowed her way in as Aaline had.

He realized then that he would die for her. She was above all others. Her life mattered more to him than his own. 

He couldn’t help the grin that threatened to overtake his face. 

He buried his nose in Aaline’s hair and closed his eyes, ignoring the sudden trill of his cell phone.

He glanced back at the clock on the nightstand and groaned. It was almost eight in the morning. They were officially late for work. 

Ivar shrugged it off. They practically ran their jurisdictions of the company. Someone else could handle business today. Ivar was more keen on handling his wife.

He rolled over, pinning her beneath his massive frame. She groaned and stretched against him, brushing up against sensitive parts of his anatomy. He moaned and nuzzled her ear.

He popped an eye open when his phone went off again. 

It was probably Björn demanding to know where he was for whatever meeting he was late for. Ivar knew his brother would understand. Björn and Torvi were still pretty hot and heavy after twenty plus years of marriage. 

He felt Aaline sigh beneath him and he stroked a hand down her side. “Good morning, elskede. Did you sleep well?” He breathed against the shell of her ear. Aaline shivered as his breath ghosted across her neck. 

She pushed up against him and Ivar lifted, allowing her to roll onto her back. She blinked up at him through sleepy eyes and brought her hands up to frame his face. 

“I’ve never slept better.” She answered.

Ivar smiled and leaned down to kiss her. His phone went off again. Aaline groaned and drew back, her eyebrows raised.

“Are you going to answer that?” She asked. Ivar shook his head and leaned down, kissing her again. Aaline giggled as his phone rolled into a fourth round of vibrations. She pulled away.

“Ivar, maybe it’s important.” He grunted and shook his head, trailing kisses down the slope of her neck. Aaline smiled and leaned into the kisses but drew her eyebrows together when her own phone started going off. Before she could move to answer it, Ivar rolled her over to the other side of the bed, out of reach. 

She shrieked and he continued his journey down her neck, licking into her clavicle. “Ivar, what if it’s an emergency?” He shook his head against her, sending shivers down her spine at the rasp of his stubble against tender flesh.

As Ivar reached down to begin toying with her pussy, the door was thrown open.

Ivar jumped back and off the bed, his hips angrily protesting the quick movement. He had his pistol out and pointed at the door before Aaline could scream.

Aaline herself pressed the blankets to her chest and stared at the door. More so at who had burst inside.

Hvitserk had broken the lock, the splintered wood laying scattered at his feet. The door was almost split in two, hanging by only one of its hinges.

“What the fuck, Hvitserk? Get out!” Ivar was unconcerned with his nudity as his brother stood panting in the center of the room. He tossed his gun on the nightstand, the loud clatter the only sound in the room. Aaline glanced briefly at Ivar before turning her eyes back to Hvitserk.

“Why don’t you answer your phone?” Hvitserk demanded. He was just as unbothered by Ivar’s nudity, staring hard at his younger brother. 

Aaline could see tension in the lines of his face and shoulders. His mouth was a tight line cutting across his face. His hands were clenched at his sides and his body shaking.

She turned worried eyes to Ivar. Something was wrong.

“I’m busy, obviously.” Ivar gestured towards the bed where Aaline still sat, huddled under the blankets and pressed back against the headboard. 

“I’ve called you. Four times.” Hvitserk spluttered. He was breathing heavily and sweating like he’d just run a great distance. 

Ivar scrunched up his nose and scowled. “I know. I ignored it.”

Aaline cleared her throat and called his name. “Ivar…”

He ignored her and continued to stare at his brother. 

“Are you going to pay for a new door?” He pointed an accusing finger at the wood littering his doorway. 

Hvitserk ignored him and gestured towards Aaline, his eyes never leaving Ivar. “Thora’s even called Aaline.”

“Look, it’s broken in half.”  

“Nobody can reach you.”

“Why didn’t you just knock? I would’ve ignored you but maybe then I would have answered your calls. You didn’t have to kick down the door. It’s very rude, Hvitserk.”

Aaline watched the banter like a tennis match, her eyes trailing from one to the next, anticipation building. 

Something had happened. Something bad. Hvitserk was visibly upset. He looked like he’d been crying. He said he’d called Ivar four times and Thora had called Aaline. Ivar was oblivious, arguing about his door and his brother’s lack of decorum instead of seeing the bigger picture.

She hissed at him, “Ivar.”

“Ivar, enough!”

She and Hvitserk spoke at once, drowning Ivar out. She leaned back, watching Hvitserk. He’d clenched his eyes shut and his jaw was stiff with tension. He was clenching and unclenching his shaking hands, his knuckles white. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose like he was in pain.

Aaline’s heart began to pound. Her mouth was suddenly dry and she could hear her blood rushing in her ears. 

Something terrible had happened. 

Ivar snapped his mouth shut and, for the first time, seemed to take in his brother’s appearance. 

His eyes narrowed and he looked Hvitserk up and down. 

“What’s so important that you needed to break my door down?”

Hvitserk sighed and only then did he glance at Aaline and notice her state of undress. “I’ll step out so you can get dressed.” He made to turn but Ivar called his name, stopping him. 

“What’s happened, Hvitserk?” His voice was low, just barely this side of threatening. Hvitserk closed his eyes and Aaline could see his throat bob as he swallowed. 

“Ivar, put some clothes on.” Hvitserk sounded tired.

Ivar shook his head, ripping a pair of sleep shorts out from under the pillows and yanking them up his legs. He raised his arms in a shrug and slapped back down to his sides. “I’m dressed now tell me. What is going on?”

Hvitserk looked at Ivar for a long time. It was as if he was trying to collect his thoughts or come up with the best way to phrase the next few words that would leave his mouth. 

Ivar was just beginning to lose patience when Hvitserk spoke.

“There was an ambush. A small group of men were on their way into the office when an SUV drove by and shot at them. The car was peppered with bullets. Dozens of shots fired. 

“Two men died at the scene and one was rushed to the hospital. I do not know the extent of the damage but… he was… he was pronounced, uh… DOA.”

Hvitserk stopped and looked down. Aaline had seen his eyes go glassy before he looked away. She knew. Before he even said it she knew that it was one of the brothers.  

Ivar seemed to know, too.

“Who?” He practically growled.

Hvitserk looked up and sniffed, his eyes still wet but no tears had fallen. 

Ivar growled again, his hands clenched at his sides and his chest heaving. “Who, Hvitserk?”

Hvitserk cleared his throat and swallowed again. It looked like the action caused him a great deal of pain. His voice was low like he was trying to keep his voice from cracking. It didn’t work. What came out was a croak, a painful sound that seemed to get lodged in the back of his throat. 

“Sigurd.”

.

“An eye witness said that Sigurd’s car was stopped at a red light when a dark colored SUV pulled up beside them and started shooting. We’ve gotten conflicting accounts on the color of the vehicle. Some people have identified it as black, others are saying blue. We did get a partial plate so I have someone tracking that down as we speak.”

Athelstan’s voice was soft as he spoke to Ragnar. He watched his old friends face, waiting for any kind of reaction. Ragnar was a stoic man and rarely allowed his emotions to shine through. The only indicator that Ragnar was in pain were the tears he allowed to flow free down his cheeks. 

Athelstan glanced over at Lagertha whose own grief stricken face looked back at him. 

Athelstan had known Ragnar when he was a simple foot soldier working beneath Earl Haraldson. Athelstan had been a rookie, working his first big case, smuggling at the Kattegat docks. Athelstan had formed a bond with Ragnar, sharing their curiosity for each other’s culture and upbringing. They quickly formed a friendship that lasted through the ages. Ragnar even served as Athelstan’s confidential informant from time to time. 

He had been there through Björn’s childhood, watching him grow into the powerful man he was now. He was there when Gyda passed, comforting Lagertha on the nights that Ragnar disappeared to ease his own pain. He was there for the birth of each of Ragnar’s sons. He was there for Aslaug’s funeral. He was an attendant at each of their weddings. He was even godfather to one of Björn’s children.

He was a fixture in the life of Ragnar Lothbrok and he would make sure that Sigurd’s death was not in vain. 

“The two men with Sigurd, Thrain Ansson and Armod Visätesson, were both pronounced dead at the scene. Multiple gunshot wounds each. It looks like they used AK-47’s and AR-15 semi-automatic rifles. 

“It was an ambush. Sigurd and his men didn’t have any time to draw their own weapons before they were attacked. Sigurd’s gun was found on the floor of the car indicating that he drew it but was wounded before he could really get it out. EMT’s performed CPR for the entire ten minutes it took them to reach the hospital and ER doctors worked for an additional fifteen minutes but they could never get a pulse. They pronounced him dead on arrival.”

He flipped his notebook closed and put it away, crossing his arms over his chest. He took a deep breath and waited. He knew Ragnar would speak but he was a man of quiet contemplation. He needed time to collect his thoughts before he would speak.  

Ragnar stood facing the two way glass of the medical examiner’s office. Athelstan stood on his left and Lagertha on his right. He kept his face clear of emotion but he could not stop his tears. They rolled freely down his face as he watched the ME roll the metal slab where his son's body lay out of the freezer. He watched in stoic silence as the sheet was pulled back and his son's face was revealed. 

When Athelstan had told him he needed someone to identify the body, Sibylle had insisted. Through her tears, she begged Ragnar to let her identify her husband's body. She clutched at his jacket, tears flowing, and begged to see Sigurd one last time. 

Ragnar refused. 

Not to be cruel, no. He was protecting Sibylle. He knew that his son’s body would be bloody and brutal and he did not want Sibylle to see her husband like that. 

He’d been on more than one end of a body ID and it never got easier, no matter who it was on the other side of the glass. It was made that much more difficult because it was his son laying on that cold slab of steel. 

Sibylle had insisted that she could do the identification but she had been hysterical since they’d told her of Sigurd’s death. Ragnar knew that she would only suffer more if she ID’d her husband. 

She was sitting in a room off to the side with Torvi, Thora, Margrethe, and Aaline. She had been sobbing great heaving breaths. Her face was red and her eyes almost swollen shut. Loud aching cries had fallen from her lips and echoed through the room. Ragnar had to leave, the sounds of her cries too piercing to his own aching heart.  

Torvi had quietly suggested a Valium to calm her and Aaline had agreed. No one was surprised when Margrethe had some in her possession but they thanked her when she put it forward. Sibylle had passed out almost immediately and had laid across the hospital grade couch under the watchful eyes of her sisters-in-law.

Margrethe kept a superficial vigilance on the door, her eyes resting mostly on the cellphone in her hands and less on the door but she was sober, at least. 

Torvi took the responsibility of making all the calls. She contacted Sibylle and Sigurd’s offices, keeping them mostly in the dark but letting them know that something had happened. She spoke several times to Björn, trying to get as much information from him as she could but he seemed to know just as much as them. Which was very little.

Thora and Aaline made it their job to take care of Sibylle. Thora was standing against the wall by Sibylle’s head, watching her sleep. There was a table beside her that she had placed a bottle of water on in case Sibylle woke up. Aaline sat on the other side of the couch with Sibylle’s feet in her lap. She stroked and squeezed her ankles, offering what little physical comfort she could. 

The rest of Ragnar’s sons were holed up in another room, waiting for any kind of information so they could move forward. When Ragnar had left them, they couldn’t sit still. Björn was constantly making calls, talking to his wife and Floki and Rollo. He was establishing security for their properties and protection for the rest of the family.

Ubbe had been leaning against the wall, readjusting his stance every few seconds, incapable of remaining still. Hvitserk sat with his head in his hands, rocking back and forth. Ivar had been pacing. 

They all knew who was behind this attack. It was just that nobody had said it yet.

Ragnar gazed at his son's face for several more minutes before nodding. Athelstan knocked on the glass twice to signify a positive ID and the ME covered Sigurd back up. 

Ragnar watched as his son was pushed back into the freezer, locked away. He did not look away from the inside of the morgue. He felt Athelstan place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze but he did not move. 

“Tell me, Athelstan, who do you think is behind this?” He did not raise his voice. He did not need to. Ragnar was a powerful man. He was not one for many words so when he spoke, people tended to listen.

Athelstan took a deep breath before he spoke. “Who do you think is behind this, Ragnar?” 

Ragnar took a deep breath before turning slowly to address his friend. “I think you know exactly who I’m thinking of. You just can’t prove it. Am I correct?” When Athelstan didn’t answer, he nodded. 

“The Saxon’s are angry, my friend. We made fools of them, made them look weak. That was something they could not stand for so they sought revenge the only way they knew how.” He glanced once more through the two way glass before looking back at Athelstan. 

“Not once in this silly fight for power did I attack a single one of their children. Aethelwulf was a casualty early on, yes, but only after his brother betrayed me. A deal that Aelle agreed was fair was struck between the two of us. Aelle betrayed me, killed two of my men, and so his brother paid the price for that betrayal and was left at his door. 

“Tragic, yes, but necessary. After that, property was seized back and forth between us but never did I make a move to harm one of their children.” Ragnar looked away from Athelstan. His eyes began to shine with fresh tears but he held them back. 

“Our children are grown. They live their own lives, raise their own families, run their own businesses. But they are still our children and I would never deprive a man the love of his child. The agony is too great.” Ragnar reached back and offered his hand to Lagertha who took it in a mighty grip. 

“Aelle and Ecbert know what they have done. They know the fury that will rain down upon them.” Athelstan braced as Ragnar turned burning eyes to him. Rage simmered just below the cool blue surface. 

“This will not go unpunished.”

Tags: @dreamlesswonder @youbloodymadgenius @inforapound @bcarolinablr @funmadnessandbadassvikings @jay-bel @feyrearcheron44 @londongal2810 @khiraeth @didiintheblog @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff

[idumpyourgrass]

Just Go With It- Chapter One

Steve Harrington x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: (Eventually) Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Y/n L/n receives an invite to her ex’s wedding and attempts to invite her co-worker Steve Harrington as her plus one.

A/n: I am so incredibly excited for this! I hope you all enjoy it! Lmk if you would like to be added to the taglist

Warnings: Swearing, typos

Work Count: 1.9k

             The bell rang above the door as you push your way into the Police station. You walk over to your desk, throwing your purse on top of it. Grabbing two cups, you make your way over to the coffee machine. You fill one cup up all the way and the other one you fill up ¼ of the way, filling the rest up with cream. You place one cup on your desk and make your way to the back of the office with the other in your hand.

            You walk past the group of officers, laughing at some cheesy joke. A collective group of “Morning Y/n!” cheerfully greet you.

“Morning boys, is the chief in yet?” You stop and ask.

            “You know he’s never in on time.” Officer Meyer tells you. Rolling your eyes, you continue to the back of the office. You place the coffee on the Sheriff’s desk and head back up to the front. The phone rings as soon as you sit down.

            “Hawkins police station, Y/n speaking, how may I help you?” You hold the phone up to your ear with your shoulder as you pick a magazine to flip through.

            “Yes, I would like to report some kids that keep ding dong ditching me!” You flip the page of your magazine, completely unbothered.

            “Oh, well we will get that taken care of right away, can I have your name and address please?” you put down the magazine and grab a pad of paper and a pen, scribbling down the address, “Right, I will send an officer down right away, have a good day, yup, okay bye.”

            “Hey, Rogers!” You call out. Officer Rogers makes his way over to you, “I need you to go talk to Ms. Drew, she has some ding dong ditchers.”

            Officer Rogers gives you a look of disbelief. The phone rings again.

“Hawkins police station, Y/n speaking, how may I help you?” You look at Officer Rogers, raising your eyebrows, “Go!” You mouth, pointing towards the door. Huffing he walks out of the building.

            “Y/n! It’s Steve, I know I’m late, but I’m on my way!” You prop your feet up on the desk.

“Harrington, if you were on your way you wouldn’t be on the phone right now,” You twirl the phone cord around your finger, “Your milk with a splash of coffee will be cold by the time you get here.”

            “Okay, okay, I’m on my way!” Steve hangs up the phone.

You and Steve have been working together for about five years. Working with the “King of Hawkins high” is not what you planned. Truth be told, you actually liked it. In high school, you managed to get away with only speaking to Steve maybe twice. You went off to college, met who you thought was the love of your life, and planned a whole future with him. As it turned out, he wasn’t the one. Once you graduated college, you lived with him for about a year in Indianapolis, you were engaged. Then, he cheated. You moved back to your home own and got a job as a receptionist at the Police station, working with none other than Steve the hair Harrington, Hawkins police sheriff.

            You hear the sound of a car door close and look out the window, witnessing Steve trip over the curb. You let out a laugh as he walks inside.

            “I saw that,” you laugh. He points a finger at you, “You saw nothing,” rolling your eyes, you stand up and follow him back to his office.

            “So far the only call has been about some ding dong ditchers, but officer Rogers is taking care of that, your coffee is on your desk,” you hand him a folder, “here are some papers, I just need you to look over and sign, and that’s all I got.”

            Steve plops down in his chair, leaning back and propping his feet up on his desk, “Jesus Christ, ding dong ditchers? That’s it? Not even any speeding tickets or anything?” You shake your head, “It’s the last day of school, kids will start getting into trouble, trespassing and what not,” you smile at Steve.

“You’re the only thing keeping me alive L/n.”

“Right back at you Harrington,” You shoot him a finger gun and pull the door shut as you make your way back up to the front desk.

Steve throws down the folder on your desk, “All done?” You flip through the papers, checking for his signature. Steve pulls a chair up to your desk, setting down a box of connect four.

Steve separates the black and red chips, sliding the red chips over to you.

“I’m thinking about getting a puppy.” You blurted. Steve furrowed his brows and looked up at you.

“A dog? Why?”

“I’m alone and bored Harrington, I need something to entertain me.” You place a red chip into the connect four grid.

“You don’t need a dog, you need to get back out there.”

You cross your arms and narrow your eyes, “What do you mean get back out there?”

Steve’s hand hovers over the grid, studying it carefully, finding where his next chip should go, “You need to start dating again, when was the last time you went on a date?”

“No, dating wouldn’t solve any of my issues. Once you start dating, you get attached, and then you think ‘this is the one,’ and then you say I love you and he says it back too but little do you know he doesn’t actually mean it and then he cheats on you and crushes your heart,” you place a red chip in the grid, creating a diagonal line, “Yes! I win!”

            Steve sighs, throwing his arms up in defeat, “You cheated, I don’t know how, but you cheated.”

            Chuckling, you dump the chips out and throw them back into the box. The phone rings and you pick it up, motioning to Steve to pick up the rest of the game.

            “Hawkins Police Station, Y/n speaking, how may I help you? Oh hi Mr. Sheldon. Trespassing?” You give Steve an “I told you so” look, “Teens? South side of the Quarry?” Steve jumps out of his chair, running back to his office, “Alright, I will send Chief Harrington right away.” Steve leaps back down the hall, jumping in the air and placing his hat on his head, “Woo!” He cheers, as he runs out the door.

You grab the mail from your mailbox and unlock your door.

“Bill, bill, junk,” you flip through the mail, “Junk, bill,” you get to the last envelope. Your name and address is written in beautiful penmanship. In the corner, there is a return address you don’t recognize. You place the envelope on the counter, giving it one last look before heading to the pantry. You grab a box of Kraft mac and cheese.

            While you wait for the water to boil you grab the envelope. You carefully tear it open and pull out what’s inside. “Y/n L/n (plus one), You are formally invited to help celebrate Ryan Milar and Franny Kowski as they exchange rings on the beautiful beach of Maui!”

            “Are you shitting me?!” You yell. He has the fucking nerve to invite you to his wedding with the girl he cheated on you with? Without thinking, you throw the invite away.

            You scoop some mac and cheese into a bowl and pour yourself a big glass of wine. You sit down at the dining table letting out a sigh. Your eyes keep flickering over to the trash can. Groaning, you abruptly stand up, making your way over to the trash can. You reach in and grab the invitation.

You remain at the dining table. Your head rests in your hands at you look over the invitation. You look over the pictures of the two of them, laughing, smiling, holding hands in a field, kissing. Using your thumb, you wipe away a stray tear. You slowly move your hand down to the pen that sat next to the invitation, but you quickly retract it.

You grab the sheets and pull them up to your chin. You curl yourself up, hoping this will help hide you from your thoughts. Why can’t you just RSVP no and move on? Maybe it’s because the thought of you going and him realizing he actually loves you is giving you hope. You still think there’s hope that you and he can try again.

 Grabbing your keys from the table, you look at the invitation. It hasn’t moved. Huffing, you grab it and shove it in your purse.

            You sit at your desk, staring at the invitation. A pen hovers over the yes box. Inhaling, you mark it.

            “What’s that?” Officer Meyer asks, picking up the invite. You try to grab it out of his hands.

“It’s nothing!” You stand up on your chair trying to reach it but he keeps it out of your grasp.

“Oooo, a wedding invitation! Ryan and Franny. Who’s your plus one?” Officer Meyer hands you the invite back.

“What?”

“It says Y/n L/n plus one.” You read over the invite. You can’t show up to the wedding alone, that would make you look alone and sad.

“Who the fuck am I supposed to take? I don’t know anyone!”

“I can think of one person.” Officer Meyer nods his head over to the window. Outside, Steve gets out of his car.

You shoot a glare towards Meyer and make your way over to the coffee machine to make Steve’s coffee, or “milk with a splash of coffee.”

“Morning Y/n!” Steve greets you with a smile. You pass him his coffee and watch him walk to the back.

You look over to the invitation that sits on your desk, then to Steve’s office. Taking a deep breath you grab the invite and walk to his office.

“How’s it going Y/n?” Steve takes a sip from his coffee.

“Steve I have to ask you something, and before you say no, I would just like to remind you of all the things I have done for you these past five years. I give you coffee, just how you like it, I have brought you spare keys when you got locked out of the cop car, I have reminded you every year to wish you colleagues happy birthday, I have attended every office party we have had just because you whined about me not going,” Steve just stares at you, his mouth slightly open, “I laugh at all your jokes, even if they aren’t funny, I play games with you, I help you out with your family problems I-“

“Alright, alright, I get it.” Steve cuts you off.

“I need you to be my plus one to Ryan’s wedding.” You get right to the point.

“Ryan? Why does that name sound familiar?” Steve questions.

“Ryan’s, uh Ryan’s my ex.”  Steve’s mouth drops.

“He invited you to his wedding?! That piece of shit!”

“So, will you go with me?”

“Yeah, sure.” Steve responds.

“I should mention,” You hesitate, “it’s in Hawaii.”

Steve nearly spits his coffee out, “Hawaii?”

You slowly nod.

“No, I’m not going to go to Hawaii so you can watch you ex get married.”

“Steve, no please, please, please!” You beg him.

“No, if it was here, sure, but I’m not going to Hawaii.”

“Steve Harrington! Please!” You yell. He looks up at you, seeing how much stress this is causing you. He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Please, please, please, please,” you whisper.

“Ok, fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @mochminnie​

[bog-krazee]

Old souls,new life

words:1550 words

Possible triggers:Body horror,mention of drugs,mention of death,mention of drowning,bugs(flies),winces in pain.let me know if there’s anything else I should add!

Summery:The gang goes to detention and escape to go at a lake,some funky things happen to them after going for a dip.

Chapter 1: The Lake of what the fuck

Patton groaned as he walked through the hall, passing by other students who weren’t in trouble. He wouldn’t lie, he was a little jealous of them, considering where he was going and what he had heard about it. Just a few hours ago, his small babies had been found by the math teacher, who in turn gave Patton detention. Patton tried not to think about it, mostly because the thought made him upset.

Patton reached a door with a sign that had the words “detention room” on it. He pushed the door and went in silently, looking around to see what the room was like. He was a bit underwhelmed when he saw the room was a normal classroom with anti-bullying posters on the walls. A couple of people were already in the room, talking among themselves. On the board was written the following words: Sit in silence. An adult will come shortly.

“You know no one’s gonna come, right? No one ever does.” One of the people present before Patton had come in spoke, turning towards the new guy.

He looked like a boy who had tried to cut his hair all by himself. He had a bit of a mustache that was probably collared in with an eyebrow pencil. The clothes the stranger wore were either old, or just really dirty.

“Name’s Remus by the way, have a seat. What did you do to get here?”

Patton sat down; a bit confused as to how Remus seemed so sure no one would come in for them. He shrugged a bit when Remus asked his question. “It’s kinda dumb.”

“Can’t be worse than mine,” A new voice perked up. “I got dress coded for being too emo.” This new stranger looked like what you’d get if you googled “emo boys”. He had pale skin, dark eye shadow and messy hair along with an oversized hoodie. He looked almost dead.

“Well…it's a bit worse…I guess?....I snuck in some snails and some frogs… and got caught..”

“ohhhhhhh, sounds cool!  Why did you need them? For a prank or something?” Remus asked, suddenly excited at the thought there was another prankster in here with him.

“No!” Patton objected” I wanted to keep them as pets! They’re my babies!”

Remus huffed and slumped a bit. “Whatever.” “What did you do to get here? you never told us” The emo boy pointed out.

Remus chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Well Virgil, if you must know, I got in trouble for my Coke coke again.”

“Coke coke?” Patton pondered, confused.

“Didn’t you learn the first time? You can’t sell Coka cola when you add cocaine t it”

“Cocaine!?” Patton exclaimed, in udder shock a high school student could get cocaine.

“It was in the original recipe!”

“And removed.” Another student entered alongside a second student .The former had a dress shirt with a blue bowtie on. His blond hair was poofed and stubborn when it came to not getting in his face. The student accompanying the blondie looked a lot like Remus, but cleaner, and more disappointed in himself.

Speaking of Remus, He jumped up to his feet, giggling. “My my my! What a surprise! The golden twin, Roman!”

“Oh shut up remus, and likewise, don’t you usually escape?”

“Yea, but I’m waiting for Janus to come break me out. I can’t open the window.”

The nerd looking person rolled his eyes a bit, turning to Virgil and Patton. “Greetings, I am Logan Croft, pleasure meeting the both of you.”

Patton nodded and smiled at Logan while Virgil did awkward finger guns.

They all stayed in the room for at least half an hour before there was a knock on the glass from the outside. Someone was by the window looking in. That stranger had dark hair that was mostly hidden in a cowboy hat with a lil star pin that had ACAB engraved on it as well as a scare on the left time of his face.

“He’s here! Guys, you ready for a prisons break?” Remus exclaimed, watching Janus unlock the window from the outside.

“I don’t know…won’t we get in trouble?” Patton asked nervously.

“Only if you get caught, a thief’s only a thief if they get caught stealing” Janus said as he opened the window“ Plus, there’s a cool lake in the woods you can swim in all year long, come on, it’ll be fun.”

As he spoke, all but the worried Patton and the skeptical Logan had left through the window.

“What would we use to dry ourselves? We don’t have any spare clothes” Logan questioned.

Remus answered him by taking towels out of a bag Janus had brought with him.

Logan seemed content with the answer and left through the opening. Patton sighed and followed the rest of the group.

After about twenty minutes at least, they reached the lake.

“Last one in is a rotten egg!” Remus ran and cannon balled in the water.

Roman joined his brother, laughing with him. Janus went in in a much calmer manner alongside Patton. Logan got in after removing his clothes, as to keep the dry.

Virgil however stayed on land, eyes glued on the water. He had always been told about the danger of water,  the fact that 788 people drowned in a year. Of the many creatures that would joyfully gobble him up. He didn’t come to swim, just to leave the room.

“Get in Virgil! The water’s great!” Yelled Roman as he swam

“N-no…I’m good” Virgil responded, shaking a bit.

Roman kept trying to convince Virgil to get in the water, even promising to hold him in case he didn’t know how to swim. Remus was getting bored from Virgil’s stubbornness so he got up and ran up to Virgil, causing him to run.

While running, Virgil trips on a stick. Thanks to that, Remus was able to catch up to Virgil and quickly picked him up, despite Virgil’s struggling.

He made his way to the lake, cackling with a large grin over his face.

“This is what happens to cowards like you!”

And with that, Remus threw Virgil in the water, running to the bag Janus had brought, but that Remus had added some things in. One of those was a jar full of flies.

Virgil sank deeper in the water, he was confused. Every time he was told about water, it was described as cold and unwelcoming. But at this moment, he felt warm, held and free, as if the water was holding him. Welcoming him back into a home he had forgotten. He wasn’t scared, and he didn’t know why.

Back on land, Remus had opened his jar of flies over the lake, swarming the four other swimmers still in the water. Logan tried to ignore them as he held onto a rock attached to land, having felt much heavier when he got in the water. Roman was trying to kill in the flies. Janus tried to swap them away with his hat .Patton was swimming around, generally unbothered by the flies until his stomach growled slightly. Patton looked at the flies and opened his mouth, a longer and stickier version of his tongue flings out and caught a handful of flies, making Patton eat them happily until he realized what had happened.

Remus sees that and starts to laugh heavily, having never seen anyone able to do that, and not seeming bothered by the tongue.

Suddenly, Janus, Logan and Roman quickly get out the water, screaming their heads off. Leaving Patton to think that he had scared the others, he did scare himself with what he had done. It also left Remus confused, since it wasn’t THAT creepy, right? Just a small mutation or something? They got less confused when Virgil popped his head out of the water.

Virgil’s skin was much paler, and a bit purpler. Two large fins were where his ears should be and gills at the side of his neck and his teeth replaced by large fangs.

Patton screamed and gets out the water quickly, tripping and galling to the ground quickly. It was quickly discovered that his fingers had gotten thinner and bigger and rounder around his fingertips. the same thing had happened to his feet.

Remus, Logan, Roman and Janus all took steps back from Patton, checking themselves in horror and fear.

“Um…Logan?” Janus started ”Did…you always have…bumps on your back?”

“No?...I have two birthmarks…why?”

“there…there are two bumps…on you back��”

Logan quickly checked his back, and sure enough, Janus was right. He carefully touched them but quickly pulled his hand away, wincing in pain. When he had winced, the bumps moved and flattened, looking now just like Logan’s normal birthmarks.

Virgil, who had caught on to what had happened to him, managed to crawl out the water, his legs turned into a fishtail with more fins and  some gills on his sides. When he had gotten on land, his tail stretched and split in half, becoming legs again. The scales now simply sliding off him and falling to the ground. Similar things happened to Patton’s hands and toes, turning back to normal.

“well” Remus began ”I think it’s safe to say that we are never coming back here ever again.”

“Agreed” The other said in unison before quickly running home.

[katsukikitten]

A Pink Rose 3

"Im the shit. yea I know Im the shit, if you dont buy me what I want Imma throw a fit"

The song dances down the long hall, flooding into your office as your sharp eyes rove over long numbers with a smile. You press a manicured claw onto the intercom.

"U-chan. Could you ask the DJ to turn the song up for me please?" You speak softly before a "Yes ma'am" is echoed back to you. You dance to the chorus as you subtract and add more numbers to several documents. You cannot help the cat smile that is painted on your lips as you rip through an envelope with your sharp black claw. They are not obnoxiously long but long and sharp enough to slice skin.

You should know, you scratched someone's ex husband across the face last week. The memory of the blood dripping down your fingers combined with the feel and smell of money sends a shiver down your spine. You count it quickly, sorting the bills so they all face the same way. The color of the money is tantalizing, signifying it is the biggest bill in production, you set out three straps and sort the money easily before sealing it beneath the purple paper band. The old desk drawer groans from weight, you slip the money on top of a small stack before shutting it with a harsh click of a lock. You sort through loans so seamlessly that it seems as if they are sorting themselves. A small pile sits to the left of you of what has been paid in full. A slightly larger stack of paid on time. A much larger pile of past due. You finger through past due to a certain file that you flip through, several months with no payment, not even a word of pleading for an extended time. You read about his personal life, his two kids and wife. You tap the pen to your glossed lip before you shut the mineola file folder, scrawling in cursive Repossession ALL ASSETS, U. Another similar case and its clear early on that you are feeling merciless as you are not planning to send your normal reminders and going straight to your final resort. Patience suddenly worn thin as the deep red ink reminds you of a certain hot head.

Repossession ALL ASSETS D

An abnormal boom sounds off in the lobby, sounding suspiciously like an explosion. You lean back in your office chair,tongue poking at your lower lip while your black claw raps against the smooth grain.

For a moment you think to get up, that you're needed but your crew does not call for you over the intercom so you go back to your work.

You needed to trust them to handle things when you weren't here so what better way than to pretend you aren't here.

Aother file whispers your name, you open it to learn he doesn't have much of anything.

No house

No car

No kids

No wife

But he is quite late. Would you benefit from just repossessing him or would you have to ki...

Before you can even finish the thought the door to your office is blasted off of its hinges as yelling floods into the space.

"Fuck off shit Deku. That's why you're a pet now." Bakugou yells before spitting in the face of the emerald haired man.

Izuku let's his eyes slide to you and when he sees your tight grip on the folder be decides it's best not to witness what is to come next.

You try to keep your cool when it comes to irate clients that barge in with no appointment.

But your freshly re-laquered oak door lying inches from your desk makes it difficult.

"OI!" He opens his mouth to make it worse.

In your hot rage you crush the folder shut before writing in heated script Elimination Contract w/ T.S or Dbi.

"What." You bite out holding onto his piercing gaze as you attempt to calm yourself, "Do I owe this pleasure after a month of blissful silence?"

Bakugou chooses this time to slam an obscene amount of money on the table instead of opening his fat obnoxious mouth.

You stare at the stacks of haphazardly rubber banded bills and wonder if he was more well off than you thought as far as capital.

Or if he was foolish enough to hurt himself by helping out his best goon.

"What is this for?" You fold your hands before resting your head atop your laced fingers.

Explosions pop along his exposed skin and you smile, amused at how easy it is to rile him. Part of you wants to use your power to amplify his wrath but you like your office much too much for that.

Plus you're sure you didn't need more than a few choice words to egg him on further.

"Don't play fucking dumb." He growls slamming his fists onto the top of the desk, hard enough that items rattle and some files flutter to the floor.

"I don't believe that I am 'playing dumb'. But speaking of," You lean closer as if sharing a secret, "I would be a little more careful with my quirk if I were you. They are illegal to use under any circumstance after all."

His gaze darkens, he has half a mind to take all of this money back and just kill you.

He grits his teeth, there is a reason why everyone who crosses your path becomes your pet or deeply indebted to you.

Its astounding to think that in a short eight years a new family dominated the southern region of the city and majority of the southern part of the country.

Not to mention you were only 17 when you started.

Or so the rumors go.

Dont get Bakugou wrong, he is not hesitating merely biding his time.

Because he is more than ready to go in guns a blazing but he isn't willing to risk his own empire should you best him.

Even if that is a slim to none chance.

He has a promise to keep and a reputation to uphold.

He leans closer, leveling his eyes to yours as he would any other head of a family that is threatening him.

"When you're as big as me the police know your quirk and know to look away." His voice comes out dangerously dark and your mood sours.

Just like a fucking Bakugou to be so damn cocky.

You see the ghost of his Father in his eyes and your blood begins to boil.

Vision tunneling in as your mind flashes the sight of angry pools of bright red and the tang of pennies.

Curiosity and agitation cause you to move your head to one hand trying damn hard to seem disinterested as you reach out with your right.

Bakugou flinches back and you smile a wide cat smile as this confirms that he knows.

He knows you need to touch your opponent to "work" them.

But what he doesn't know is you only need to touch them once.

You furrow your brow as if confused as you press the intercom that was next to where his hand rested.

"Deku, please return to my office." You say syrupy sweet as you hold eye contact with a now furious Bakugou.

"Yes Madam. Do I need to take out the trash?" He asks as he makes his way behind you. Katuski's skin pops with explicit explosions furthering your content.

"No my love," You motion him towards you after pointing at a small rolling chair in the corner, "Please help me sort this mess."

You take the piles and begin breaking the rubber bands and sorting the money into manageable piles.

"How much is here?" Hands flying over bills making sure they face the same way.

"Enough." The hot head bites out.

Agitation fills the office as you fight your urge to scream.

Yelling got you no where in your life before being Madame and it will probably get you no where after.

"So you don't know?" A collected question with a hint of venom. Izuku shrinks away from you.

Burning scarlet eyes fly to Deku's thick forearm. An angry white fissure drags along the two bands, breaking their infinite circle and with it the power over the family.

You did this to him and yet the emerald haired man sits by you like a loyal dog.

Another heated palm kisses the wood of the desk, that endless popping echoes.

"Just fucking count it!!" The ash blonde yells.

This time you stand, fully taking in the man as you round the old desk. His attire further encourages your wrath.

It is difficult to be unbothered by him, what with the sloppy way he wears his suit.

Sans jacket. Black pants that are not ill fitting, they show off his muscular thighs and calves but are not overly tight. Black vest with intricate stitching of dragons that could be missed if one did not look closely. The vest sits snug over a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow to show off the beginnings of his tattoo but most importantly the two bands that carry more status than any seal or crown. Lastly his black tie, slightly loosened as if pulled or improperly tied.

Sadly, in this underworld, appearance speaks volumes and Bakugou's outfit screams son of the family or worse yet goon.

His tattoos indicate that he is the head of his family so he should dress like it.

It drives you up the wall that he doesn't. because it would drive him insane too.

"You're already going to be undermined because you're a woman so appearance is especially important for you my tiger lily. Now please dress like a proper lady."

His words echo in your head now and you sure as hell wouldn't dare to admit that you're turning more and more into someone of your past.

Sad that it took him dying to see eye to eye.

You grab onto the silk tie roughly jerking him forward with the motion.

Your noses touch and your breath mingles more politely than the two of you.

"Touch my Father's desk one more time and I will have your hands for display." You growl lowly, igniting fire in those ember eyes, "Got. It. Poprock?"

"Pop. Rock?" His teeth grind but you shove him away slightly. Still holding onto his tie as you straighten it. Before sashaying back behind your desk.

It is the hot head's turn to drink you in as your wide hips and strong legs carry you back to your black leather throne.

Your black dress is body con before flaring out into somewhat of wider train. The dress is solid, hiding where your family crest would be in ink below your collar bone but not covering enough where the start of it cannot be seen. The neckline dips just to your solar plexus showing off the clean bisected skin with sensual hints of swirling ink winking at the world. The sleeves are lace and stop at the wrists but not opaque enough that one would miss your status or the tattoos at 3/4 of your arm dancing up beneath the smooth fabric.

Your heels clack before you take a seat, motioning deadly claws at Izuku to continue counting.

The unique sound of an electronic money counter whirls in the room before beeping when its reach the set number of bills.

"You may want to sit." You say without looking up as deft hands swiftly sort and brick stacks of money, "This may take a while. I can call for tea."

Bakugou growls, plopping himself into the blood red leather chair in front of your desk. He is temporarily hypnotized by your capable hands and how quickly they move across money.

He watches you sort, face, hand count and strap what seems like endless amounts of money that turn into large bricks of paper for what feels like hours.

He wonders how long you've been working with cash.

He wonders even more about how you got someone to tattoo those two bands on you.

Everything about you screamed old money and family traditions.

The way you held yourself, your attire, but especially the way your ink swirled with lotus and tiger lilies alike. How it was designed much like his own, a suit never to be shrugged off.

He clenches his jaw as he thinks, the only way to get those bands are to show the tattoo artist the cold body of the former head. Bakugou relives memories that he is in no mood for before your somehow soothing voice breaks the other wise silence.

"Shouldn't Kirishima have been the one to drop this off?" You cock your eyebrow as you place a final heavy brick onto a tray, "Be a dear and lock this up with U-chan?"

Izuku nods at your request before you summon her via intercom. She enters swiftly and disappears with that damn Deku into one of the two doors behind you.

"Well." You prompt earning a nasty glare.

"He's caught up at the moment." He watches you rearrange paperwork before your hand flies to a handle, as if you suddenly remembered somrthing.

He narrows his eyes as he watches you produce two small pieces of chocolate. You set a spicy chili dark chocolate in front of him before unwrapping a milk chocolate for yourself.

Scarlet eyes burn into the small red square, did this come from a variety pack?

Or did you know this was the only sweet he really ate?

It had to be the former.

"Do tell!" You exclaim as if you hadn't just threatened him. His eyes rove over your office looking for any such displays and when he sees a jar of bright blue eyes he suppresses a shudder.

"Well she's hard to miss what with all that *pink*" Bakugou shrugs feigning boredom as he sees a vein pop in your head. You stand, your leather throne wheeling behind you as you make your way past your fallen door.

"You're just gonna leave me here with your secrets, Gatinna?" A deadly smirk forms on his lips as you turn to face him.

Eyes narrowed to slits carrying a gaze sharp enough to cut flesh.

"I dare you." The room feels as if it darkens but Bakugou pays it no mind as he picks up his chocolate, popping it into his mouth as he watches you storm into the bar.

He stands to follow as this could prove interesting.

@alwayslost123 for you bb

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment is All We Are (5.1/?)

This chapter is REALLY long so I split the text ver into 2 parts for Tumblr. 

AO3 link: here

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Story type: Romance/Drama/comedy

Pairing: Dazai x OC/reader (Dazai is endgame, fic is long-running and will also feature Kunikida x OC)

OC (Kusunoki Kyou) and Ability are based off of "The Story of Your Life," written by Ted Chiang, aka the basis of the Amy Adams movie "Arrival."

Rating: M for Blood/violence/themes of depression, anxiety, suicide TW: The second half of this story will deal more heavily with themes of suicide, depression/anxiety. *No major character death will occur*

Story follows OC as she joins the ADA, partners up with the detectives to solve various cases around Yokohama and develops feelings for Kunikida and Dazai (Dazai endgame).

Written for those who want an immersive ADA experience :)

Updates every Sunday evening around 6pm PST

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It wasn’t always like this.

Okay, maybe it was.

For as far back as I could remember, the visions had always been random, random events I would see of the future. If I was in physical contact with someone, the visions would be from their future. If I wasn’t, then the visions would be from my own life. Sometimes when I was really stressed, the visions of my future would actually come in the form of a dream, like in manga or novels.

Perhaps that was the best way to explain how The Story of Your Life worked; it was like taking out a book, keeping a finger against the pages and flipping until that finger finally caught on a single page. Then, flip open that page and read the first paragraph that jumps out; the book was the person’s life and the paragraph was the event, a single scene from that person’s future that I bore witness to.

The visions didn’t always show me death, blood and despair.

In fact, the very first vision I had was that of a puppy—a cute little thing my friend Kiko gifted me at my fifth birthday party. I must’ve seemed shockingly unsurprised (and possibly rude) to Kiko and her parents, but I couldn’t bring myself to explain that I’d seen her giving me this puppy half a year ago.

In retrospect, the puppy vision had been great. Sure, it took some of the fun out of a surprise gift but it was still a vision about a puppy. Honestly, if my visions were nothing more than glorified versions of baby animal videos, I’d be perfectly fine with that.

Maybe then, I wouldn’t be left with this overwhelming fear of my own Ability.

I used to be able to touch people, shake their hands, and hold them. In the beginning, “The Story of Your Life” only activated with a prolonged touch...

At first, “prolonged” meant more than ten seconds. That meant getting to play tag in kindergarten, going over to friends’ houses and having sleepovers. Normal stuff. My life didn’t even change all that much when ten seconds shrank to seven some time around middle school; I was able to play contact sports and go out on shopping trips without incident. Seven seconds became five halfway through high school. Again, no need to make lifestyle changes. I could still hold hands with friends, so long as it didn’t go on for too long and I was still able to have my first kiss without seeing even a hint of my boyfriend’s future.

And then, college. Five seconds was no longer doable. It became three at best and just before I’d become a shut-in, even an instantaneous touch was enough to trigger my Ability. By then, however, I’d gotten pretty used to having the visions, so I remained relatively unbothered when I’d see a vision of the barista breaking up with his girlfriend when I got my morning coffee. In other words, managing my Ability was no big deal.

Or so I thought.

About six months ago, my visions went from being an occasional distraction to a panic-inducing nightmare. I still wasn’t sure why...

Maybe it was just luck of the draw. I’d only seen good things, mostly, for the first ten-plus years at least: faraway cities, weddings, and graduations. Every once in a while there would be a failed exam or a lost wallet but overall nothing too out of the ordinary for an otherwise regular teenager to see.

Maybe it was just a sign of the times. As I got older, so did the people around me, so the more likely it was that they were entering that phase of their lives where things could start to go south. Or perhaps their previous lives were just catching up to them.

Or maybe, it was karma finally catching up to me. I’d be lying if I said that I’d never used my Ability for personal gain before. There were a few exams I managed to ace with the help of a well-timed touch of the hand and a few pitfalls I’d managed to avoid through a combination of sheer luck and a decently fast reflex. Perhaps six months ago, whatever granted me this power finally decided that I had a good run and it needed to end in the worst way possible...

And it all happened so quickly.

I never had much control over my visions to begin with and they never really bothered me before but suddenly, they were invading every part of my life—and with each vision I saw, the accuracy increased. My dreams became more vivid than ever; I would see things that had yet to occur and before I moved out, my college roommate would wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of my screams. I started passing out in the middle of class if someone so much as tapped my bare shoulder and when I came to again, it would be a minute before I remembered where I was and what I was doing. I was starting to consider seeking some kind of help until one day, I finally saw my first death.

It was horrible. I was at dinner with friends on a group date and I hit it off with one of the guys. He wanted to take me to the movies that weekend, and being relatively new to college and Yokohama in general, I agreed. Then, smiling, he’d held my hand just a millisecond too long and I saw it: him getting hit by a car while crossing the street.

I tried not to think about it too hard. Sometimes the vision were wrong. There were times when they’d been off by just a fraction of a second and because of that, I still had hope. Maybe there was a chance that things could change last minute, either by a miracle or by someone’s sheer force of will. But as time passed, my anxiety grew. He was running late and I didn’t like it. Finally, I spotted him at the intersection and, frantic, I waved him down just as the “walk” sign lit up and he started crossing the street.

That’s when it happened.

A single black vehicle, no license plate, ran a red... and ran into him.

I would remember seeing his body flying into the air for the rest of the semester.

After that, I started taking an alternate route to class, just to avoid going anywhere near the part of campus where he’d died. It wasn’t that people were whispering behind my back or accusing me of having a part of it—I just couldn’t handle the memory.

That was the first death.

The first.

It was as if some kind of floodgate had been opened. I had never seen death before that day but after...? Death became all I saw. I briefly shook hands with a foreign exchange student and immediately saw an image of a middle-aged woman lying in a hospital wing. The woman had been the student’s mother and I heard she died a week later. I could not have been responsible for the cancer that claimed her life but I spent weeks feeling guilty about it anyway. There was another incident where I accidentally, and literally, bumped into my English teacher on the way to class. I saw his brother being hit by a bus downtown. His death was announced a month later, on the morning news. When I saw it, I broke down in the middle of the cafeteria and my friend Eri had to take me home.

And it just kept happening.

I became afraid to touch people. I began wearing longer layers during the summer months and started keeping to myself. When even a brush of the hand or bumping into people on public transit could trigger a vision, I started wearing gloves. I got a lot of stares on the subway for wearing itchy winter gloves in the subtropical heat and the knitted fabric made gripping the overhead handholds difficult so I ended up changing to disposable nitrile instead. I got less stares for that but unfortunately, I eventually had to give up public transit entirely when I got squished between two tourists and had a panic attack in the middle of the car.

But giving up public transportation put me in a tough spot. My dorm was pretty far from campus and I didn’t know how to drive. If I really wanted to, I could walk but that would take far too long and make for far too many chances to see another person’s death. And I really didn’t want to ask anyone for a ride because that would just mean more questions and more explanations I wasn’t willing to give.

And yet somehow, I managed to make it work for a time, waking up early to go to class, avoiding hangouts in-between classes and running back to my dorm as soon as I got a chance. But I was still attending classes with lots of people in a crowded lecture hall and living with roommates in a dormitory building. Ultimately, the stress of trying to avoid people while also trying to keep up with increasingly difficult classes caused me to start having nightmares. They were frequent and they were bad. And I knew that these were all things that would someday happen to me: me and a friend being held hostage in an abandoned apartment building, a woman in a suit and sunglasses pointing two machine guns directly at my face, a man didn’t recognize growing steadily colder in my arms as I screamed for him not to leave me...

That following morning, I woke up sobbing—crying as if I wished I was the one who had died instead. When my roommate tried to comfort me, I jerked away out of instinct and immediately realized I’d made a mistake.

And that was it.

I couldn’t it take any more.

About a week later, I left the dorm and found myself a tiny studio apartment, one that I could still afford on my shoestring budget and more importantly, one where I could live completely alone.

Soon after, I dropped out of college and became a shut-in. In true shut-in fashion, I shunned all contact from classmates and friends in case someone came to visit and decide they needed to barge in because they couldn’t—shouldn’t—do such a thing. My apartment had become both my sanctuary and my jail. So long as nothing changed around me, none of the horrible visions would come to pass.

Thankfully, a month into my new lifestyle, the nightmares stopped.

So long as nobody came near me, I wouldn’t have to witness another death with my waking eyes...

I still remembered the night I decided to stop going to class. It was the same night I looked out the windows and saw my own reflection, touched my fingers to my face and pulled them away, confirming that it was indeed blood and not salt tears that dripped down my cheeks. I started avoiding mirrors from that day on and threw myself fully into watching anime, joining fandoms and drawing commissions, anything to distract myself from the invasive, self-destructive thoughts that grew stronger whenever I looked into a reflection of my own eyes.

Yes... Staying was the only solution. If I never stepped out of the apartment again, the world would be spared the sight of my hollow eyes and bloody tears... And I—I would be spared the curse of witnessing things I should never have seen to begin with.

***

“So you’ve been holed up in your apartment for the last six months doing...”

Kunikida frowned, tapping his pen against his chin.

“What exactly? Rent in Yokohama isn’t cheap. How have you been supporting yourself?”

“Commissions,” I explained. “I started watching a lot of anime and playing video games and fans pay good money for drawings of their favorite characters, original characters or even pictures of themselves in a stylized form.”

Summing up my Ability meant practically telling these two my entire life story, not just recalling the events of this morning, and I had to commend the detectives’ patience for sitting through what I would’ve considered a pretty long-winded explanation. Now I was even telling them how I’d stretched my budget and supplemented my allowance.

I held out my hand.

“If I could have some paper and something to write with, I could show you, if you like...?”

Dazai immediately ripped Kunikida’s notebook and pen out of his hands. Ignoring his partner’s protests, he held them out to me and, throwing his arm out to keep Kunikida from taking back his own things, sat back to watch me draw. Within seconds, a coarse outline appeared on the pages, followed by facial features: eyes, nose, hair—a minute later, I handed back Kunikida’s notebook, a quick, rudimentary pen sketch of each detective on its two open pages.

As one, they leaned in to stare at it.

“This is pretty good,” Kunikida said, looking up at me. He squinted down at the page, tracing the lines with his fingers, mumbling, “Does my hair really look like that?”

“It is... isn’t it?” Dazai agreed, rubbing his chin.

As Kunikida puzzled over the drawing, a mischievous glint appeared in Dazai’s dark eyes.

“Kusunoki-san... Have you ever considered a career as a sketch artist?”

At once, Kunikida shot him a warning look.

“Don’t even think about it, Dazai,” he growled, “Making decisions without the President’s approval—”

“I’m not making a decision, only a suggestion,” Dazai declared. “And what’s wrong with a good suggestion?”

“Dazai...”

Ignoring Kunikida entirely, he turned to me.

“Really, I don’t know how we survived like this for so long. We’re a detective agency, one of the best in the city and yet, we don’t have a sketch artist... It’s a shame, don’t you agree, Kusunoki-san? What do you think? Interested in a change of career?”

“Wait... are you asking me to join you?” I asked warily, looking from one detective to the other. “Why would you want someone like me? I can’t fight. I don’t even know how to shoot a gun.”

“I’m asking you,” Dazai said pointedly, ��if you would be interested in becoming a sketch artist. I mean, it just so happens that we are in dire need of one—(“No one said that!” Kunikida roared)—and you happen to have the exact skill set we are looking for! Not to mention you’re an Ability User... Just think of all the people you could help.”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled, looking away, “Wouldn’t someone like me be more of a burden than an asset? I can’t even control my Ability, much less use it to help people—”

“But what if you could control it?”

I froze. Having had no control of my Ability for my entire life, the possibility hadn’t even occurred to me...

“There’s a way?” I asked, looking back up just as Dazai’s grin turned into a triumphant smirk. “How?”

“I could tell you,” he drawled, his smirk growing even wider, “But it’s a closely guarded secret. You’d have to join us if you want to find out... Of course, I’d be more than happy to vouch for you if you’d like to apply—”

“Dazai—!! You—!”

Kunikida was on his feet.

“We can’t just offer a job to every stray Ability User we rescue from the Port Mafia! Atsushi was one thing but—”

“Oh my, so you’d be perfectly fine sending a nice girl like her back into the jaws of the Port Mafia? Really, I thought better of you, Kunikiiiiiida-kun—”

“That’s not what I said!”

“So you agree, we should take her in?”

Kunikida’s face was in his hands.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t want to help, but it’s not our decision to make! And besides, she’s clearly been through enough, what makes you think she would agree to—”

“I’ll do it.”

Kunikida’s mouth dropped open. He looked stunned.

“You will—? Wait, no, I never said I agreed—”

“Let me apply,” I said, looking him firmly in the eyes. “I want to help people. I’ve always wanted to. Isn’t that what you do here at the Agency? Use your special Abilities to make their lives better?”

“That’s true,” Kunikida admitted, folding his arms over his chest, “But this can be a dangerous job. Especially for a non-combatant. You almost died today! Why do you want to help people so bad? In fact, let me ask you...”

His eyes flashed from behind his glasses, his expression fierce.

“Why did you go so far for a neighbor with whom you weren’t particularly close?”

I glared right back.

“I had to save her.”

“But it sounds like you already did, when you pulled her off the sidewalk—”

“That’s not good enough!” I burst out, startling Kunikida. “How could I say I saved her, truly saved her, if I knew she was going to die in a week and I did nothing to stop it?”

My hands clenched into fists.

“That doesn’t count. Saving someone means seeing it through to the end, to fully committing yourself and doing what’s right! Isn’t that what you did for me? What both of you did to bring me here today?”

Kunikida was struck dumb. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Dazai got to his feet.

“I think it’s about time I take Kusunoki-san back to her apartment,” he said, making his way to the door, his long tanned trench coat swishing elegantly as he moved.

He patted Kunikida on the shoulder.

“I’ll let you think about what we should tell the President later.”

Kunikida instantly flushed an angry, embarrassed pink.

“Dazai, you—”

Ignoring his partner, Dazai called out to me.

“Kusunoki-san? I won’t be taking you back to your original apartment tonight. We’ll be going to one of the Agency’s safe houses instead. After everything that’s happened, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Port Mafia had staked out your building and had someone ready and waiting for you at home. And if you’re wondering, Yamazaki-san is on her way to her nephew’s place in Nagano, so you won’t need to worry about her.”

“But what about my things?” I asked, “What am I gonna tell the landlord?”

“It’s already been taken care of,” Dazai replied, opening the door for me. “Shall we?”