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bcbdrums · 4 years ago

Text

Purification

All right. @cocoa-at-night was mad at me, and I know others will be... So this is in fact a second sequel to "Torment.” I already had this idea in my head as a possible sequel so... Who says I can’t write two! Therefore, readers, you get two options now. Decide which way you prefer the story to end.

To be very clear, this is a different sequel than “Immolation” and follows a different path to a different ending. It begins the same however. Please enjoy “Purification.”

FFn AO3

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Purification

Shego ran the dampened washcloth over the smooth, polished surface of the bar and stared at the grains of wood beneath. She nearly had them memorized, for how many times she'd run the cloth over them to wipe away the condensation left by the rims of drinking glasses. She always tried to find vague shapes in their patterns; faces and objects and sometimes familiar ocean waves. She didn't have anything else to do with her days, after all.

The small wall-mounted television in the corner continued to play news from the local channel, and after three years she could finally understand the Spanish of the broadcast. She'd picked up the local slang faster by necessity, since she couldn't use her powers to protect herself from the type of crowd the bar attracted. It was ironic, for its nearness to the Caribbean, but the slums of El Salvador had been the perfect place to hide. She easily translated the broadcast into the more comfortable English:

"...And here is Dr. Drakken only days ago, unveiling his latest innovation at the world's largest scientific conference in Berlin..." the voice from the TV cut through the minimal noise at the late hour in the bar.

A soft smile came to Shego's face. And then suddenly her vision was filled with the large form of a dark-skinned man wearing a t-shirt that had seen too many years, and with a face that hadn't seen a razor in weeks.

"Venga, chica. Bailar conmigo."

Shego stepped back from the strong scent of alcohol and scowled at the man, a regular at the establishment, but one who never quite took the hint. Especially not when he had had too many.

"Raquel?" came the accented voice of Esteban, her boss and the owner of the place, from across the room where he was wiping down tables and stacking chairs for closing.

She leaned around the offensive man to merely smirk at her boss knowingly in return. He grimaced slightly, no doubt wondering how much of a mess there would be to clean after she was finished with the brute.

Truthfully, she didn't always reject the men who asked her to dance. Whenever she'd had a few shots it was easier to say yes, and she enjoyed closing her eyes and moving to the rhythm of the music, and imagining herself in a different place. But it would always end the moment any of them tried to lay a hand on her...

She couldn't cross that line. There was only one set of hands she ever wanted to touch her, and they never would. Allowing herself to indulge once and pretend with anyone else would open the gate to far worse sins than her most definitely out of control drinking, and she didn't want to deal with the ramifications of heading down that path.

She still wasn't sure when she'd fallen in love with Drakken. She'd certainly been in love with him before she left, but she'd only realized the fact while in her self-imposed exile, when all she could think about was him.

Numerous magazines and newspapers were delivered to the tiny room she rented above the bar, but not of the variety she'd used to get. Now it was all science periodicals, and world news... And her wall was adorned with newspaper cutouts with his familiar, confident grin. The only reason she watched the news at all was for word of him.

She was pathetic.

Her 'clean break' as she'd hoped to make it seemed to have worked for him. He was finding the success she knew he would as soon as she was out of the picture, no longer holding him back. She knew that would have been the result had she stayed, making him question his sudden yearning for 'good.' Less for good, she knew of course, and more for the recognition and honor his genius rightly deserved. She wouldn't have said that years ago, but with the new understanding she had of her feelings...

She couldn't have stayed. He would have denied himself for her. And she refused to let herself think it was because his feelings were deeper too. No, that wasn't possible. It had been made abundantly clear to her over their four years as partners in crime that he simply didn't think of her that way. She was little more than an asset and a comfort; a listening ear for his endless dronings and rantings, easily replaced.

So she had left a note on her pillow one day after painfully listening to him describe the amazing job offers he had received, and simply vanished. She knew he would come looking for her, as he always did because 'he needed her,' so she had made herself impossible to find. She'd not hardly used her powers in three years, and she'd managed to convinced the locals in the high-poverty, high-crime rate slums she'd hidden in that her skin color was due to something between genetics and illness.

'Shego' was gone.

Now she was Raquel, the barmaid who drank too much, wouldn't let anyone get close, and who had a strange obsession with science magazines. Esteban and others had tried to get her to talk about herself, or her apparent science interest for awhile, but they'd finally taken the hint that she was out there in the middle of nowhere, at one of the only respectable establishments in those slums, to make sure know one ever knew her story.

Shego waited until Esteban wasn't looking, and then she lifted her hand above the leering man's head as his greasy fingers reached across the bar for her, and she let him have just enough of a pressure blast from her glow to knock him out. When the man's large, dead-weight hit the floor, her boss turned with a start.

"Ai ai ai, Raquel! Someday I will see how you accomplish that."

Shego merely smirked as her eyes shifted back to the television. It was a simple, lonely life... One that she might leave someday to pursue other interests. 'Shego' as the world had known her could probably never return, after her world-saving ventures with Drakken. She wouldn't want to put his career at risk in any way. But living from day to day and drink to drink, with only her periodicals and the TV to briefly soothe the ache in her heart wasn't plausible. She needed to move on.

The reason she hadn't was for the lack of one thing in every photo, article, and broadcast about the blue former villain who had saved the world: he was always alone. Even the candids taken by paparazzi that she would find in the trash magazines she had specially delivered only ever showed him having breakfast alone at a sidewalk cafe, or seated alone in an audience as he waited to accept an award.

Why hadn't he met someone and settled down already?

That was the last piece... That was what was missing. When Drakken finally had a woman on his arm, and his happiness was complete...then she could risk moving out into the world and being seen again. If he had someone else, he most definitely wouldn't need her. And she wouldn't have to face up to the fact of possibly seeing him again, with the feelings she'd been harboring for too many years that simply refused to die.

"...It has been confirmed to have been a suicide attempt now, as a note was leaked to the press by a source who wishes to remain anonymous from within Japanese Intelligence..."

Shego's attention snapped to the television, where now a years-old photograph of Drakken at the UN, wearing his medal, was displayed in the corner of the screen as the Spanish news anchor continued to read the copy.

"The note was addressed to fellow-hero Kim Possible, and the text reads: 'I can't figure out what I did wrong. I can't live without her anymore. I'm sorry.' The note was not signed, but handwriting analysis easily showed it to be in the script of Dr. Drakken."

Shego felt the world spinning around her as her vision seemed to spin in the opposite direction. Her head swam and ached all at once, and she could see bright spots dancing in front of her eyes even as her view darkened. She stumbled forward to lean against the bar as she struggled to listen to the television.

"And the world remains in shock, one week from the date the acclaimed scientist attempted to take his life by jumping from the roof of the Osaka World Trade Center. We will keep you updated with more details as the story continues to unfold. This is Paola Ramos, reporting."

Suicide attempt? Drakken, of all people? It didn’t make sense... He had everything...everything he had ever dreamed of, and more. She had made sure of it by removing herself from his life so he would have nothing holding him back. How could he have attempted suicide?

"Raquel! ¿Qué pasa?"

She peered upward and let Esteban take her hand and help her straighten up from where she had all but slumped over the bar.

"Phone..." she managed to get out, her throat strangely tight. “I need...I need to know...”

“You need to make a phone call?” he asked.

Shego nodded. As Esteban fumbled in his pockets for his cell phone, Shego thought about what had been reported as the contents of the suicide note.

"I can't live without her anymore," it had read.

He couldn't... He didn't... He wouldn't...mean me?

Shego felt like she might throw up, and as Esteban offered her the phone, she moved past him and all but fell onto one of the bar stools, suddenly feeling like her feet would fail her. She began dialing a long-memorized number, then realized as the phone rang that she didn't know if the number would be the same after so long, but that thought was broken by Esteban stepping into her vision.

"Are you calling 911? What is wrong?" he asked, his dark eyes wide and worried as he studied her. But then, the phone connected.

"Hello?" the familiar voice said through the line.

Shego suddenly realized she had only ever called the girl 'Princess' or 'Pumpkin' or 'Kimmie,' and wasn't sure how to address the now young woman and for a brief time, ally.

"Kim..." she finally settled on, the name leaving her throat hoarsely.

"Yes? Who is...?" A familiar gasp sounded through the phone. "Shego?"

"Drakken..." was her one-word answer as suddenly tears began filling her eyes. "Drakken's note."

"Where have you been!? Where are you? We looked for you for over a year!"

"Did that note... Was it real? What I saw on TV, did he really...try to kill himself?” she asked, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before digging her fingers tightly into her side as her hands started to shake. When had she started crying?

“Yes... He did.”

Shego’s throat tightened. “Have you...seen him, or talked to him?”

“Yeah, right after it happened, but...he doesn’t want to see anyone. He’s angry and embarrassed that it didn’t work. Shego—”

“Did he, I mean...how is he? Is he okay? How did he survive?”

“His vines. Their own sense of self-preservation must have kicked in, and they grabbed onto the building partway down. He’s in the hospital.”

Shego realized tears were streaming down her cheeks, and her hands were shaking so much it was hard to hold the phone. She closed it hard as she let her hands fall to the bar, and then she leaned forward again.

“Raquel! Mi lucecita, what is wrong?”

Shego took a breath and gathered her strength to push away, even as her vision swam. She left the phone on the bar, knowing exactly what would happen, and then reached across the smooth wooden surface for a bottle of tequila. She ignored Esteban's words as she numbly made her way to her room, climbing the stairs and pushing through the door to stumble against the bed, the bottle of alcohol falling from her grasp. She spun around, and after shoving the door closed she fell back to sit on her narrow, uncomfortable mattress as she fumbled with the lid of the tequila bottle.

She looked around at her walls, with their newspaper clippings and magazine cutouts of photos and articles about Drakken's successes. Tears fell from her eyes anew as she brought the bottle to her lips and soon felt her throat burn nearly as badly as her eyes. And the words of Drakken's note played through her mind repeatedly, her every thought and excuse for the past three years dissolving into torment.

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

The next morning a pulsing, booming sound caused her to wake, and as she sat up hurriedly with hands alight, the vision of red, purple, yellow, and black that swam before her eyes brought back to mind what she had drunk the bottle of tequila to forget. She let her glow die as she fell back on the bed and hid her face from the light with a pillow.

“Shego!” the astonished voice of Kim Possible resonated against her skull. She regretted the hangover, but she couldn’t have handled her thoughts the night before. Tequila had been the only choice.

“Are you all right? You don’t look so good,” the side-kick’s voice followed just as loud with concern.

“You’ve lost so much weight!” Kim continued.

“Yeah, what about it?” Shego said into the pillow, even her own voice painful to her ears.

“Is this where you’ve been all these years?”

“What have you been doing?”

Shego grit her teeth and ignored the questions of her former enemies-turned-allies after Drakken saved the world, finally moving the pillow to narrow her eyes at them.

“Will you take me to see Drakken, or not?” she asked bluntly.

The brows of both young adults rose, and they looked at each other.

“That’s the only reason I let you find me. Cell phone trace, right?” Shego said, grimacing against the throbbing in her head as she rolled over and got her feet on the floor.

“Yeah... It only took Wade—”

“Will you take me to see Drakken?”

“Yeah... I guess, sure. We can do that.”

“Good. Wait downstairs, I need to shower,” she said.

The two young heroes didn’t move, and Shego realized they were studying her walls with the photos and newspaper clippings of Drakken. But she was under too much stress already to worry about what two college kids thought of her. As she painfully stood, her eyes lighted upon a figure hovering in the doorway. Esteban was hanging back in the shadows, watching the interplay nervously.

Kim and Ron were still staring at the walls, and Shego first beckoned her employer into the room before frowning and sighing dramatically at the other two. They both looked at her.

“Haven’t you already read a lot of this stuff? Hurry up, I want to get to Japan before tomorrow.”

The pair gave her another once-over before glancing at each other and finally slipping through the door, giving an even more confused look at the curly-haired Latino who had been welcomed in. They closed the door behind the darker-skinned man as he looked curiously at the adorned walls which Shego had called home for three years. Finally, he sighed.

“You are going to him, then? This man, from the news report.”

Shego nodded, grateful for her boss’s softer tone.

“Yes,” she said.

“He is the reason you came here?”

She nodded again, sitting on the bed as her head pounded.

“...Why did you run from him?”

Shego’s brows knit together, but after all that Esteban had done for her over the years, she supposed it wouldn’t matter to give away a little more. Especially since she would never be seeing him again.

“I thought I was doing what was best for him,” she said with a shrug.

“But surely, if you were in love...? Was there some problem?”

Shego looked up, her brow twisting further in confusion.

“What... You think...he was in love with me too?” Her head was reeling again. That couldn’t have been what his note was about...could it? He had never showed any sign of having those types of feelings for her...

‘You never showed any of your feelings to him.’

She grimaced at that thought. And she wondered with a sickening feeling...had it really been necessary? All she’d done for three years was wallow in her own misery and loneliness and think of nothing but him. What if she had just...taken the risk?

“If the note on the news was real, then it would seem so,” Esteban had replied as she’d been thinking. She looked up again.

“Then I... I... I have to go.”

She stood again to get some fresh clothes and then paused, looking back at the suddenly long face of her boss.

“I hope you can find him. He will recover under your smile.”

Impulsively, Shego closed the distance between them and threw her arms around her boss’s neck. She felt his large palms hesitantly rest on her back.

“Thank you, Esteban...”

“Goodbye, Raquel.”

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

Shego raked her fingers through the ends of her hair for what must have been the tenth time just walking down the hall. As she found the correct door number she pushed her hair back over her shoulder, and then tugged down the simple green blouse and black jacket she wore. Possible had been right before... The garments weren’t fitting her as they should, but that was a concern for another day. She took a shallow breath and with a trembling hand, pushed the door inward.

The hospital room was dim and silent but for the beeping of monitors. On the bed, a familiar blue face lay atop a pillow, bandaged, like much of the rest of his body that could be seen. One forearm and foot were in casts, and his other arm was bandaged with the slightest of bloodstains showing through, like the one on the side of his face. She held her breath as she stepped in silently, as if walking into a dream. But he heard her.

The corners of his lips turned down before his eyes opened to slits, but then widened slightly upon seeing her. She hesitated only a moment before continuing her slow approach. She could see now the one side of his face was swollen, and his lower lip was split and bruised. She tried not to picture him falling from the top of a skyscraper, smashing against its sides on the way down only to be inexplicably rescued by his own mutation. Instead she fixated on his eyes that were bleary, shocked, and disbelieving.

“Shego?” he croaked out.

She fought the tears that tried to come to her eyes. “Yes. I... I’m here,” she managed, her throat tight.

He seemed to be studying her as she sat down on the edge of his bed, afraid her legs wouldn’t hold her and also needing to be nearer. The thought that he could have...that he very nearly died, and she didn’t even know...

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Her lips parted as she stared at his expression that was quickly becoming anxious, despite the haze in his eyes she was sure was in part due to the heavy painkillers that were doubtless coming through his IV line.

“What...?” she breathed.

“Whatever...I did...to make you leave...” Drakken said quietly, each word coming out labored through his dry throat. “I’m sorry. Please...forgive me.”

Shego didn’t bother trying to stop her tears anymore. She took a slow breath to try to calm the ache in her chest as she tore her eyes from his, instead looking at his hand lying on the bed, his knuckles bruised and scraped. She hesitated, but then gently held his hand in both of hers. His skin was clammy and cold, and she noted for the first time the too-slow beeping of the heart monitor.

“You...you didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, looking back at him. His confused and now fearful expression was a blur through her tears. “I did.”

“...What?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she repeated with more strength, recalling the words of his note. “I did. It was just me. I...I’m so sorry, Dr. D.”

Her voice rose on the last as her throat tightened, and she closed her eyes tightly as hot tears slid down her cheeks. She tried to keep her cries quiet, and some time later her attention was drawn back by his hand shifting in hers. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. He looked a bit more focused, and a familiar, analytical expression had joined the caution and confusion on his face.

“I don’t understand,” he finally said. His fingers curled around hers and held on firmly.

Her heart thudded against her ribs, and she let her gaze fall to her lap. She had already broken her promise to herself, to never see him again... But clearly, that had been a mistake from the beginning. If she was honest...then at least she would know, there was nothing else she could have done. And yet, the most important words she could say to him still died on her lips.

“I didn’t want to hold you back,” she said, staring down at their joined hands. She was careful not to hold too tight for his bruised knuckles. A long moment of silence passed before he spoke again.

“What...? But... Shego...”

“I didn’t want to be part of...this world,” she said, lifting one hand briefly to gesture weakly at the opulence of the hospital room. Not exactly what she meant, but she hoped the point would get across. “But I know you, Dr. D.... You...you wouldn’t have taken any of the jobs, without me. I just...wanted you to be happy. And I didn’t want any of this...”

There was another silence, broken only by her sniffling as she gradually brought her tears under control. She heard Drakken take a long breath in through his nose and then release it just as slowly.

“Thank you for visiting me...”

Shego turned abruptly, her tears stilling with a silent gasp. Drakken’s eyes were on their joined hands, and he looked sad.

“You look...” he began, glancing up at her briefly before his gaze fell again. “Hm. Where will— That is...”

He trailed off, glancing away toward the curtained window in the room with a slight grimace. Shego tried to follow his train of thought.

“I don’t...have to leave right away,” she ventured carefully. He looked back at her, his expression guarded. “We could...catch up for a while? If...if you...”

She broke off as tears threatened her eyes anew. Who was she kidding? His note had been clear...

‘I can’t live without her anymore.’

“If you...don’t mind having me around, I could stay...longer.” She set her hand back atop his, minding the scrapes on his knuckles. The pressure of his fingers against her palm hadn’t diminished.

Drakken’s swollen lips parted, his dark eyes seeming to glitter even brighter for the mottled bruising on his face. And then, a shadow came over his features.

“No, that’s...that’s all right. You can go back to...your life.”

Shego held her breath. She thought about telling him she knew about the note, but...what if that only made things worse? Then he would be embarrassed, and he had already...apparently given up on living. What would that new revelation do to him?

His words were also unknowingly meaningless, she realized, as because for the past three years she...had had no life. Only worrying and pining over him, waiting for the day he married so she would know he didn’t need her anymore, and then and only then could she come out of hiding. But she had left El Salvador behind fully when she had come to Japan. The bar was already out of her mind. All she wanted, and what she really needed, was...

She took a breath. “Drakken...”

When she met his eyes they were sad. She looked down again.

“I...I also left because...because I’m in love with you. But I knew...you didn’t feel the same. I knew you could find someone to replace me and...really fulfill you, and it seemed like...the best way I could give you everything you wanted...was to be out of the picture.”

She sniffled, bringing one hand up to wipe her eyes and nose before straightening up from the tense hunch she’d found herself in and then leaning back on her hand, the other still firmly gripping his. She didn’t want to hear his confirmation, but she needed to. Knowing that her feelings weren’t reciprocated would mean it was all worth it. Even though it didn’t explain his years of solitude...or the note. She didn’t want it to be about her. She couldn’t be the reason that he’d nearly—

“Everything I wanted? Shego...”

She cast a cautious eye on him, and he looked a mixture of confused, hurt, but somehow resolved. His hand suddenly left hers, and her throat constricted with the sudden loss. And then she was gasping in worry as Drakken started trying to push himself up.

“All I’ve ever wanted—” He stopped short with a hiss of pain, shaking as he paused halfway up.

“Dr. D....”

“...Is you.”

Her breath caught, and they stared at each other eye to eye. Drakken’s expression was steady but fearful, and her own she knew reflected utter shock. She was so startled she hadn’t even realized she’d spoken a response until he answered her.

“The note was about me...”

Drakken let out a soft, almost exasperated puff of air and lightly shook his head.

“What did I do to...make you think I didn’t love you?”

Shego blinked rapidly as tears filled her eyes.

“Oh, Dr. D.!”

Her arms were flung around him as her lips gently pressed against his, minding the cut and swelling. His least injured arm raised to wrap around her, but without the support his frame shook and he began to fall. Shego guided him down, never breaking the intimate contact. Her tears fell on his face as she cried through the kiss, but his hand pressing into her back strengthened her. She let her fingers move through his hair, ever so softly touching the swollen parts of his scalp as their lips barely moved. She was careful to keep her full weight off of him, but the warmth of their chests together was like a salve, beginning to mend the wounds in her heart.

When they finally parted and she opened her eyes, she found his just as wet.

“Shego...” he whispered hoarsely, and she heard a catch in his throat. “Don’t leave me.”

She held him tighter. “Don’t let me go.”

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

One month later, Shego was grinning happily as she pressed her face further into Drakken’s neck where they sat together on the sofa in his new apartment. She sighed contently as she snuggled closer into his left side, her arms around his neck and her legs folded and halfway over his lap.

“Shego...” Drakken whispered, “this isn’t exactly...it’s not...”

“Mmmh, let everyone see how much I love you...” she murmured, turning to face the camera placed in front of them, the magazine photographer looking at them quizzically as she offered something between a smile and smirk. The interviewer stood close by, equally ill at ease, but Shego didn’t care.

She positioned her hand on Drakken’s shoulder so the diamond of her engagement ring sparkled in the light. Her heart warmed when his healed left hand reached up to hold hers, and she laced the fingers of her right hand through his, setting her left on top again to show off the ring. She tilted her chin up toward him and was rewarded with his radiant smile.

“I love you...” she said softly, “and I want to spend the rest of my life telling you.”

“I love you, Shego,” he breathed.

Their lips met in a gentle, ardent kiss. Beyond them, after a long minute, the camera flashed.

22 notes · View notes

ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! :D I thought I wanna try my luck with requesting, as the first thing I do every morning is checking Tumblr for new updates from you! I know it might have its flaws, but overall, I hope it’s okay, do-able and not too confusing! - Jaskier and Y/N are old friends/acquaintances and whenever he visits them, he raves about his travels with Geralt and dream of visiting the coast someday. Over time, this makes Y/N really sad, as they suddenly can’t get near the coast, up into mountains [1/2]

or into the woods without getting really sick, so they stay safely at home. Jaskier doesn’t like them hurt and asks Geralt for help. Long story short: During one of their travels they met a sorceress who fell in love with Jaskier, but saw that he was hopelessly in love with Y/N (he thinks it’s an unrequired love) and out of jealousy and spite the sorceress cursed Y/N, so that they may never (again) accompany him while he does what he loves. I have no idea for the ending though, sorry! [2/2]

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 1,526Rating: GTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract @your-not-invisible-to-me @kemmastan a/n: I hope this is close to what you were picturing and that you like the ending I gave it! Thanks!

“Do you think I should buy a horse? I’ve given up on Geralt ever letting me ride Roach unless I am literally at death’s door, and I’ve learned that mountains are hell on foot,” Jaskier said as he stared idly at a horse being auctioned.

“I think it may be cheaper to get a more suitable set of boots,” you said, eyeing the fashionable but not very sturdy pair he wore today. Jaskier glanced down and then back up at you with a perplexed expression.

“The aesthetic, Y/N,” he said simply but then, “Well, perhaps you’re right. What would you do?”

The smile on your face fell away before Jaskier could think about the words he’d said, already regretting them. You turned and suddenly became very interested in a rusty dagger that was being sold as “antique.”

“I don’t think it really matters what I would do. Would’ve done,” you corrected.

There was a time when these supply shopping expeditions were for you as much as Jaskier, but that was back when you could go with them. Now if you left the boundaries of your town you grew ill, a fever striking you suddenly and a great dizzy spell. You’d tried to push past it but you’d begun to cough up blood. Once back home the symptoms ebbed away before a healer could be brought.

“It may again one day,” Jaskier said, reaching out to take your hand, squeezing it encouragingly, “Geralt told me that he’d investigate the issue. He’s reached out to Triss and she may have answers for us yet!”

“But what if the answer is that this is just how life is for me now?” you asked, voicing the fears you’d been holding quietly inside for months.

“Well… I just simply refuse to believe it!” Jaskier insisted, jutting his chin out defiantly. You smiled faintly at his determination and turned back to the horses.

“If you do get one, it won’t be one of those,” you remarked, “It has a bad temperament. I can tell.”

“So does Geralt but I manage with him alright,” Jaskier joked.

“Hmm.”

Both of you jumped from the sound behind you and you found Geralt scowling at Jaskier, arms crossed in front of him. Though he glared you could see a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Geralt! We were just talking about you!” Jaskier exclaimed.

“Mmhmm.”

“Geralt, have you heard from Triss?” you asked, more excited that you wanted to be. You tried to keep your hopes from getting too high but you wanted so desperately to find a cure. Jaskier had been talking more about the coast recently, his dream vacation, and you wanted to go with him and see his face light up as he stepped foot in the ocean.

“Let’s talk,” Geralt said and then walked off towards your usual tavern, Jaskier and you following behind.

—–

“Who?”

“Gwynen Trostt,” Geralt repeated. Jaskier’s brow furrowed as he thought hard, trying to conjure a face that matched with the name but coming up empty.

“I simply don’t remember her, Geralt, but what on earth would she have against Y/N?” Jaskier asked. Geralt glanced at your anxious face and back to Jaskier’s confused one, trying to decide how to phrase this delicately. This was never his strong suit. He’d tried to convince Triss to come back with him to explain but she’d refused, stating she had no desire in meddling with these matters. Magic was one thing, love was a different beast altogether.

“It appears she recognized some… affection you held for Y/N and grew jealous,” Geralt said. Jaskier paled slightly as you scoffed.

“But that’s ridiculous! Jaskier isn’t in love with me!” you exclaimed. Jaskier could feel Geralt’s eyes on him and moments later, yours as well. He knew he could deny it but he’d already taken too long to speak.

“What of it?” he asked defiantly. Geralt sighed and Jaskier could hear his judgment but as far as Jaskier was concerned, Geralt had no room to talk about the ways someone shared their emotions.

“She’s cursed,” Geralt said simply. He’d planned on breaking the news slowly and carefully but you were still so stunned by Jaskier’s casual declaration of love he counted on it hardly glancing off of you. He’d counted right.

“What are the parameters of the curse? She can’t go places now?” Jaskier asked.

“Hmm,” Geralt confirmed. He glanced over to see how you were taking it but you still stared at Jaskier.

“You… hold affection for me?” you said finally, unable to make your mouth for the much shorter word.

Geralt rose from the table and walked away towards the bar, leaving you and Jaskier alone at the little table, facing each other.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, perhaps I should have told you sooner, perhaps never at all… I had no idea this would cause you pain. In fact that’s exactly what I was trying to avoid,” Jaskier said.

“Are you daft?” you asked. Jaskier’s pale blue eyes filled with hurt and you shook your head.

“Jaskier, no, I’m not… I’m not upset that you…” your voice trailed off, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

“Love…”

“Love me, gods no how could I? That’s the best thing I ever heard!” you exclaimed.

“But you’re trapped because of it,” Jaskier argued, “And- wait, sorry, does that mean you love me too?”

You opened your mouth to reply but couldn’t find any words that would do your feelings justice so instead you closed the distance between you and pressed your lips against his. His arms wrapped around you and he moved into the kiss, deepening it. You pulled back and gave him a small smile.

“Does that answer your question?” you asked.

“Hmm…. No. I think I need a repeat,” he replied. You rolled your eyes and moved in but suddenly you felt the strangest sensation. You paused, resting your hand on the table and Jaskier watched you with concern.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I just feel… I don’t know how to describe it. I feel off,” you said.

“Oh gods it’s the curse isn’t it? Geralt? Geralt!�� Jaskier cried. The witcher snapped his attention back to them and ran over as quickly as he could despite you trying to wave him away.

“No I’m fine I’m not hurt or anything I just…,” your eyes rose to Jaskier’s, a solemn but intent look in your eyes, “I need to leave this town right now.”

Before Jaskier could respond you had risen and were hurrying out the door. The two men looked at each other in confusion for a moment and then scrambled after you.

“Y/N what are you doing?” Jaskier cried.

“Just trust me,” you called over your shoulder.

“But the curse!”

Geralt ran out in front of you and you shared a silent look. Jaskier had almost caught up with the two of you but saw Geralt nod once before whistling for Roach.

“Gods, thank you Geralt, alright back we go,” Jaskier said, taking your arm as Roach rode up. Jaskier had turned back towards the inn when he felt your arm be pulled out of his and spun to find you on Roach’s back behind Geralt.

“What in the gods’ name are you doing?” Jaskier cried.

“Just trust me,” you repeated. Roach took off and Jaskier ran behind. He fell farther and farther behind but never stopped, following the sound of hoofbeats, knowing exactly where you were going, fear fueling his steps to move faster than they ever had before. By the time he caught up with you he found you standing in the road, Geralt beside you.

“Jaskier,” you said, looking back at him, happy tears shining in your eyes, “Look.”

You took a step back over the line dividing the town and the rest of the world and Jaskier watched with bated breath for… anything.

“You feel alright?” he asked, moving towards you. You nodded in reply.

“I want to go farther,” you said, “Come.”

You held out a hand and he moved to take it, exchanging a worried glance with Geralt. You and Jaskier walked hand in hand, going nowhere in particular. Jaskier continued to look back nervously as they moved farther and farther away from the boundaries of the town but finally when it was no longer in sight and you still smiled at him, symptomless, he pulled you in for a happy embrace.

“How?” he breathed, “I don’t really care how but… how?”

“True love’s first kiss,” Geralt’s voice came, leading Roach with him.

“Of course,” Jaskier said with a little laugh, “Gods how stupid I’ve been.”

“Not stupid, just… uncharacteristically cautious,” you said.

“Well let that be a lesson to me. From now on Jaskier de Lettenhove throws caution to the wind!” Jaskier declared.

“Hmm.”

“So,” you said, “Where to now?”

“Well the hunt is-”

“The coast,” Geralt said. Jaskier’s eyes widened in surprise as he looked at the witcher.

“What?”

“The coast,” Geralt repeated. He began to ride off, offering no further explanation or direction, and you took Jaskier’s hand in yours, pulling his attention back to you.

“Let’s go, Jaskier, adventure is waiting.”

#Anonymous #jaskier x reader #jaskier imagines #jaskier drabble #jaskier fluff #reader request

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5-secondsofcolor · 5 years ago

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False Start || M.C.

Summary: little Michael Clifford angst based on Rusty Clayton’s song, False Start.

Warning: none.

“What if I asked you to stay?” Michael asks the all important question. He already knows the answer but he couldn't leave it hanging.

“I could ask you the same thing,” She responds pushing up from the dining table.

As their time together has slowly come to a close, Michael notices how her silences are longer, her touches shorter. Today’s been the worst day yet, as they both brace themselves for the inevitable conversation. This visit was supposed to fix things. An unspoken Hail Mary to help move them out of their funk. Instead it’s just reminded them of how far they’ve drifted.

He can see the exhaustion in her eyes. She's trying to find a way to make it work, to fight the clock, but time’s up. She goes home tomorrow and, soon, he goes back on tour; each carrying in with their own lives. Neither of them have the least idea when they’ll be able to visit with each other, nonetheless, find a common ground again.

She puts her head in her hands. Exhausted, she takes off her glasses and tosses them onto the nightstand before she lays down. There’s no use wearing them, as frustrated tears begin to break down her face.

He lays beside her, just close enough to be in focus. Voice barely above a whisper, he mutters, “I’m so sorry.”

Cupping her face his gives her a kiss unlike any of the ones he’s every given her. It’s familiar but this one’s steeped with sorrow. There’s no rushing tonight, just a silent understanding that tonight will be their last night. Four hands and then away.

—

Waking up next to him is comfortable until memories of last come flooding back in. All at once she feels a lump in her throat and his comforting smell makes her stomach turn; soon it will become another part of him to miss. Tears prickle in her eyes as she stifles her first sobs.

They’re through. It's a false start but neither of them could leave last night. The love is there but never right and now it makes it hurt all the more. She spends hours trying to read his calloused hands and pray to find something to soften the blows. She finds nothing. Just the heart on his sleeve. The thing that brought them both together. The man doing his best, same as her. The man who deserves the world but she can only give so much.

His eyelids flutter open and he doesn't have the heart to face her. He burrows his face in her neck wishing they could make moments like this enough. She loves L.A but could never stay and, that's what he needs, someone to stay.

There would be no grand argument to end it all. No war fought between the two. Today there would be no victors. There would be nothing but tears and a silent drive to the airport, Michael insistent on dropping her off. She'll take her final flight home and not step foot in the city for years to come.

“Hopefully someday you won't have to wait,” She whispers giving him one final kiss at her gate.

---

“Should I text him?” Y/N asks again, chewing on her thumb.

She hadn't torn into her fingernails so badly in years but, in the time leading up to her trip, she couldn't stop. It had been years since she'd set foot in L.A. and now the idea alone made her stomach flip. She's wanted to text Michael from the moment she bought her plane tickets. They hadn't spoken too much since breaking up but he still updates her when he got a new number.

“Fuck it,” She says sending out a message and tossing her phone away from her as if it were a snake.

“What you got there, mate?” Calum asks a concerned look on his face. Michael looking positively pale. Eyes not wavering from his phone.

Michael stares as if he's seen a ghost and in a way he has. Y/N. The one that got away casually asking if he had free time after two years of near radio silence.

“You remember Y/N?”

“I remember that breakup.” Calum says lips pressed into a thin line. It had been a rough one for Michael. There are no ill feeling towards her. Everyone understanding that no one was at fault. Instead of making it easier though it complicated things. Gave nowhere for the anger and sadness that Michael felt. It took weeks to get him anywhere other than at home or the studio.

“She's texted me. Asking if I want to get together while she's in town.”

Calum nods his head, fighting to keep a neutral disposition before asking, “Do you want to see her?”

“Yes…” Calum can see the gears in Michael’s head turning as he goes through scenario after scenario of seeing her again.

“Yes but?” Calum asks waiting for Calum to continue.

“What if she’s different? What if-- if its not genuine?” Michael asks eyes full of fear as he searches Calum’s face hoping to find some sort of answer, a way out of the mess.

“If she was playing games she would've strung you along years ago. She’d have used all those pictures she had. I'm not telling you to go but don't let fear dictate what you do.”

Friday. He has time Friday. Four days, hopefully her fingernails could hold on. She's not too sure why it's so stressful, she's seen an ex before but this one is different. She can feel it in her bones that he's different.

She’s first to the restaurant, waiting outside she takes in the surroundings. He's chosen a tiny place near the beach. She's grateful for the chance to sit in the brisk ocean air while she tries to keep calm. Staring over the ocean, her nerves steady until she checks her phone, “Just parked. Walking up now”

Michaels own stomach flips when he sees her waiting. She's not too different from the same woman who left his apartment all those years ago. Her hair is now back to her natural black, draping over her shoulder in soft waves and curls. He's happy to see she's embraced it after all the years of straightening it out. Her brown skin glows softly, her skin always shone best under the California sun.

“Twinsies,” She jokes when she sees him in jeans and a flannel as well. She feels herself relax as Michael cracks the smallest smile too. She's surprised when he wraps her into a hug. She still fits under his chin just right with her head tucked into his chest. She can't help but smile when he squeezes her tightly. Too familiar to feel awkward, neither is ready to let go when he pulls back.

“Look at you! Those years have done you some good.” She says cupping his face gently for a quick moment.

“You look great too.” He says with a small smile. They get seated outside in a remote part of the patio and order drinks while mulling over the menu.

“Oh can someone legally drink now?” She teases gently. Only a few months older than Michael she'd never let him live it down that she could drink before he could.

It feels silly, to have stressed so long once they’re together. Hours roll by as they spend dinner catching up. She's finished college after a few times restarting it; life never too kind to her schedule, Michael’s proud she stuck it through in her own way. She talks about the little accomplishments, how she completed a small portion of her bucket list. He's gone on tour, seen more of the world, and added two more album to their collection. She's seen it from the outside but hearing it from him made her heart feel full.

Neither of them wanting to leave, instead deciding to walk to piers together. He remembers why he enjoyed her company so much. A wonderful friend, all his favorite places felt like her; comfortable, familiar.

“What if I— what if I tell you I’m here for interviews. That I’m thinking of staying. Here, in LA,” she says, feeling her heart practically beating out of her chest. It was hard to keep grounded but she fought her every emotion to keep a realistic mindset.

“I’d have to ask when you’re free for dinner again.”

#michael clifford #mc #michael clifford imagine #michael clifford blurb #michael clifford fic #michael clifford fan fiction #5sos blurb #5sos fan fiction #ashton irwin #calum hood #calum hood blurb #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer blurb #my writing #blurb

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backtothestart02 · 7 years ago

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Amidst the Shaded Trees - 3/4

The next update to my Ryder & Jade/Into the Badlands fic for Day 5 (Day 4 will come someday... it’s complicated lol) - Canon-Verse WIP - of WIP week hosted by @wipweek.

Beta’d by the lovely @valeriemperez

Enjoy!

Chapter 3 -

The first time he walked into her new room, she was standing before the vanity, eyes dull, lips faintly quivering, and skin pale as ice. But all Ryder felt was a building anger.

“Quite the upgrade.”

Jade’s gaze found his in the mirror, and she gasped.

“Ryder.” She spun around, eyes wide, and found herself rendered speechless.

He stared at her in disbelief. In all the years he’d known her - even in the last near decade where their interactions had become more secretive, less easy to come by - he’d never thought she’d end up here. In the bedroom of the next wife of Quinn, Armadillo Baron of the Badlands.

He’d absolutely refused to believe it.

But he was that way about a lot of things he didn’t like to hear or accept. Practically everything.

“You have to understand—”

“Save it, Jade,” he scoffed and turned away from her, oblivious to the tear rolling down her cheek. “Or should I call you…Mom?”

“Don’t.”

The hitch in her voice made him turn to face her, weakened him a little. Because he saw the tears streaming down her cheeks. She was hurting. He was hurting her. And he’d never in his life wanted to hurt her until he saw her seated beside his father at the breakfast table as Quinn announced she was to be his new bride.

She took a breath and approached him now. He didn’t back up. His eyes were glued to hers, his body tense as she reached for him and then retreated just before their skin made contact.

“You know I had no choice, Ryder.” Her voice hitched again. “You know if Quinn says he wants something, he gets it, and anyone who tries to say otherwise is damned. I would’ve been banished. I would’ve had nowhere else to go.” She paused, telling herself to breathe, to get a hold of herself, to stop crying for one second. “I would’ve never seen you again.”

Ryder closed his eyes briefly, letting her words wash over him. Especially that last part. She ached for him just as deeply, as passionately as he ached for her. It didn’t soothe his anger. If anything, it only intensified it. But he knew now he was directing it at the wrong person.

“Were you even going to tell me?” he whispered, trying to make his voice soft but coming out rough and demanding instead.

She swallowed hard, and this time her wandering, hesitant hand did grasp his. Relieved that he didn’t instantly yank himself free, Jade took another step closer and took his other hand in her other too. Then, without looking at him, she brought their hands to her face and rested one cheek upon his.

The vulnerability in her overwhelmed him and he found himself pulling her close, wrapping his arms around her and feeling the swell in his chest when she nuzzled into the rich fabric of his shirt.

“You told me not to tell you anything that had to do with me and your father,” she replied with the voice of an angel. “I was honoring your wishes, Ryder.” She paused and licked her lips. “Besides, you would’ve silenced me before I had a chance to really say anything, and you know it.”

She was right. He did know it. He had only himself to blame for not knowing sooner. He and his refusal to acknowledge the nightmare unfolding before him had sufficiently kept him in the dark, completely blindsiding him when the truth was forced upon him right there at the breakfast table.

“Silenced you with kisses,” he corrected, to which Jade lifted her head and matched the suggestive smirk now present on his face.

“That is your specialty,” she said, her eyes dropping to his lips.

He groaned. “Jade.”

Then his lips descended on hers and their current predicament was lost to the warm sensuality they wrapped around each other. Soon after though, footsteps sounded down the hallway. They probably just belonged to a cog, but the uncertainty of it was enough to make Jade tense up and break apart from Ryder and his tantalizing kisses.

“What is it?” he complained, his voice a notch louder than Jade would’ve wished. She placed two fingers on his lips, ignoring when he kissed them, and turned her head towards the door to try and hear if the footsteps were slowing as they neared her room or maintaining their pace further down the hall.

They continued, but she was wary now of everything.

“What?” he asked, softer this time. He searched her eyes when she looked back at him, worry and vulnerability coloring them. She was the only one who could pull that emotion from him, and she hardly even tried. “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” he asked, starting to detach from her.

“No.” He tried to untangle himself from her, but she tightened her grip on him. “No,” she insisted. He sighed. “Not embarrassed, Ryder.” She swallowed hard. “I’m scared. For both of us.”

He shook his head, brushing his fingers along the graceful line of her neck, about to reassure her before she continued with words he’d been dreading since the night Quinn had fallen ill and Jade had tended to him.

“I think we should stop seeing each other.”

His eyes narrowed, and he dropped his hands from her. She let him.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? To rise in station? To marry my father? To leave me in the dust?”

“Ryder, how can you say that? I love you.”

He scoffed.

“I never wanted this. I didn’t ask for this.”

“So, you’d rather be in the fields, working all day until your hands blister? Instead of living in luxury with the silk cloth on your skin and cogs – which is what you used to be – waiting on you for your every desire?”

“I would rather live as your wife, but I was not given that choice.”

He tensed, wanting to be angry, but it was hard to do with her. He didn’t have the courage to confront his father about this, so he couldn’t direct his anger at the correct person. It wouldn’t matter though. Quinn would laugh in his face.

She closed the distance between them again, took his hands, kissed each finger reverently, and sighed.

“You kiss my hands until they don’t hurt anymore. You bandage them when they’re bleeding.” She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “You don’t do that with anyone else. You don’t lift a finger to help a single soul, but you do it with me. I don’t think it’s out of pity.”

He caved, crumbling in front of her, pain and adoration seeping out of his eyes as he looked down at her.

“Because I love you, Jade,” he rasped. “Ever since we were children and you snuck into my room at night to give me the bread I’d been refused at dinner just because my father wanted to see how strong I was, how long I could endure without food. Even my mother couldn’t dissuade him from starving her own son.”

“You were my friend, and you were eight years old. I couldn’t let you starve.” She smiled softly, and he returned the gesture. “But there’s something I didn’t tell you about that night.”

His brows furrowed.

“I saw your mom in the hall after I left. She had brought you food too.”

“The piece of bread under my pillow the next morning,” he recalled.

She nodded and smiled.

“I took credit for it because you gave it to me the next time we played, but it wasn’t me.”

He shook his head. “Always trying to take advantage of the situation and get the higher ground.”

She half-laughed, but his smile faded and hers did too. Wasn’t she ‘taking advantage’ of the situation now? No, she very honestly told herself. She was just trying to survive. And Quinn would ask – before banishing her – the reason for her refusal. He would know it was about Ryder even if she said otherwise. She couldn’t let herself believe he suspected nothing.

“We can’t see each other anymore, Ryder,” she said, her voice exquisitely gentle. “I…I couldn’t stand if you got hurt because of me. It would break me.”

“And what about you?” he countered, though his voice wasn’t as rough as it had been earlier.

She swallowed hard, knowing he wouldn’t like what came next.

“Quinn will be good to me. You know he will.”

“And the two of you will…” he couldn’t finish. Jade closed her eyes, because she knew what he was thinking. “Have you already…?”

“No,” she said instantly, her eyes flashing open. But then she hesitated. “Not yet,” she corrected herself. “But probably soon. Tonight maybe.”

Ryder kept himself in check just barely when he saw how she flinched.

“Will you come to me afterwards?” he asked.

“Ryder.” Her eyes widened.

“He won’t expect you to stay the whole night. He didn’t with Beatrix, not at first.”

“You’d really want to… After I’ve… With your father?” She was bewildered. She knew he loved her, but after his father had touched her so intimately…? She had imagined he’d be too disgusted to even have her near him. At least that same night.

“We don’t have to…do anything.” He soothingly ran his hands up and down her arms, as if she was the one who would be opposed. “I just…” he sighed. “I just want to be with you.”

She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his cheek, relaxing into his embrace.

“Alright, Ryder.” She sighed softly. “When it’s over, if he lets me go, I will come to you.”

It wasn’t enough by a long stretch, but at least he still had some part of her. His father couldn’t satisfy her, and she would never love him. If Ryder worked hard enough, maybe he could convince her to stay with him in secret. She was the only thing that kept him sane under the roof of a tyrant who treated his son as if he was nothing, would amount to nothing, and that there was no pretending otherwise.

He couldn’t lose her. If he lost Jade, he lost everything.

*Also available on AO3 and FFnet.

#wip week #itbedit #ryjaedit #backtothestart02 fanfiction #ryja #into the badlands #amidst the shaded trees #pre series #so kinda canon lol #chapter 3

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bella346310068-blog · 7 years ago

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Royal Shakespeare Firm.

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bcbdrums · 4 years ago

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Immolation

I’m heavily depressed, so you get heavy angst. This is a direct sequel to “Torment”

FFn AO3

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

Immolation

"Venga, chica. Bailar conmigo."

Shego stepped back from the strong scent of alcohol and scowled at the man, a regular at the establishment, but one who never quite took the hint. Especially not when he had had too many.

"Raquel?" came the accented voice of Esteban, her boss and the owner of the place, from across the room where he was wiping down tables and stacking chairs for closing.

She was pathetic.

'Shego' was gone.

"Ai ai ai, Raquel! Someday I will see how you accomplish that."

Why hadn't he met someone and settled down already?

"...It has been confirmed to have been a suicide now, as the note was leaked to the press by a source who wishes to remain anonymous from within Japanese Intelligence..."

"And the world remains in shock, one week from the date the acclaimed scientist took his life by jumping from the roof of the Osaka World Trade Center. We will keep you updated with more details as the story continues to unfold. This is Paola Ramos, reporting."

Shego's eyes fell back to the wood grain of the bar, dotted now with rainbow lights as she replayed the words over and over in her mind.

Dead? Suicide?

It couldn't be true... And if for an entire week, why hadn't she heard anything yet?

And worse... What had his...his suicide note, meant?

"I can't live without her anymore," it had read.

He couldn't... He didn't... He wouldn't...mean me?

Shego felt like she might throw up, and she let herself sink to the floor behind the bar until her cheek was pressed down against the cool tiles of the filthy floor.

He can't be dead... He can't.

She lay there, her breaths coming too quickly, until a voice broke through her racing, panicked thoughts.

"Raquel! ¿Qué pasa?"

She peered upward and let Esteban take her hand and help her to a seated position.

"Phone..." she managed to choke out, her throat strangely tight.

"What? But what has happened?"

"Phone..." she said, and started slowly crawling around the bar, her vision still swimming. She couldn't use Esteban's phone... But, the man she had dropped earlier...

She found the unconscious man and with hardly a grimace she fumbled in his pockets until finding his mobile phone, and then leaned back against the bar as she began dialing a long-memorized number. She realized as the phone rang that she didn't know if the number would be the same after so long, but that thought was broken by Esteban kneeling in front of her.

"Are you calling 911?" he asked, his dark eyes wide and worried as he studied her frantically. But then, the phone connected.

"Hello?" the familiar voice said through the line.

Shego suddenly realized, she had only ever called the girl 'Princess' or 'Pumpkin' or 'Kimmie,' and wasn't sure how to address the now young woman and for a brief time, ally.

"Kim..." she finally settled on, the name leaving her throat hoarsely.

"Yes? Who is...?" A familiar gasp sounded through the phone. "Shego?"

"Drakken..." was her one-word answer as suddenly tears began filling her eyes. "Drakken's note."

"Where have you been!? Where are you? We looked for you for over a year!"

"Did that note... Was it real? Is he...is he really...dead?" she asked, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before digging her fingers tightly into her side as her hands started to shake.

"...Yes," Kim answered with a sigh, "he's gone."

Shego felt even more of the world around her fall away somehow. She could still see Esteban's scuffed tennis shoes and his knees where he knelt in front of her, and she could even see the leg of the collapsed man on her other side. But it was all through a dizzying haze.

"The note I heard them read on the news. Did he...did he mean me?"

"...Of course he did. Shego, are you okay? Where you have you been?"

"No..." Shego breathed, even as she lowered the phone from her ear despite Kim's continued questions. She almost forgot herself and ignited her hand, but instead she flipped the phone closed and dropped it on the ground.

Esteban helped her to her feet again, and he let out a small yelp of surprise as her heel came down hard on the phone.

"Ai, Raquel! What if he finds out?" he said worriedly, looking at the unconscious drunkard.

Shego didn't answer as she leaned on the bar and continued grinding the phone down to nothing, and then with her vision still dotted with color she stumbled back behind the bar. Her shaking hands reached out to familiar places until she found bottles of tequila, and then with four clutched in her arms she turned to head toward the stairs and her small rented room.

"Ai, Raquel, that is too much! That is too much!"

Shego ignored Esteban's words as she moved numbly to her room, pushing through the door and stumbling against the bed, all but one of the bottles of alcohol falling from her grasp. She spun around, and after shoving the door closed she melted the lock with her glow. Then she fell back to sit on her narrow, uncomfortable mattress as she fumbled with the lid of the tequila bottle.

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

The next day, Esteban stood nervously outside the door that Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable were breaking into, explaining about the night before and the bizarre behavior from his employee. Of course, Shego's destruction of the mobile phone hadn't been quick enough to block Wade Load's trace.

When the trio finally pushed the door open, three pairs of worried eyes went wide before the faces fell to sadness and horror.

"Aaiiii, Raquel, ¿por qué? ¿Por qué, mi lucecita, por qué?"

Kim's eyes lit upon the one piece of paper not tacked to the walls, having fallen from the bed where it had previously been held in the occupant's hand. Her breath caught as she picked it up and together the trio read the sloppily scrawled words, the bartender sobbing over the shoulders of the two younger people.

"I didn't want to hold him back. I just wanted him to be happy."

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

"...And broadcasting live from Osaka Prefecture, a tragic tale of unrequited love as we bring you the public funeral of acclaimed world heroes, Dr. Drakken and Shego."

16 notes · View notes