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mintelepathy · 2 years

Text

“Keep it, it looks better on you anyway”

brother's best friend jungkook

genre: fluff and some sexual tension from jungkook riding a motorcycle

word count: 1.2k

summary: a night out with your friends goes wrong and your brother's bestfriend ends up giving you a ride on his motorcycle

part 2

mlist

Come to the party, it'll be fun, your best friend said almost three hours ago. Maybe that could have been the case if it wasn't for the fact that you lost said friend the second you went through the door, were left alone for thirty minutes until the police showed up, so now you were trying to run away and hide from the authorities because the last thing you need right now is being taken to the police station.

To make things worse, you had no idea where you were, there is no sight of anyone who can give you a ride. It seems like everyone else just vanished, and your phone is nowhere to be found, just great.

You have been walking for about ten minutes when you heard someone with a motorbike approaching and slowing down to keep your pace at a safe distance.

“Hey _!” someone shouted your name and you turned your head to the familiar voice at your side.

“Jungkook?” you asked confused because you couldn’t see him well with the helmet on.

He made his way towards you, stopped in front of your now stilled body, took off his helmet, and yes, there he was.

Jungkook is no stranger to you, but you wouldn’t consider him a close friend either, he is your brother’s best friend so you are used to seeing him at your brother’s when you go visit him, which is quite often since you have a loving sister and older brother’s relationship with him. You two were inseparable as kids but then years passed, and you moved to Seattle for your studies while he stayed in Preston, where you grew up.

But back to Jungkook, you can’t deny the man’s beauty, you may even admit you had a little crush on him when you met him four years ago, but then you realized you had zero chance when your brother mentioned that he had a girlfriend. A girlfriend you never met though.

As far as you knew Jungkook was still living in Preston too, so what was he doing there?

“The one and only,” he said as he gave you one of his close-mouthed smiles. Damn, how can someone be so hot and cute at the same time? Ok, shut up conscience.

“What are you doing here?” you asked him as you smile at him too, seems like it is contagious.

“I live here” he might have noticed the confusion on your face because then he added, “We are in Preston _”

“No way! seriously?” you asked him while moving your head like crazy trying to understand why you didn’t find the place familiar since you grew up there, “Well, that explains why it took us a while to get here, I swear I’m not drunk I just didn’t pay attention in our way here”

“Believe me, I know you are not drunk” he let out a cute chuckle, “come here, let’s get out of here” he said as he motioned you to get behind him on the motorbike.

You doubted for a second because you had so many questions, but it was a late and cold night, and honestly, you wouldn’t mind the company and the free ride.

“Put this on, you’ll need it” he said as he took off his jacket and handed it to you, “this too” then he handed his helmet.

“Oh no, you need it” he had already given you his jacket and now he wants to give you the only helmet he has, maybe it is the bare minimum but these little details really warm your heart.

“Just take it, please” the expression on his face said it all, there was no way he would let you go on a ride without the helmet, so it was useless to fight him.

You put the helmet on, and tried to clip it but you just couldn’t.

You were just embarrassing yourself at this point.

“Let me” he gently moved your hair out of the way and helped you.

For some reason, you couldn’t take your eyes off his face while he clipped the helmet for you. Ok, you admit it, maybe you still have a little crush on him, “Ready, hop on now and hold on tight” He didn’t have to ask you twice, you would do anything the man said, if something was sure it was that you could trust a hundred percent in him.

You hopped on the motorbike, and hold him hesitantly by the waist. He didn’t say anything, he just grabbed your hands and place them well around his waist, your torso completely pressed to his back.

Your heart might have just jumped a little.

“Don’t let go, ok?” you just nodded.

He turned the engine on and started riding. You had no idea where he was going but you couldn’t care less.

It was your first time on a motorbike and you would have never thought how much you’ll love the feeling of being in one, twenty-five minutes passed, maybe thirty, you had no idea, but you didn’t want him to stop. The cold air hitting your body had never felt better.

You noticed where you were once you felt him slow down, you were in Seattle.

Jungkook had just ridden all the way just to bring you home.

“I’m gonna need you to be my GPS now _” he said as he placed one of his hands on top of yours, “your hands are freezing”

“I don’t really feel them so it’s okay” you joked and you felt his torso move as he laughed, keeping his hand there and just removing it when necessary.

You guided him to your apartment and arrived in five minutes. You still couldn’t believe he had just brought you home from Preston.

He stopped the motorbike and you both hopped off carefully.

He gestured for you to get closer and help you again with the helmet.

“This is insane, you just wasted like forty minutes of your time just to bring me home, I don’t even know what time is it, probably really late, so thank you” you gave him a quick hug, “Oh take this”

He stopped you the moment you started taking his jacket off, “Keep it, it looks better on you anyway”

What’s that sudden heat in your cheeks? Were you blushing? Oh please, no.

You gave a few steps back as you bite your lip unconsciously.

“So, do you have to go anywhere else now?” you asked him, not wanting him to leave.

“Nowhere specifically, probably find a gas station first if I’ll go back home” you watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed hard. Was he nervous? Why would he be nervous? you asked yourself.

You can’t believe you are about to ask him these, geez he has a girlfriend, you and your impulsive thoughts, “Do you- Do you want to stay the night? It’s late and you are probably tired, it was a long ride and it’s cold. We could drink some hot coffee if you want”

Oh no, you didn’t like that look on his face.

Jungkook hesitated for a second, not because he didn’t want to stay, but because he remembered a little detail, he likes you, and you are his best friend’s sister, what would he think if he knew that he spent the night with you?

He noticed the worry on your face and before you could say anything he thought fuck it, “Yeah, sure, if you don’t mind”

If he only knew…

♡

I'm thinking of making a second part for this so let me know what you think yay (and if you want to be tagged)

Ooookkk, it's been so long since I logged in on this account and I'm back, I realized today how much I missed it so you'll probably see me posting more often😊

A like or reblog is always appreciated<3

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mamamittens · 1 year

Note

Hi hi! It's me! So I heard about your date night. Was hoping I could make a request. If it's not too much trouble, could I get a chocolate toffee... candy corn with.... an alcohol. A shot of hot damn and Pink shnapps for Portgas D. Ace and a shot of White Russian for myself. I'm F! With short dark brown hair, brown eyes, and semi-tan skin, I prefer to dress in Lolita (I don't currently have the money but if I could do Lolita in the date night I would appreciate it). I'd really like to go by Astra. I'm pretty chill but I enjoy light teasing banter, when I'm nervous I tend to laugh slightly and fidget, I also have a tendency to be kind of flirty, sometimes without meaning to which then sometimes makes me nervous cause I'm afraid of their reaction.

P.s. no pressure but if possible could you post it on the 12th? That's my birthday. You don't have to, just, you know, if you’re not overwhelmed or anything. I turn 32!

Happy birthday! Hopefully it’s actually the 12th for you too, lol.

Hope you have fun on your date~

Date Night Event!

Warnings: One sided enemies to lovers (Ace still has issues about himself even in a modern AU), lap ride, praise kink (pretty boy and pretty baby used most often), submissive Ace, couch sex, and creampie.

Word Count: 2,594

There was something to be said about taking bets he could ill-afford to lose.

Ace scowled at the little white house from atop his motorcycle. He didn’t want to do this at all. He had no idea why his brother thought this was a good idea—no actually, he knew that Sabo thought it would be funny. Hardly a good idea though. From day one Astra and himself have had an… interesting relationship. He thought she was kind of cute at first. Lacy dresses and pretty ribbons like a doll.

But Ace felt like a damn grease monkey next to her every time she came around. His hands felt perpetually dirty compared to her and the faux-sheepish way she acted let him know that she knew it too. Every insult was paid in turn with a sly smile that only riled him up more. The flirts were the worst of it though, cause he knew she didn’t mean a damn thing by it—and his heart raced every time anyway.

Supposedly, this little ‘date’ would help break the tension. Sabo liked his little friend and wanted his brother to like her too. But Ace couldn’t help but bare his teeth and grimace every time she came up in casual conversation. How Sabo got Astra to agree to any date, let alone at her house with just the two of them, Ace had no fucking idea.

But… he was here now. And he knew Astra had heard him, her blinds moving slightly as he pulled up. If he turned tail and ran now, he’d never hear the end of it.

Ace dismounted his bike, pocketing the keys as he reflexively wiped his hands on his nice jeans. Well, the nicest pair he owned. Only a little bit of an oil stain on the hem. He still grimaced when he went to knock on the door. His tan skin looked dirty compared to the clean, white paint. He half expected to leave a smudge and was only a little disappointed that he didn’t. It would serve her right to have a bit of dirt rubbed on the picturesque image of her home.

The door opened, Astra greeting him with a smile. Pale blue sweater lined with lace draped over her frame.

“Hey there, glad you could make it!” She lied, stepping aside to let him in. Ace huffed, the soft scent of clean laundry and something floral wafting over him. “Feel free to pick a movie while I get the takeout menus. I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I haven’t ordered anything yet.” Astra explained, as though she didn’t know that he would eat just about anything put in front of him.

Huffing, Ace set down his helmet and looked at the bookcase with a wide array of movies. He skipped over the romance titles, as well as the dramas and horror series. He’d rather distract himself with an action movie than risk giving the wrong impression that he was here for anything other than a favor to his brother. He ended up picking a half-decent action-adventure flick about some sort of treasure hunter. The obligatory advertisements before the main menu had started playing before Astra came in with a bundle of takeout menus.

Ace wordlessly accepted the bundle and leafed through them. There was a pretty good variety and it actually kind of surprised him. He sort of thought she’d be the type to cook, pretty well-made meals that would make him feel like he was in a commercial. But no. As it turns out, Astra was a bit more like the average mortal than he assumed. Sure, there were several healthy food options, but her cute face could hardly be sustained on just greasy takeout alone.

He pulled out a Chinese restaurant menu and slapped it down onto the coffee table.

“This sounds good.” Astra hummed, picking it up and looking over it.

“Good pick! They always give me extra dumplings when I order, so they’re not stingy at all.” Astra grinned, pulling out her phone to order after Ace gave her his request. “They’ll be about twenty minutes!”

Astra turned off the light and started the movie, flopping down onto the couch with Ace as the cinematic score started up. Ace sat there, stiff as a board. Viscerally aware that he could feel her body heat near him. Light perfume tickled his nose as he tried to not think about it. He failed, obviously. Her house was clean but lived in, a far cry from his cluttered, messy apartment. He felt vaguely worried that he’d see a dirt imprint when he gets off the couch.

The arrival of food was a welcome distraction—right up until he worried about making a mess. What was worse, getting reamed for staining the couch with curry sauce or being made fun of for shoveling the whole thing into his mouth?

A soft weight leaned against his side and he startled.

Astra was reclining against him, scooping up noodles with her chopsticks without caring about the sauce. Cautiously, Ace stopped worrying and worked through his food. As she had stated, they were generous with their portions. Somewhere between the noodles and picking out chicken Ace had relaxed into the couch cushions. The obligatory third act fight well on it’s way as they set their empty boxes down. Astra tucked underneath his arm as she wrapped hers around his waist with a happy sigh.

As the credits rolled, Astra shifted against him.

“This was nice. I always thought you looked warm.” She mused. Ace paused, looking down at her in confusion. “Want to put on another one?”

“… I thought you’d want me out of here already.” Ace stated. Astra looked at him, soft brown eyes confused in the dim light of the end credits.

“Why? You’re good company.”

Ace felt floored. What an odd thing to say when he knew he’d been leaving smudges of dirt all over her clean house.

“I know I’m too filthy to be in here.” Ace said.

“What the hell are you talking about, Ace?” Astra asked, sitting up to look at him. Ace’s face grew hot as he looked away, waving his hands vaguely.

“You don’t need to pretend, doll. I work with engines all day. I know my clothes are stained with oil and my hands leave grease smears everywhere.” Ace rolled his eyes, “And I know you’d hate your nice dresses getting dirtied up just being near me.”

“…Since when have I cared about that? I know how to wash my clothes, Ace. A little extra laundry sauce is well worth spending time with you.” Astra informed him, much to Ace’s disbelief.

“Doll, you don’t have to lie to me because you’re friends with my brother. I know better than to touch pretty things without cause.” Astra wrinkled her nose.

“With an attitude like that, it’s no wonder you never feel clean enough.” Astra said, throwing her leg over his lap and sitting. Ace’s breath froze in his lungs, his hands twitching as he didn’t know where to put them. But Astra had no such difficulties, her hands trailing up his chest and to his neck, tipping his head back as she leaned into his space further. “You think I’m pretty?” she asked, her words brushing over his lips.

“C-Course I do, doll.” Ace mumbled, face red as she hovered over him, eyes locked with his. His hands found themselves at her hips, bunching up the soft cashmere of her sweater without thought. “T-Too pretty to be sitting on my lap like this.”

“I don’t know, Ace. You’re looking pretty cute from where I’m sitting. A little grease isn’t going to scare me off. Unless you’d rather I not be here? I can move but…”

“But?” Ace whispered, his heart pounding in his chest as his cock began to ache.

Astra leaned in closer, almost brushing his lips as she spoke, soft curves pressed against his body.

“I’ve wanted to kiss your cute face since we first met. Every freckle and scar. Think I could, Ace?” Astra whispered back.

Ace whined, clutching her sweater as he lifted his head up, smashing his lips against hers. She held his face between her soft hands as her tongue swept into his mouth. Ace moaned as he chased the taste of orange chicken and something sweeter—something uniquely her. His grip fixed onto her waist, grinding her against his lap as he was rewarded with a soft moan.

“A-Astra…” Ace panted as she pulled back for air.

“Do you want more, pretty boy?” Ace blushed, whining as he ducked his head against her soft neck. Shyly pressing wet kisses and nips to her skin. She swiveled her hips down against his erection freely, her hands running up and down his sides as she slowly pulled up his shirt. Her nails lightly tracing his abs until her palms met his chest. Panting for air, he pulled away to rip his shirt off.

His eagerness rewarded when she tossed away her sweater. A lacy, silk camisole covering her bare breasts.

The possibility of smearing dirt on her clothes the furthest thing from his mind as he pressed his wet tongue over her stiff nipple. Damp silk catching on his canines as she moaned for him. Her hands caressing his shoulders and running through his hair. He pulled away reluctantly, blowing across the wet fabric with a heady chuckle as she jerked against him.

“Callin’ me pretty when you look like sugar and cream.” Ace huffed, pulling down her camisole to nip at her stiff peak. “Stop lying to me, doll.”

“No, no, no baby~! I’m not lying at all. Look at your pretty face. Those gorgeous eyes. I can’t think when you walk around without a shirt on.” Astra praised him, pulling back his hair so he’d look her in the eyes as she pressed her breasts up against his chin. “So sweet for me, pretty boy. I need you to touch me. Won’t you touch me, pretty boy?” Astra asked of him.

Ace’s hands were already making their way to her thighs. Fondling the curve of her ass as he gently pulled down her tights. The sheer, white fabric almost ripping under his careful, desperate motions. Ace grit his teeth and hissed as he fucked up and tore it anyway. Lace panties evident under his fingertips as he pressed up against a thin, damp strip of fabric.

“S-Shut up~!” Ace huffed, pulling the lace aside and finding his fingers drenched. Sliding into her cute pussy without effort despite the tight squeeze. Astra moaned, squeezing him closer as Ace dipped his chin lower to kiss her breasts. “N-Not pretty or cute. How can you say that when your tits are right here? Your pussy drenching my hand? I-I shouldn’t be here—fuck you’re so soft—” Ace cursed. Astra moaned, bouncing against his hand as he marked her chest.

“W-Want you here! Right here, Ace. My pretty boy, let me ride you please~!” Astra moaned, pulling his hair back to kiss him feverishly.

Ace whined when she raised her ass up, ripping his hand free of her cunt as she blindly reached down for his jeans. Like an addict, Ace kept fondling her wet pussy and thigh as she freed his cock. Groaning as she reached for his wet hand and made him fist his dick. Spreading her arousal across it, guided by her soft hand as she sank down. The leaking tip drenched as it pressed against her pussy.

Ace threw back his had with a harsh whimper as she sank down onto his cock. Sopping wet cunt throttling every inch until her ass met his thighs. His eyes squeezed shut as he panted for air, body tense and stiff as a rock. Then she pulled up, a pathetic whine leaving his chest as he struggled not to cum. The head of his cock almost slipped out and he desperately latched onto her hips, yanking her back down firmly onto his lap.

They both cried out, shuddering against each other as he settled in her body. Cunt struggling to hold onto his thick cock.

And despite feeling like heaven and hell wrapped around his cock, she just kept talking.

“H-Hot! You feel so hot, Aaaccee~!”

“Let me hear you again, pretty boy. You sound so cute when you whimpered.”

“No, no tears pretty boy, I’m not going anywhere. Wouldn’t leave you for anything pretty baby.” Astra cooed against his lips as she rode him. Licking and kissing him as he whined, hips jolting up with every damn nickname she gave him.

“N-Not a pretty boy~!” Ace denied, receiving only a soft chuckle and a kiss to his cheek.

“Yeah you are~ Pretty boys get free rides… do you want me to stop?” Astra asked gently, pulling off his cock. Ace’s blood froze at the suggestion.

Her body was torture. Soft and sweet all over… and he never wanted it to end. Ace shook his head frantically, gripping her hips and pulling down unsuccessfully.

“But you’re not a pretty boy, Ace. You said so. My pretty baby could have this all day…” Astra teased. Ace blinked back tears, knot tangled up in his chest and balls as his head swam. She sank down finally, sitting firmly on his cock as she leaned over and whispered into his ear. “Are you my pretty baby, Ace?”

“YES! Yes! I-I’m—I’m your pretty baby~!” Ace broke, almost sobbing as she started bouncing on his cock again. “I-I’m pretty! S-S-Sooooo pretty for you, d-doll~!” Ace cried out desperately, tears falling as he hurtled towards the edge.

It hurt like hell.

It felt like sin.

It felt so fucking right to be her ‘pretty boy’.

Truth or a lie, it didn’t matter. She wanted him.

And his cock throbbed as he came with a broken sob, her pace slowing down to grind against his lap. Ace’s thighs trembled as he flexed his hips, bouncing her on his cock as he reached down and rubbed her clit. Desperate to show her that he was worth being her pretty boy.

“A-Ace! Ace! O-Oh p-pretty baby yeah, so good for me, baby~!” Astra chanted, pussy clenching down on him as she trembled. Squirting on his cock and probably ruining her couch.

But Ace didn’t care.

He only had eyes for Astra, panting and sweating, tan skin marked with bruises and smears of grease.

Ace panted, holding her firmly onto his lap still as he finished pouring into her quivering pussy. Astra moaned, wobbling in place before falling forward against his chest. Raining kisses across his filthy skin. As rubbed his hands across her slick skin with a dizzy smile, kissing her soft brown hair.

Slowly, she started rocking against him again. His cock stirring in a lewd mix of their cum as it dripped down his balls and thighs.

“A-Again, doll?” Ace asked breathlessly. Astra lifted her head and kissed under his chin.

“Yeah, pretty boy. You deserve a reward.” Ace didn’t know what the hell he could have done, but any questions he had were silenced as her lips pressed against his, her waist rocking against his grip.

He wasn’t totally sold on this whole ‘pretty boy’ business. But if it means he gets to taste and hold Astra’s sweet body… he’s willing to hear her out.

If she doesn’t change her mind in the morning after seeing the state of her couch, Ace didn’t mind being her pretty boy.

#Date Night #one piece smut #one piece #portgas d ace #fire fist ace #Oc #Ace sure is popular in this event lmao #hopefully I nailed the praise kink #ngl my grip is a little wobbly cause I tend to be a little mean myself

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marvelouslytrekking · 3 years

Text

The Code

Pairing: Din Djarin/gn!reader Summary: Mando leaves specific instructions not to leave the ship while he is out on a hunt. Disobey those instructions leads to very terrible consequences - will Mando make it back in time? Word Count: 3232 Warning: Mention of blood, pain, knife, torture, canon-typical violence A/N: I decided to see if the Whumptober prompts inspired anything and here this is.... days 1, 2, & 3 all in one! The specific prompts used were: 1: Bound 2: Gagged 3: “Who did this to you” I hope y'all enjoy! Also don’t forget Feedback Feeds my Soul

Main Masterlist | Other Din fics

You knew that you should have listened to him, he told you not to leave the ship but you wanted to find something other than the terrible rations to eat. You thought that you would be fine. You made sure that the kid was secure in the ship, and you made sure that the ship was in your line of sight, you’d be able to get back to it if you needed.

Everything had been going well, you had found some fruit that was growing and from what you could tell, was edible. You had begun picking the fruit, excited to see what all you could make with what you were finding.

You heard a branch snap, but it wasn’t from your own feet. You scanned the area, surely it was just an animal but you suddenly got a sick feeling in your gut, and knew you needed to get back to the ship. You would just need to engage ground security protocols once you were onboard and both you and the child would be safe.

You had turned to head back to the ship, but it was too late. You saw that they were closer than you, there was no way for you to make it onboard before they did. You didn’t even have to think, the decision had been an easy one, you used the remote controls to engage the protocols, locking the child in the ship when the hunters wouldn’t be able to get to him. It would buy him time until Mando could get back and kill them off.

You then tried to hunker down, they hadn’t seen you yet and you had hoped that it would stay that way. It had bought you some time. You watched from the foliage as they tried to get in the ship to no avail. You felt relief knowing the child was safe, though that relief was only short lived as you suddenly heard movement behind you.

You whipped around quickly, trying to get a blaster shot off but he was faster than you expected and managed to dodge the shot, which just meant that you had signaled the others to your location. You were luckily fast enough to rip your arm panel with the controls for the ship off your arm and shoot that. You got one good step on it too before a blaster shot hit your thigh.

You crumbled to the ground from the pain of the close range shot, you desperately tried to focus on getting out of the situation or fighting your way out of the 5 men, but before you could find your footing again, the man’s foot was on your shoulder, painfully pressing it into the ground. You still tried to get a shot off at him, but he was easily able to pry your blaster from your hand.

“He sure picked a feisty one.” The hunter chucked before grabbing you by the shoulder and pulling you upright. You were surrounded by 2 other men before you were fully upright, one on each side of you, dragging you back towards the ship.

“She destroyed her controls.” The first man told the others, lifting the destroyed band.

“That’s fine, her biometrics should open the ship using the panel at the door.” Another pointed out. You were never more thankful for how paranoid Mando was, while your biometrics were required to get to the controls, to undo something like ground protocols, or really anything, a 6 digit code was also needed. And only you knew your code.

You probably should have let them figure that out themselves but you couldn’t help but laugh at them.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” He growled.

“Oh, just that even with a big ass head, you have a tiny fucking brain.” You chuckled. Your insult only earned you two fingers pushing into the wound on your leg, making you cry out.

“Not laughing now.” He smirked, happy with his work. He didn’t waste his time forcing you to the panel, pressing your hand to the reader. You could feel how smug he was when the light went green. There was a moment of anticipation, then the code boxes popped up and you felt the anger and annoyance that he felt realizing what had happened.

You felt the blaster pressed into the back of your head as he took a step away from you. “Open that door right now or I will shoot you.”

“If you kill me you’ll never get in.” You pointed out. You knew that the next few hours or days, depending on how long Mando took, wasn’t going to be pleasant, but you had no plans on giving them that code. You would rather be killed. “Go ahead and shoot me now, because it does not matter what you do, I will never give up that code.”

You turned around slowly, looking down the barrel of the gun, directly into the man’s eyes. You refused to let him think he had you scared, you wanted him to realize that he would fail, that you would die before even thinking about giving up Mando or the kid.

“We’ll see about that.” He locked eyes on you, lowering the gun only slightly. “Tie them up,” You were quickly grabbed and dragged over to a tree that was near the entrance of the ship, you were bound to the tree tightly, a little wiggling told you that you weren’t getting out very easily.

“Alimar! Can you get that damn door open?” The man you assumed was in charge asked the smallest man, who was beside the panel.

“I am trying sir, but the security is very tight and I am afraid that one wrong move and it will just lock down more.”

“Well don’t make a wrong move. I want that damn door open before The Mandalorian gets back here.”

“Now you, you’re going to make his job unneeded and you’re going to tell us your code.”

“Again, not happening.” You rolled your eyes at him. Your answer earned you a swift and strong fist to your gut. You groaned at the pain but straightened yourself.

“Fine, stop, the code is 654321.” You said, making yourself sound more out of breath then you were.

“Don’t enter that!” The man in front of you shouted to Alimar, who was about to enter it as if you would give up that easy.

“Is that the code you enter to warn your little mandalorian? You think I’m that stupid?”

“I guess you’ll never know if I ever even give you the right code or if what I say will do any number of things, from warn Mando, to locking it down further, to self destroying the ship.”

“You wouldn’t risk the kid’s life.” He glared at you, but you could tell the wheels in his brain were turning. He had to think of a way to get you to give him the code, but he had to be able to be sure it was the right one.

“Well I guess that just leaves the hard way. Can’t trust you until I can break you.”

He wasn’t lying, he had no intentions of going easy on you. He had started by changing your position, tying your hands on a branch that happened to be at the perfect height above your head. You knew this position left you much more vulnerable, and he took full advantage of that.

He started with his blaster, a shot to your shin, followed by asking for the code. You gave another random combination of 6 digits. He then walked away, towards the panel, he would examine it, then walk back. A shot to your forearm, followed by the same question. You gave another 6 numbers. He walked away, only to come back, this time with a knife.

He gave you a deep cut on the outside of the thigh that hadn’t been shot previously. You hadn’t been able to hold in the screamed pains you had been letting out after each infliction, which only seemed to make the man in front of you smile.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but you did notice the sun beginning to set. He started to leave you alone for longer periods, which was good. You weren’t sure how many more you were going to be able to take. You were just praying that Mando would be back soon.

Even if you didn’t last much longer, you also started to worry about their resident mechanic. You kept your eye on his progress and were scared that he could actually manage to get through the door.

It had quickly become dark, the only light coming from the lights on the ship. You could tell it was also cooling down as well. You tried to ignore the shivers that were running through your body but there was no use.

“Shit!” You heard the man who had been on watch utter. “Boss! We got a problem, he’s here.”

“Fuck!” The man in charge frantically looked around trying to figure something out. You were about to let out a scream, something to warm Mando, but right as you opened your mouth, one of them shoved a cloth into your mouth.

“Not gonna happen.” He tightened it around your head, making sure you weren’t able to spit it out to warn Mando.

“Good, all we need to do is hide, when he gets here, he’ll be distracted with them, and by the time they can even try to warn him, we’ll jump him.” Their leader told them. They were quickly to gather the little they had and find themselves spots that they would go unseen.

You just prayed that Mando would catch their body signatures through his visor first. If he noticed them before he noticed you, then he would have a chance of fighting them off. If their plan went their way, and he was distracted by you, there was a chance they could overpower him.

You heard your name being shouted, you turned your head to see Mando, his focus solely on you. His helmet never left you, even as you shook your head viciously, trying to get him to look anywhere else, but he was in front of you quickly.

Mando was looking you over, you could feel the anger and tension that was radiating from him. Though at the moment all you could think about was warning him. You were trying to yell through the gag, but it stopped anything comprehensible from coming out.

“Who did this to you!?” Mando asked, a sharp edge to his voice, one that sent a shiver down your spine. He was quick to untie to gag, realizing you were trying to say something.

“Behind you!” Was all you could manage to get out as soon as the gag was undone.

He only had a moment to turn around and realize that he was faced with exactly who did this. His blaster was fired off before he even fully had time to process what was transpiring. His shot landed, though you were sad to realize it took down the least threatening, the mechanic.

He begins to go for the other four men, but one manages to kick his blaster out of his hand, he is left trying to fight all of them with just his hands. You tried to get out of your ropes again, to no avail and were left to watch in panic and he tried to fight them all off. He had been knocked to the ground. Not one, but two of the men on top of him holding him down. You watched as he went to use his flame thrower on his arm to get them off him, when the leader was quick to step down hard on his wrist, stopping his ability to get the flames anywhere that would be helpful.

You watched in panic as he thrashed around, trying to gain any leverage but he was outnumbered. The leader got the third man to take over holding his arm down. The two men on top of him shifted slightly, just enough so that their leader could bend down in front of Mando.

“It looks like you aren’t as sharp as everyone says.” He taunted. “I was expecting more of a fight, I didn’t think that you cared about anything under all that metal. But looks like all it took to take down the great Mandalorian was capturing his favorite little companion.”

“Leave them out of this!” He seethed, thrashing more at the mention of you.

“Oh, but why would I, when we had so much fun today while you were gone.” He smiled disgustingly. “Honestly surprised they are even awake with all I put them through today.”

His attention flickered to you for a moment, he was quick to notice you looked more panicked now than you had all day and he realized he might have just hit the jackpot.

“You know, I always wondered what you looked like under that tin can. I bet you are hideous, it’s not some creed that keeps that helmet on, but more that you are just so ugly no one would want to look at you.” He began to bend down towards Mando. If he had been thrashing beforehand, now he was frantic.

“Stop!!” You screamed, grabbing the leader and Mando’s attention. “Stop! I will give you the code, please, just leave him alone,”

“Is that all it takes to break you? You don’t want to know what he looks like? Afraid he will have to kill you after you know?”

“I think I have made it pretty clear today that my life is not what matters here.” You sighed, “Just leave him alone and I will give you the code.”

“Don’t!” You heard him beg you, but your heart was shattering, you refused to allow these men to break Mando of his creed. A creed that you had witnessed how seriously he took. You would not be a part of that happening.

You locked your eyes with his visor, hoping that you were meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t watch them hurt you.”

“Good.” The leader smiled, standing up over Mando. “Now no games. If the code you give me does not open that door, then I will take that helmet, kill your precious Mandalorian slowly, and make you watch. Then I will blow my way through this ship anyway and get the kid, and leave you to die. Do you understand?

“Yes. No games, just promise you won’t hurt him.” You pleaded.

“You have my word.” You knew the word of a hunter like him meant nothing, and when you noticed that Mando’s free hand was reaching slightly for a blade in the side of his pants, you realized you had a plan, one that gave Mando the time he needed to get the upper hand.

“Okay. My code is 827364.” You sighed, you gave the right number up until the last digit. The panel would light green for every correct digit, meaning that until the last moment, he would think that you were right. But you also knew he had to untie you because your bioscan would have timed out. This would hopefully allow you to give Mando some form of help, though you had minimal strength left in your body, you would try.

“Fuck.” He marched back over to you. “Don’t even think of trying anything.” He told you as he untied you from the tree. You realized just how weak you were when you nearly collapsed. You saw Mando twitch at seeing just how bad of shape you were in, but now neither of you had time to do anything about it.

“Looks like you won’t be doing anything even if you wanted to.” He smirked, practically dragging you to the ship panel. He pressed your hand to it, reading your signal. Once he was no longer in need of you, he threw you to the ground away from him.

You groaned as you hit the ground. Watching as he entered the numbers you had given him. You realized he had made a mistake when you saw a blaster that was in your reach.

You put all your effort into stretching just enough to grab it without signalling to him or the others what you were doing. You saw him tap the last number and as soon as the panel turned red you let your blaster shot go off.

The man whose foot had been holding Mando’s hand down was suddenly stumbling back, and hit the ground. Mando wasted no time, his arm coming up and the flames engulfing the two men holding him down.

They screamed in agony as they rolled off the mandalorian. He got to his feet in record time and before the leader could think to retaliate against you, a knife was plunged into his chest.

Mando marched over to him and was above him as he stumbled back into the ship. Without a word he rips the blade out and stabs it back in the other side. The knife is out of him again, this time finding a place in his stomach. Next his thigh, until finally he has enough and with a quick swipe, the man’s neck is sliced open. He tried to helplessly grab at his neck but within moments he was bleeding out on the ground.

You heard three more blaster shots before Mando was in your vision. “You’re okay, you’re going to be okay.”

You tried to nod, tried to stand up, but your body had given up on you. “I’m sorry.” You managed to get out. If you had only listened to him, you would have been in the ship and not put all of you in such danger.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” He told you softly as he wrapped his arms gingerly under you. “Let’s get you patched up.”

“I could have gotten us all killed.” You whined at the pain as he lifted you.

“But you didn’t.” He sighed. He was trying to hold in the worry and anger that was still coursing through his veins. The pain and anger he felt seeing you tied to that tree, the last thing he was worried about had been his creed, and yet, you had. You refused to let them take away something that you didn’t even fully understand and he couldn’t help but love you a little more for that.

While that anger and worry could lead him to taking it out on you, you had disobeyed him, but you also risked your life for him and the child, and he couldn’t be mad at you for that. Instead he left all his anger to the men that were dead outside the ship.

He was as careful as he could be with you as he finally unlocked the ship and walked you up the ramp and quickly laid you on a cot so he could begin to patch you up.

“You saved us.” He adds softly as he notices you slip into sleep. He hoped you would sleep through the worst of the treatments if he was being honest, once he was sure you couldn’t hear him he added, “You saved me.”

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crimson-dxwn · 4 years

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At Odds: Chapter 3

Summary: Hey all, so I decided to change this from a Reader Insert fic into third person (?). Tbh I hate this chapter but it sets up some necessary things. Decided to just bite the bullet and just post since I’m probably gonna die in a snowy ditch in MT tomorrow.

Kal thinks about some things, Laseema gets the deets, and doc comes back to Kyrimorut

Warnings: Sexual harassment? idk there’s not much to warn for here. Slight mutual pining

Words: 4040

Kyrimorut, Northern Mandalore

Spring

Kal suspected the situation with Parja had been a lot hairier than the doc had let on; it was just a feeling really, he didn’t have any knowledge about anatomy or birth or babies. But he did have a keen eye for how people worked under pressure, and that woman had nerves of steel. Like he told her before, she was mandokarla, she had that rare combination of daring and compassion that he’d once seen in Etain. The right stuff. People didn’t realize that the right stuff was different in everyone. Besany had proven it when she chose to commit espionage against her own government, Parja had showed it every tough day with Fi when he couldn’t even remember his own name, let alone walk. Laseema raised Kad without even a question, because she loved the boy and Atin.

She had raged at him, managing to hit him in that well of self-loathing that he usually kept carefully covered with his hatred for the Empire. Etain and Darman, the men and boys he’d lost, being disowned by his own sons, all of it he could bear, but he couldn’t - wouldn’t - seem to forgive himself for anything. He felt like a failure in every way that mattered. He wondered when it would break him.

If he dwelled on his failures too long, he would drown in their sheer volume, and he realized that when Kal watched the doc work, he simply couldn’t recall any of them, or at least they didn’t weigh so heavy. And then somehow they’d fallen into bed together like two teenagers, practically ripping each other’s clothes off. It turned out that her sharp mind and nimble hands were good for more than just delivering babies. He didn’t think he could recall the last time he’d gotten that hard that fast - definitely before Kamino. A mistake, she called it. Maybe it was, but he couldn’t deny that there was an undeniable attraction between them.

“Buir?” Ordo’s voice rings out behind him and Kal turns to meet his eyes, finding concern there. Ordo had always been protective of him, more so the older they both got. His mind had a hard time reconciling how fast his boys grew up with how much time had actually passed.

“What is it, son?

“I...uh,” he says, “wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Fine, Ordo. Just seeing the doc out. Let’s get back to breakfast before it’s gone.”

They walk in companionable silence down the hall, though Kal can tell that something is bothering Ordo. By now, he knew all of his sons’ anxious tics and twitches as if they were his own.

“Something on your mind?”

Kal wasn’t able to wheedle it out of him, as they’d reached the door to the karyai and the chaos that made up breakfast time in the huge household. Ordo made his way back to Besany’s side, where Mird was still chirping and wagging his tail furiously and Walon was considering the scene with a shit eating grin on his face. Oh.

Guess he’d get to see the doc again after all.

Laseema, sitting with Kad on her lap, just rolled her eyes knowingly and shoveled a bite of food into her mouth. The blue twi’lek seemed to know everything before the rest of them, as if all the news and gossip of the family flowed through her first and then filtered out to the rest. Kal decides he can’t bother to try and comprehend women. It isn’t a new feeling for him.

He thinks on the hurry that the doc left in and what she’d said when he caught up with her. Kal was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything to upset her, after all she was just fine when he left her in his room. No, it must have been something else.

Walon Vau finally breaks the awkward silence.

“Mird seems to think you two have something to announce,” he says, an amused look still on his patrician face. Vau sips his strig as if he has all the time in the world and Kal half expects the man to rest his boots on the table, only his manners are too good.

Ordo looks at his wife with a bewildered expression - he’s at a loss as to what to say, that much is obvious. The null is trying in vain to shoo Mird back to where Walon is sitting.

Laseema raises a tattooed eyebrow, still bouncing a silent Kad. Scorch and Sev are at the table in their shorts and undershirts, and they glance between their buir and the null ARC expectantly like two vultures. They’re ready for a fight.

“Spit it out, Ordo,” teases Scorch, oblivious.

“I’m pregnant,” Besany blurts out tearfully, and stands so fast her chair tips over behind her. Mird scrabbles backwards as she storms past it and out of the room.

If there wasn’t going to be a fight before, there certainly was now. Ordo, unable to stand seeing Besany upset in any way, rounds on Scorch. Kal does see a flare of contrition on his face, but Ordo’s imminent anger flips a switch in the commando and he clamps down, readying himself for what comes next. Vau’s boys always did have skewed self-preservation instincts. They were all feeling cooped up lately, and it was obviously making tensions run high.

“Enough,” he says, from the vantage point of his appointed chair. A harsh word from Kal is typically enough to make just about anyone who lived in the vicinity stop what they were doing, even two oversized grown men fighting over nothing. Ordo and Scorch remain standing, but their postures have relaxed, if only marginally.

“She wanted to wait to tell people,” Ordo growls, looking from Vau to Scorch to Mird and back.

“Ordo, son, why don’t you go make sure Bes is okay.” Maybe he wasn’t the best with emotion, but Kal could infer that she probably didn’t want to be alone right now. And it had the added benefit of keeping at least a few solid stone walls between Ordo and Scorch until the tension simmered down.

They ate in silence until Sev and Scorch traipsed off to get ready for the day and Walon decided to open his mouth again.

“Men need a good fight,” he says, staring into his strig, “been cooped up too long.”

“I think for once, you and I agree,” answers Kal.

“You may get what you wish for,” Laseema pipes up. Her mouth is set in a grim line. Never one to underestimate, Vau considers her with another vaguely amused look. “When I was in Keldabe, there was talk of an Imperial garrison being set up there.”

Vau’s amused look is gone. It was a surprise to both of them. Imperial transports had been making their way in and out of the system for a while, that they already knew. Mereel had been monitoring transmissions, but an occupation of the Mandalorian capital hadn’t been in the list of encrypted messages they’d managed to decipher. The Empire had been smart enough to ditch the dead Republic’s encryption after Order 66. Smart, he thought, but really kriffing inconvenient for them. Jaing and Mereel were only able to make out a word or two, rarely full sentences from the transmissions they were able to intercept. Nothing about a garrison.

He kicks himself for not utilizing Laseema’s skills earlier. Women could go where soldiers, even ones trained to infiltrate, could not. Twi’leks especially. As unfortunate as it was, the fact that her species was an oft-chosen one for slaves and servants had a sort of advantage. And something about Laseema made people want to tell her things. It might do for her to make another trip into Keldabe soon. Atin wouldn’t love the idea, but Kal had a feeling that Laseema would be on board.

“I believe it’s time for a proper recon mission.” Vau stares intently at Laseema, who returns his sharp gaze. She’s come a long way from Qibbu’s.

The mood on the planet, or at least what Kal had gathered from their excursions to Enceri, was becoming increasingly grim. Even more unsettling was the news trickling in from the core and the inner rim as Palpatine’s new Empire gradually tightened its hold. And to top it all off, the last time Kal had seen Mij Gilamar his old friend hadn’t cracked a smile the entire time. There was an outbreak in Sundari, something like Candorian Plague, sweeping through the shelters of people left unhoused after the Republic had taken back the city from Maul. It was the first time Kal had seen the man look his age. It was just another worry to stack on top of all the others.

----

Two weeks later, Keldabe, Mandalore

Spring

Keldabe is a mash of buildings and dwellings of various ages. Pale brick, duracrete, steel, even wood and thatch mix together on the blocks. It makes for good hidey-holes, places to meet in secret, in the shadows thrown by the rooms stacked on top of one another lining narrow alleys. Keldabe is the unofficial capital of the planet, and the oldest city, older than Sundari by far and located in a much more hospitable location.

Laseema is on Baker street, one of the oldest in the city, pretending to be just another citizen doing their shopping for the day, comparing prices and quality. It’s Keldabe’s market day, and the crowds make for good cover and good listening; the vendors are always eager to trade gossip for business. She even buys a pan of the sweet rolls that she knew Atin likes. Baker street, near the outskirts of the city, is one of the most popular and packed avenues, and every so often Laseema can see the gleam of a pure white helmet over hair and beskar-clad heads.

She still finds it hard to call them stormtroopers. They’re clone troopers, her brain tells her, you’re safe, it’s Atin’s brothers under there. But she is wrong, and these stormtroopers would haul her off to goddess knows where if they knew who she was connected to. A rush of cold comes over her and she burrows back into the crowd, away from the nearest white helmet. There are more this trip, almost twice as many as her last time in the city, some on patrols and others on leave, weaving through the throng of people with their helmets off, chatting with their buddies. Some are nat-borns, as Atin called them, and others are clones. You can tell the difference by the way they carried themselves. The nat-borns are sloppy, slouching, the ones who joke with their friends and flirt with pretty girls whether they were on leave or on duty, and more often wearing officer uniforms. The former clone troopers walk in solemn silence, forever in sync, without even their painted armor to distinguish them.

She has a mission here. She’d offered because she wanted to help and because Kal had asked, though he’d never make her do anything she didn’t want to do. But Laseema wanted to feel useful outside of making food and taking care of Kad. It felt like everyone else was in danger constantly and she felt horribly guilty being the one who got to stay safe at home.

She can handle playing the dumb twi’lek role. At Qibbu’s it had always been the most reliable way to get the best tips, and she played it well, even now, years after she’d danced around a pole. The downside was that it made her seem like an easy target, which is why she always approached the slimiest, fattest, slowest-looking officer she could manage. Laseema wasn’t big, but she was fast and now she had her knife hidden on her person for anyone who decided to try something. She hoped it didn’t come to that.

She already has good intel from the merchants she’s seen so far. But she wants more; to get it she’ll have to take on a proportional amount of risk. She is on Baker Street for its popularity, but also for its proximity to the bathhouse positioned on the corner at the end of the street. She has...unpleasant memories associated with such establishments that try to bubble up, despite knowing that this wasn’t that sort of place.

It’s old, made of cracked creamy yellow brick, with a domed top and big wooden doors. Surreptitiously, she brushes her hand up against the credits Kal had given her in an inside pocket of her tunic, and makes her way up the stairs and through the great doors. The old woman at the desk smiles warmly at her.

“Su cuy’gar,” the woman greets.

“Su cuy’gar,” replies Laseema. She can tell they are alone in the atrium out of the corner of her eyes, but gets up close to her nonetheless. With any luck, Kal had been able to contact her and smooth things along. If not, she’s prepared. Fortunately, few Mandalorians in the North, including Keldabe, were sympathetic to the Empire. Yet.

“A towel for you,” the owner says, handing the article to Laseema.

“Thank you.” She moves to press the credits into the older woman’s hand, but the woman pushes her fist back.

“There’s no need. Tell our friend Ayati says hello.” Ayati jerks her head towards the locker room on her right. “You’ll be working steam room two today.”

Laseema only nods and heads to the changing room, and quick peek reveals a worker’s uniform hidden within the folds of the towel. She stashes her old clothes and quickly dons the new tunic and cropped flowy trousers that were unisex and ubiquitous throughout the facility. Steam room two, she reminds herself. That must be where the good pickings are. It would be officers, preferably; the grunts never got the full scope of information, let alone plans for the future.

Grabbing a stack of towels, she exits the locker room and heads past the pools and baths, down a long hallway at the back of the complex that houses the private steam rooms. Numbered doors are cut out of the paneled wood wall. Laseema is alone in the hallway, standing outside steam room two, towels in hand. She positions her ear cone close to the crack between the door and its frame, listening.

Four voices, maybe five come from inside. Her heart beating is making her blood rush in her ears and she wills it to slow, unable to hear much over the sound of her anxiety. Finally, she can hear more of the conversation from inside.

“- not the worst place I’ve been stationed.”

“Me either.”

“You never know what you’ll get with these Mando girls with their helmets and armor on though”

“Just keep the helmet on!”

They laugh.

“- more troopers coming in a month,” one says, “Should add a little variety that won’t stab you in the back when you’re taking your pants off.”

More laughter. A bench creaks and Laseema holds her breath.

“New barracks better have nice beds than what they’ve got us in now-“

“Beds on the floor, what kind of savages-“

“It’s 1500. Better get back, boys.”

“Aye, captain,” come echoed voices

Laseema makes for a quick exit and then changes her mind. She can handle a little risk, after all, this wasn’t the worst situation she’d been in. And if it helped Atin and their family, the risk was worth it. A hand rattles on the doorknob as it opens and Laseema scampers to position herself where they’ll see her, a little down the hall, holding fresh towels in outstretched arms.

Four men exit the room and she keeps her eyes down, praying they’ll ignore her and keep talking. She thanks the goddess they’re in shorts and not naked. Atin had been...less than keen of this plan for multiple reasons, this being one of them.

Three take a towel without a word or second glance. Laseema is not so lucky with the fourth, who takes a towel and pauses to look her up and down. He’s one of the younger ones, tall with a forgettable pinched face.

“Now here’s something you don’t see every day.” She dares look him in the eye, remembering the knife in its sheath around her waist, hidden by her tunic.

“A Mandalorian tailhead?” The man’s lips twist into a smirk and he directs his attention back down towards her, amused by his own cleverness. “How much?”

“How much what?” Laseema knows what. She’s been asked before, many times. It’s a phrase men like him keep at the tip of their tongues, because in their minds anything can be bought, including - especially - people.

“For you.” He looms over her as the other men watch from a distance.

“I’m not for sale,” she spits out, barely containing herself. If she starts something here, she won’t be able to finish it, not four against one.

The man runs his knuckle down one of her lekku and she yanks it away, scandalized, and shudders. The man laughs under his breath. Laseema lets her eyes focus on a bandage that hangs half off his upper arm instead of on his face.

“I have to get back to work,” she says, still avoiding his eyes, “please excuse me.” And she walks away, slowly and calmly, barely able to restrain herself from breaking into a run. Atin would’ve broken his fingers one by one, she thinks, and I would help. It was probably best her husband didn’t know about her run-in with the tall imperial.

It was worth it, even for the small amount of information she’d gleaned. New barracks. More troopers. One month.

Back at the compound, Kal, Walon, Ordo and Laseema digest the information.

“Sounds like an invasion,” says Ordo, his mouth full of food.

Kal knew Laseema would pull through for them. Initially Atin had seemed a little put out by the notion but had said nothing, only shooting Kal an angry glance when she came home in one piece, if not a little shaken up.

“We knew it was only a matter of time.” Walon Vau somehow looks even more grim than usual. He runs a hand through his grey hair, thinking. “A month…”

“You know there aren’t enough of us,” Kal says, and Vau nods in agreement.

“I know,” he replies.

“Then we’ll just have to get creative.”

———

The long speeder ride from Keldabe to Kyrimorut gives her time to think.

She’d been lonely for a long time, at least as long as she can remember, the short sorry course of her dating life culminating in a few brief relationships that ended sourly. Long, punishing hours were usually the answer to any painful thoughts, and it had worked well for her, at least until Kyrimorut, where every emotion she’d worked so hard to ignore had threatened to spill over and drown her.

And there was Kal. At first she was sure he hated her guts, but the way he watched her work during Parja’s delivery and the absolute awe in his voice and on his features was as sincere as she’d ever seen. It touched a part of her that she’d thought was long gone, deadened by years of loss and rejection. Somehow she feels they had forged a small connection, that he understood in some small way that she couldn’t quite put a finger on.

She’d left the foolish hope of her twenties behind, and with it the illusion of finding someone who would and could keep up with her long hours and nights away. So far she’d been disappointed, but not surprised.

Kyrimorut was remote and well hidden, though not too far from Enceri, the nearest trading post, by speeder. She’ll have to face Kal again, but any apprehension would be easy enough to hide behind the real reason she were at the compound.

It feels like almost no time has gone by since she’d stormed out two weeks ago. Gently, she reminds herself that she is here for business and not to fall back into bed with the patriarch of Clan Skirata.

A familiar face answers the door when she knocks. Fi stands in the open doorway, looking much too chipper for a new parent.

“Sorry, baby factory’s closed.”

“Feels like I never left,” she replies, wishing she hadn’t.

“Come on in. You should stay for dinner, Atin and Laseema are cooking tonight and it’s bound to be something good. If you want your tastebuds burned off, that is.”

She laughs. “I’m Mando, how could I not?” Loving spicy food was practically a cultural requirement.

Fi leads her through the halls and they chat about he and Parja’s little one. Lael was a quiet little thing, much to the chagrin of his talkative father. They reach Ordo and Besany’s pod of rooms and Fi takes his leave, giving her a little hug and a peck on the cheek as he goes.

The couple is sitting inside, Ordo looking both elated and horrendously nervous at the same time. She wonders if he needs a garbage can nearby and make a mental note to have him sit in the delivery room when the time comes. Fainting husbands were a very unwelcome addition to the stress of a birth.

The appointment goes well, with the exception of Ordo’s constant questioning and Besany’s futile attempts to calm him down. She suspects some of his anxiety is compensation for the guilt of putting her in this situation. She’s been sick, and these soldiers aren’t suited to sitting around and watching people they love suffer.

“Only a few more weeks to go and you’ll probably be feeling better, cyar’ika.” Besany smiles weakly back at her, unconvinced.

A normal sonogram later, they’re both happy and relieved, fawning over the sono printout and she leaves them to it.

Much to her displeasure, Kal is waiting outside Besany and Ordo’s door. He’s wearing his armor, the gold of the beskar gleaming subtly in the morning light. Her stomachs drops into her feet at the sight of him, having to face him again.

“We’d feel better if you were here instead of alone in Keldabe,” he says. Kal’s hand is wrapped around her upper arm, gently pulling her back towards him. She can feel her heart pick up at his hand on her bare skin. “There’s some osik going on with the Empire and we’re not sure what it is yet.”

“I can take care of myself, Kal. Kyrimorut is too far from my patients and the hospital to make it work.” Never one to take no for an answer, he tries again.

“I don’t think you understand. They’re planning something big.”

“Why me?”

“What?” He stares at her, annoyance plain on his face. It’s always easy to get Kal riled up, but today it takes no effort at all. He must truly be concerned about what’s going on with the Empire; it gives her pause for the first time that day.

“Why do you want me to stay?”

“Bes is going to need you,” he replies.

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re gathering up all your tools and closing up shop? Besany isn’t the only person who needs me, Kal. I can’t just quit my job and come live here, as attractive as that might sound right now.”

She can tell his frustration is mounting as his expression sets on his lined face. A tired, lonely part of her brain is begging her to just say yes, to let someone else take care of her for once instead of the other way around. She wants to stay with him, wants to feel protected, wanted, valued outside of her work.

What if the Empire did dare invade Mandalore? For some reason it seemed unfathomable until this point, having lived on the planet her whole life with the exception of medical school, she’s used to being surrounded by warriors; the idea of occupation has never even crossed her mind.

She’s seen the stormtroopers in Keldabe, but so far nothing has transpired. Talks with the Empire’s representatives were going well according to the Mand’alor - Fenn Shysa still believed that Mandalore could avoid occupation.

Taglist:

@clonewarslover55 @leias-left-hair-bun @cherry-cokes-world @wolfangelwings

@nelba @passionofthesith @808tsuika

#Republic Commando #Kal Skirata #OC #my writing #At Odds #At Odds 3

57 notes · View notes

coeurdastronaute · 4 years

Text

Essays in Existentialism: Polo 3

Previously on Polo

The sun was glaring; absolutely murdering the entirety of the world in the noontime shine of a clear day in the early spring. The heat couldn’t come just yet, still not allowed due to larger forces like the tilt of the planet and the distinct absence of a certain player, yet to be seen despite a not-so-covert glance at the pitch during warm ups. The entire event was going to be the largest of its kind, and it was like the world knew it, opening itself up and shining all of the kindest wishes on the sport, as a large herd of watchers made their way to find a place to watch.

The tents were stocked with alcohol and snacks, people in hats and those who were there because they were supposed to be. But along the pitch, bleachers filled up with anyone who wanted to watch, creating an atmosphere of joy and excitement that’d been lacking at the private matches.

There really wasn’t a reason to be there. Clarke had more than fulfilled her daughterly duty for the entire year with her increasingly frequent showings at events for both of her parents. She chalked it up to growth, and becoming a better person, to make an effort, to try her best to show her mother that she was happy for her, and to prove to her father that she was deserving of her name, even if that meant trudging through society things in lieu of his wife.

But seeing as Kane’s opening of the Gauntlet of Polo opening day party was not her mother’s, nor was it something she felt compelled to do to represent her father, Clarke had no true reason to go other than because Kane was nice enough to invite her, and she truly had nothing else to do.

“So where’s the hot polo playing Argentinian underwear model who recites you poetry and fucks you in stables?”

Clarke grit her teeth before sighing and shaking her head, giving her best friend a look that should equal death, if she’d been luckier.

“What?” Raven shrugged. “I want to get a good look at the girl that convinced you to be okay with your parents divorce. I’m sure there are over-paid therapists who would kill to know how to do it.”

“She didn’t--”

“And made you nicer in general to your parents. And me. And your life is less chaotic now-- I’ve noticed you are volunteering. That must be some of the worlds most powerful puss--”

“Kane! Mom!” Clarke interrupted her friend’s tangent, thankfulness apparent in her voice as she found the host and hostess.

Her mother was always beautiful, but Clarke began to see how much nicer happiness looked on her, and as much as she claimed to always love her father, there was a girlish spark that came when Abby was near Marcus. It took Clarke long enough to put aside her feelings to see it, but when she did, she couldn’t have been happier, despite the occasional bitterness about what was lost. It was Lexa’s stupid notions of love that messed with her brain and her ability to hold a grudge.

There’d been a truce between herself and Kane, reached gently and treated very cautiously, but still, it remained. She had dinner with them just a week ago when they were in the city, and it wasn’t entirely painful. As much as she wanted to dislike Marcus Kane, she couldn’t bring herself to do it because he was just… nice. And he made Abby smile in a way that Clarke didn’t realize she hadn’t seen in a while.

The real benefit of all of this love and joy being that while Abby got to live her best truth, it meant less comments about Clarke’s “wasted potential,” and there was a bigger focus on her art, which led to less stress with their average communications.

“Oh, honey you made it,” Abby smiled and hugged her daughter, kissing her cheek quickly, squeezing her shoulders. “I didn’t think we’d find you in all this.”

“Believe it or not,” Clarke explained as she accepted a quick hug from her mother’s boyfriend. “It’s easy to find the guy who owns a team in a tournament sponsored by his company.”

“I’ve been looking and couldn’t find you.”

“I took Raven to see the ponies.”

“Look at that,” Kane grinned. “She’s using proper jargon already.”

“Clarke’s given me a quick rundown, but I don’t know if I trust her expertise yet,” Raven offered after all pleasantries were exchanged. “Care to teach me, Kane?”

“The more the merrier,” he smiled wider, like a kid in a candy store, surrounded by people who wanted to listen to him explain his favorite sport. “We better go find a good spot. It’ll start soon.”

Raven turned and gave Clarke a wry grin before linking her arm with Kane’s as she maneuvered them through the crowd. Clarke let her mother squeeze her and follow along a few steps behind.

“It means a lot that you’ve tried to take an interest in something that Marcus finds important,” Abby offered as they meandered along.

“Just a good reason to be outside, and Raven loves selling rich people her programs and things,” Clarke dismissed her effort for anything benevolent as she grabbed a flute of champagne gratefully. “I’m fairly certain that’s the only reason she keeps me around.”

“Whatever the reason. It means a lot to me. I know it wasn’t easy to find out--”

“We don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” Abby relented. “You just never cease to amaze me is all. Marcus is important to me, and you’ve taken the time to get to know him, just like I’m sure you would when your father starts--”

“Dad won’t date anyone else.”

The words came out a little bit too harsh, and Clarke wasn’t sure why she felt so protective of her father’s refusal to get over a broken heart.

“He will eventually, and believe it or not, no matter how he feels about Marcus and even me right now, seeing you be open to our happiness will make it easier.”

“I guess I’m just a saint.”

It was meant to be a joke, but Clarke felt suddenly a little guilty. They took their seats beside Kane and Raven, and Clarke looked out on the pitch, wondering if she would be there at all if it hadn’t been for the oddest addiction she somehow developed for a stupid girl who argued with her every time she saw her.

She might not even get to see Lexa today. She might only see her on the pitch. And would that be a waste? Should she think about this perfect stranger as often as she did and look forward to this stupid even for the past three weeks? Was she proving Lexa’s points right about lust and love and soulmates? Did she believe in something like soulmates? How could she? And what did it matter. Wasn’t this a lot to do just for sex? Very, very, very good sex, but still--

“You’re not zoning out already, are you, Clarke?” Kane smiled and waved his hand in front of her face, bringing her back to reality.

“Just listening, making sure I remember everything.”

Raven gave her a look.

“Now tell me about your team. Clarke was telling me all about how skilled the one… what was her name?”

“Lexa,” Kane offered excitedly, before Clarke could bring herself to utter the name. “She is incredibly skilled. I’ve never seen someone ride with such passion. She is so fluid, covering everything, seeing plays before they happen. And she’s got this passion in her blood for the sport. She hits hard, and takes a licking-- Are you okay?”

Only when Kane stopped talking did Clarke realize she’d spilled her glass, letting it tilt back toward her chest as she remembered exactly how passionate and fluid and licking that Lexa had been. The cool liquid froze her chest, dripping down her front as she hurried to pat it dry.

“Fine, fine. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Off in another world,” he offered politely.

“This girl has her head in the stables,” Raven joked, though only Clarke understood it. “I get now why Clarke’s so passionate about those ponies. You are a hell of a salesman, Kane.”

“This is something that costs me money. Imagine what I can do with something I want to make money off of.”

They shared a laugh and Clarke joined in, only half paying attention as the team was announced and she caught the now familiar jerseys making their way to the center for the start of the match.

There was an air to the polo player, helmet on, stoic and sitting tall as she stood beside her fellow teammates, her horse still as she was. Lexa listened politely to the anthem, she listened to the announcer, but she didn’t move more than necessary. It was by a stroke of luck that she found Clarke in the crowd, though Clarke wouldn’t agree anything was lucky about it, because now she had to sit in the stands after getting the full weight of Lexa’s glance. Only slightly did Clarke notice the pull of one corner of Lexa’s mouth and the fire behind her eyes. It made her gulp.

Lexa didn’t look away the entire time and neither did Clarke. She didn’t have to say anything. They both knew.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was an actual match, and a hard fought one to begin the Gauntlet that would last the next few months, and Lexa ached in the most delicious kind of ways after the win. Over the next week she’d have to win five more to hoist the first cup, collect the first purse, and move onward in hopes of completing the perfect Gauntlet, winning all three cups, and collecting the bonus purse that would triple her yearly income.

No pressure at all when trying to impress a girl who was set to inherit billions. With a B.

Showered and cleaned up, Lexa made it to the crowds in time to catch part of the second match. The sun was dimming, fading into the trees, giving a bit of a sunset despite the lights that shined over the pitch. It was a perfect evening for polo, and Lexa felt it, still riding the high of her win and feeling the limitless possibility of the next few months.

It didn’t hurt that she caught a certain girl’s eyes before it started and put on a show. No, Lexa didn’t think about that at all.

There was absolutely no way she had a chance with someone like Clarke, prize purse be damned. Lexa was the person who got a taste-- who was used for the pleasure of someone who had other responsibilities. In all of her dealings with people like Kane, with people like Clarke, she knew she was an interloper; destined to be a tagalong, someone who was never quite part of their world. Those were the things that she thought about after that momentary rush of seeing Clarke-- an intense loss at never having her completely.

She didn’t look for Clarke in the tent with the other donors because she could feel her. It would take her a moment to get back to being okay with being a plaything. It had its perks, and it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, to be someone who only got a taste when that taste was delicious. Lexa was okay with the being just a fling, if only her heart would listen and not get in over its head.

“You, in that dress,” Lexa whispered as she approached a bare back, the navy blue of the dress, dipping along spine, hanging on shoulders. “Has all of my attention.”

“Are you sure?”

Lexa half-smiled and grabbed a flute of champagne, handing it to the woman beside her before taking one for herself. Only then did she allow herself to look at Clarke, meeting blue eyes and lips she desperately wanted to kiss already, after exactly one second of being within her orbit.

“It’s becoming a problem, princess. You look too distracting in everything.”

“Maybe you should stop looking?”

“Would you like me to stop?”

With her words, Lexa shifted closer, and Clarke felt it. Their bodies moved around, hovering and refusing to touch though desperately wanting to feel the next. Clarke licked her lips and looked up from beneath her lashes while Lexa looked over her cheekbones as she took a sip and played with the stem of her glass.

“It’s been three weeks. You didn’t try to find me?”

“I’ve been busy training,” Lexa tried, unsure of if she was supposed to find Clarke. She never knew it was an option. “And I didn’t… Three weeks, and were you preparing for a Gauntlet?”

“You were the one that was trying to convince me to fall in love with you.”

“Or lust.”

“Right, or lust,” Clarke nodded. “I couldn’t find you. That’d just prove you right.”

“And we wouldn’t want me to be right, would we?”

Despite herself, Clarke smiled, small and there. She blushed a little, right beneath her jaw, near her earlobes. Lexa gorged herself on it.

“If you’re right, you get all of the power. I can’t give you that.”

“But it would be great if you did. I promise to be a benevolent overlord.”

“What if I don’t know how to be kept?” Clarke asked after a moment of quiet. It was the most honest thing she’d said in their time together.

Lexa reached forward to touch her, finally. She ran her finger along her forearm, and she paused at Clarke’s wrist, running her thumb along the small protrusion there. She watched her fingers move against Clarke’s skin.

“I’m good at being still. I’ve broken more wild things than you, princess.”

As she stood there, Clarke felt Lexa’s warmth, and she wondered to which level they were speaking, because almost accidentally, she’d confessed one of her truly darkest fears, that she wasn’t one to be in love, that she didn’t know how, that she wasn’t sure she was worth being looked at like Lexa looked at her, whether it be love or lust of something between.

“I completely mean to interrupt whatever is happening over here,” a voice rang out, oddly cheerful and not at all in line with the tone established.

Lexa retracted her hand quickly, finishing the rest of her champagne as a result of compensating for the movement. Clarke stood up, her body language becoming alert and afraid. There was the shame, Lexa saw and pretended to ignore, of being caught with someone like her.

“Hell of a game you played out there, Lexa,” the new woman explained as she grabbed them another round of drinks from a passing tray.

The crowd cheered for whatever was happening on the pitch, and Lexa looked toward it in hopes of finding a reason to escape, the trance of Clarke Griffin broken for a moment.

“And I heard all about how amazing your play was from Kane. Clarke couldn’t keep her eyes off of you, and I have to say, I get it now.”

Lexa found her interest turning back to this shorter, nonplussed member of their group, her interest piqued as she recognized a fellow interloper, although someone who seemed to own it much better and in a way she almost envied.

“I wasn’t--” Clarke began before taking a breath, earning a grin from her friend. “Lexa, this is Raven, my best friend dating back from elementary school, so please don’t hold it against me.”

“I couldn’t. She seems to have such great taste if polo players,” Lexa grinned, extending her hand. “Lexa Woods. It’s a pleasure to meet you--”

“Raven,” she offered, shaking it heartily. “I’ve heard many things.”

“All good, I hope.”

“Mythical, some might say.”

Clarke coughed and cleared her throat until her friend returned the hand it’d been shaking and went back to sipping her champagne. Lexa felt her chest puff a bit, and she couldn’t help it.

“I should go make the rounds,” she finally offered as the two ancient friends glared at each other, having an entire conversation. “I’m sure Kane has some constructive criticism, and plans for the next matches. I hope I see you both around, and thank you for coming to support us.”

“It was nice to see you again,” Clarke offered with a slight nod.

Brazenly, Lexa leaned forward, placed her hand on the small of Clarke’s back so that her thumb could touch the bare skin of her spine. She kissed her cheek.

“I hope you choose to find me, princess,” she whispered. “I love wild things as they are.”

Lexa pulled away quickly and shook Raven’s hand again.

“It was nice to meet you, Raven. I hope Kane didn’t bore you terribly.”

“Not at all,” she returned. “I hope to come to more, if Clarke will invite me.”

But Clarke didn’t answer, just stared at Lexa until she nodded and walked away, fading into the crowd in search of her benefactor.

“Holy shit she’s hot up close,” Raven finally offered after a moment where Clarke downed her champagne. “Like. Insanely hot. Superhuman hot. And when she did that thing, that being so close to you but not touching you thing. Damn. And then, I think she practically was undressing you with her eyes when I walked up. I’ve never seen eyeballs look like murder, but hers were coming for me.”

“You see what mean, right?”

“Yeah, you have a problem there,” her friend agreed as Clarke finally took a breath and nodded weakly. “I’d have to go for it.”

“Yes. Without a doubt.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Even though there was an entire week of matches for the tournament, Lexa still waited for a girl to appear, to make the move, to find her. She knew that it had to be Clarke who appeared, who made the move because she was the one who was most afraid. It was supposed to be a joke, but Lexa knew it was the most honest thing about her to admit that she was already in love with the stranger.

She knew nothing about Clarke, not really, and yet she felt like she understood her on a cosmic level, an inherent kind of language they both spoke, that defied time. Lexa craved that poetry, and perhaps it was the works of the great romantics that she kept reading and clouding her brain with such notions, but she couldn’t help it. It seeped into her very DNA.

The week led to the first win out of three for the Gauntlet, and Lexa hoisted the cup valiantly, happy that she was worth her weight in gold, as Kane liked to explain. And after all of it, after they made the trip home, and she made sure the stables were taken care of and schedule made for the following day, Lexa sat on the porch to her small home about five miles from the horses, and she opened a bottle of beer.

The night was colder than the day, giving off the heat and letting the warmth disappear with the sun, but it was a clear night, the moon bright above, casting moonbeam shadows in the tall grasses and from the fence posts. She could have lived in the city, gotten a place an enjoyed the splendor of her generous paychecks, but Lexa had a need to be near her ponies and to be close to the games. She wouldn’t commute if she didn’t have to, and she wouldn’t allow herself any distractions.

And then headlights appeared in her driveway, following the gravel up toward the converted cabin.

She stood and tapped her beer against her thigh as she leaned against the railing, squinting into the light in hopes of figuring out who was going to bug her after a rather long week and an impressive win.

She wasn’t in a dress. She was in an old jacket and jeans as she shoved her hands in the back pockets and made her way around the car once it turned off. It really was becoming a problem, because every time Lexa saw her, she was distracted. She really didn’t think about the car and how many questions she had about the absolutely devastating piece of machinery.

Instead, she took another sip and smiled.

“Congratulations,” Clarke offered.

“Did you watch?”

“I didn’t, but I heard.”

“Good news travels fast.”

Despite her initial burst of courage, Clarke paused near the stairs, looking up at the polo player, the lights from the glowing windows giving her a little bit of color. Lexa didn’t move to fix the height gap between them, instead, waiting for Clarke to make the moves. It was her porch, but it was Clarke’s rules, and she wasn’t sure she’d trained wilder things than Clarke Griffin, but she was a tamer of beasts.

“I found you,” Clarke offered, as she took a step.

“You did. I’m not hard to find though.”

“I think we should applaud the effort,” Clarke grinned, stepping up another until she was just one below. “I was impressed with your win. You must be happy.”

“I’m honestly happier that you’re here right now than the trophy.”

“Are you going to show me your home?”

“I don’t want to move,” Lexa offered as Clarke stood in front of her now. “I’m afraid you’ll bolt the moment I do.”

“I showed up. I made the move,” Clarke sighed, looking at her lips. “You have to teach me the rest.”

“Three conversations for you to fall in love with me,” she grinned, closing the distance and moving so she was touching Clarke, pressed against her front. “I can work with that.”

“Lust.”

“For now.”

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kumeko · 4 years

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A/N: For the @durararazine! I love Celty and Shizuo’s relationship, so I had to do something with them. I also wanted to put in some Anri since she needs some good things in her life. The zine is have a leftover sale now!

…

1. Dusk

“Can we…” Anri hesitated, her voice low and soft. In the evening traffic, Celty strained to hear her polite, clipped tone, each word pronounced as though they had a weight to them. “Can we sit over there?”

Celty’s hands were already on her motorcycle handles, her foot ready to kick off. Processing the request a second time, she turned to Anri in surprise. This was not how it usually went. She had dropped Anri home for weeks now and this was definitely not how it went. [Is something the matter?]

“No…I…” Anri’s eyes lowered to the ground, her hands clasped in front of her. Usually at this point, she’d give a bow, a practiced 45 degrees, before waving goodbye. A stiff smile and professional demeanor as she closed their business transaction. “I just want to ask you something.”

[Of course.] Celty swung off her bike, excited. Perhaps they would have one of those ‘girl talks’ she’d read so much about. Surrounded by a sea of males no matter where she turned, Celty rarely had another woman to talk to. Or a girl, in this case.

“Thanks.” Anri smiled briefly before leading the way across the street to the nearby playground. While the sun had started to set, painting the sky in pastel colours, elementary kids still laughed and chased one another over the slides. Several benches surrounded the sandboxed lot and Anri sat down on one, her legs neatly crossed beneath her. Watching the kids, she commented offhandedly, “I came here once. As a child.”

[Just once?] Celty asked, curious.

Anri’s expression carefully passive, she shrugged. Her eyes never left a mother picking up her toddler, gently cradling him as she headed home. “Maybe.” Her hands curled into her skirt and she lowered her eyes. “Knowing my parents, I might have just imagined it.”

A difficult childhood. Celty wasn’t sure if that constituted girl-talk. [Do you want to play now?]

At that, Anri blinked in surprise. Breaking into a soft laugh, she shook her head. “No, I’m a little too big.” Fiddling with her fingers, she glanced at Celty. “I never properly thanked you, for everything you did.”

That was a surprise. Celty felt warm as her fingers flew over her keyboard. [It’s nothing.]

“It wasn’t. Not to me.” Anri paused, watching another family leave. A little girl holding her parents’ hands. “I never really relied on someone. Before then. It’s a new feeling.”

[I’m just glad you’re safe. It was very scary finding you covered in blood!] Celty tapped in response. She shivered, remembering the red eyes, the sharp knives that even cut her. It had been terrifying dealing with Saiko’s children. [I’m not sure if it’s worse that it wasn’t your blood.]

“I’m sorry about that.” Anri stared at her lap thoughtfully. Her lips tugged up into a small smile, another unusual thing. “But…really. Thank you. Ever since that day…there’s been a lot of new things.”

[New things?] Celty asked, hoping beyond hope that it wasn’t another monster. Or aliens. She wouldn’t know what to do if it were aliens.

“Sorrow. Rage. Envy.” Anri listed carefully, pausing at each word. “I used to keep them sealed up, shut tight within me. I was afraid of what Saiko would do, of what I’d do, if they were let out. But…I think I can risk it now.”

None of those emotions sounded good. Troubled, Celty asked, [Is that safe?]

“I don’t know.” Anri shrugged. “Another feeling I didn’t have before.” Turning to Celty, she added, “But it’s not all bad. Joy. Peace. Love. I can feel those too now.”

That was reassuring. Celty’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, not sure of what to type. Anri answered that for her, reaching out to grab her hand. “It’s fine, really. If anything happens, you’ll be there to help me, right?”

Celty felt another burst of warmth in her chest. [Of course.]

2. Midnight

“You made it.” Shizuo sat at the edge of the curb, blood dripping down his arm. Next to him was a broken vending machine and a twisted streetlight. A cigarette dangled loosely from his lips as he slowly got up. It was such a stereotypical scene that Celty couldn’t even confirm that this was the first time she’d seen it all night.

[Sorry I’m late.] Celty pulled her motorcycle to the side of the road, hoping off immediately to inspect her friend. At least her gloves were still on his hands, protecting them from bruised knuckles and broken wrists. Prodding his arms and legs, she finally stood back and plucked the cigarette out of his lip. [Are you hurt?]

“I was still using that,” Shizuo grumbled, frowning while she stepped on the used butt. As Celty glared and ground the cigarette even deeper into the ground, he shook his head. “I’m fine. Blood ’s from the other guy.”

[You sure?] Celty asked, wishing it weren’t so dark. It was hard to make out the cuts and rips in his vest and Shizuo had a terrible habit of not recognizing his own pain. She’d taken him to Shinra’s enough times with broken ribs to know better than to trust his I’m fine.

“Swear it.” Shizuo stared at the crime scene behind him with a sigh. “My pay’s definitely getting docked.”

She prodded him one last time before accepting his assessment. [I can help if you need anything. A bed. Food. Cash.]

“Thanks.” He gave her a crooked smile before shaking his head. “Next time, maybe. Should have enough stashed up that I can make ends meet.”

[As long as you’re sure. There’s always room for you, if you need it.] Celty typed quickly, trying to reassure him. [And I’m sure Tom will understand!]

“I’m past understanding with him.” Shizuo sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. Looking up, he stared at the bright lights on the city buildings, the lights that blocked out the night sky. A giant screen on one building flickered between ads and Shizuo inhaled sharply as his brother appeared on the screen. “Huh.”

[He’s in a new movie.] Celty had done her research the second she had learned of their connection. Poured over every magazine article she could find, read all the pages on Wikipedia about him. Eager, she typed, [I hear it’s a spy thriller. First time he’s slated to play a villain.]

“He’s really making it.” Shizuo kicked a stray can and watched it roll down the street at record speed. It crashed into the wheel of a car, crumpling. “That’s good.”

That wasn’t the tone she expected to hear, the shyly proud sound Shizuo made every other time they discussed his brother. Reaching out, she gripped his arm gently. [Is something wrong?]

Shizuo opened his mouth to deny before thinking better of it. Shrugging his shoulders, he stared at the ground and scuffed his shoe. “I don’t know. Maybe. I feel…I don’t know.” Pulling his hands out of his pocket, he flexed his fingers. “I’m only getting stronger. And worse.” He gestured at the wreckage around them. “I doubt he wants to know someone like this.”

Gripping his arm tightly, as though he would bolt if she let go, Celty typed as fast as she could with her thumb. [That’s not true. He definitely cares about you.]

With a snort, Shizuo waved dismissively, gently prying his arm out of her grasp. “I dunno. I wouldn’t want a brother like me.” He picked up a broken stop sign and started twisting the metal as though it he could wrangle the words within him. “He might be better off without me.”

[That’s not true.] She unleashed some of her black smoke around them. [You still want to be friends with me, right? Even though I’m not human.]

“Of course. That doesn’t matter.” Shizuo trailed his hands though the smoke. “Might even be better. Don’t have to worry about hurting you as much.”

[You’re taking care of his cat, right?] Celty gave him a thumbs up. [And you have his number and he called you.]

“Alright, alright.” Shizuo pushed her phone away. “I got it.”

[Really?]

“Really.” He dropped the street sign with a heavy clang. “And if I don’t, you’ll remind me.”

Celty nodded. [Every day, if I have to.]

“That would be annoying.” Shizuo chuckled, running a hand through his hair and pushing his locks back in place. If it weren’t for the blood, he’d look like the bartender he could have been. “Mind giving me a ride?”

[Sure!] Celty eagerly typed, glad to be of some use to her friend. Conjuring up a helmet for him, she tapped her foot pointedly on the ground when he was about to refuse. [Safety! Matters!]

“Fine.” With a grimace, he plopped it on. “It’s like blinders. Too limiting.”

[You don’t need to see anything else. We’re on a ride.] It might be even better if he didn’t—the smallest thing could make him blow up again. As good as it was not to keep things bottled up, their city could only take so much destruction a day. Revving her horse-motorcycle, she asked, [Where to?]

“Good question.” Shizuo swung on the bike behind her, his arms automatically wrapping around her. She could feel his shrug as he rested his helmet on her back. “Somewhere far.”

She understood the feeling. Sometimes, all she wanted was to ride all night, see where the roads took her. Giving him a thumbs up, she pulled out onto the busy streets and roared toward the highway.

3. Dawn

There was something magical about driving through the city in the wee hours, in that space between yesterday and today. In the hours between two and four, the only people out were monsters, insomniacs, and those who thrived on the night.

While Celty was the first, she also belonged with the latter. Pushing down on the gas, she urged her steed to go faster and faster on the deserted streets, barely missing red lights as they charged forward. Above them, the city lights merged into one big line. At one time, it would have been stars and an open sky above her. Now buildings crowded skyline, fighting for her attention. It was amazing how much the world had changed during her wanderings.

Ahead of her was the highway entrance, the closest thing she had to freedom. A place where it was just her and the road. Sometimes she took it and dreamed of never coming back. Of just driving on and on, until the road ended, until her horse tired, until her body stopped yearning for her lost head. If she went far enough, maybe she could forget everything and just settle down for once.

Warm hands were still wrapped around her belly, a hard head on her back. Somehow, despite her reckless driving, Shizuo had managed to fall asleep. There was something grounding about his touch, something real. A hook to this city that would stay deep within her, no matter how far she ran. There were so many of them now: Shinra. Mikado. Masomi. Anri.

They weren’t her head. They weren’t her memories. But maybe, just maybe, that was enough. The ‘Celty’ she was with them was enough. Taking the right, she continued down the city’s roads. Through her home’s roads.

For tonight at least, there was no need to run away.

#durarara #drrr #celty sturluson #shizuo heiwajima #anri sonohara #fanfic

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cubeswhump · 4 years

Text

Defy Fate; Reanimate, part 1: The Pieces of Osiris

Gonna make it clear that I got “Defy fate / Reanimate” from this song. This story takes inspiration from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein but I kinda took the barest base of it and ran wild.

For much of my childhood, I was dead set on being a forensic pathologist. Then I got autistic burnout which turned into a nervous breakdown and had to reevaluate my life plan. I still have a huuuuuge love for forensics/pathology and I finally put it to use. A bit too much use. You’re gonna learn about rates of decay today.

Note: Part 2 is already written and will be posted tomorrow or the day after.

Tagging @more-miserables and @brutal-nemesis

Warning for gore, self-harm (not done from depression or misery), terminal illness, whump of a minor (via flashback), death (death is a whole ass focal point of this story so be warned), drugging, creepy whumper (like super creepy), consensual mildly-NSFW stuff that doesn't go anywhere, semi-professional surgery, dismemberment, disembowelment, general grossness.

Dearil was a constant; Lorelai barely remembered life without him. He showed up in first grade an awkward little boy who didn't speak a word of English and she was the happy helper with dozens of gold stars who took him under her wing. But they grew up and he learned English and gained confidence while Lorelai retreated into her shell.

Dearil seemed the type of kid who would be bullied relentlessly: openly gay, overweight, embraced his feminine side with pinks and purples and earrings, grew his hair longer than any boy at school, could tell you every plot point of Bleach and Naruto but couldn't follow a conversation, did these things with his hands that were later identified as stimming. However, he never held his tongue and had this air of confidence that even the mean kids respected. It was quiet, studious Lorelai they picked on, but no one dared bother her when big Dearil stood next to her. When chemotherapy made him lose his hair when they were sixteen, some classmates even shaved their heads to show support.

They stayed close even Dearil repeated eleventh grade because health complications made him miss so much school. They stayed nest best friends even when Lorelai graduated six months early, when he took a gap year, when Lorelai got into medical school. Even when the dreaded Boyfriebds stuck their feet in.

The two shared an apartment while Dearil worked on a degree in business and Lorelai was kept busy as an assistant in a morgue and full-time student. They had big dreams, but Dearil's were much more feasible: he planned to open a bakery that exclusively hired neurodivergent teens and young adults. Lorelai's plans?

"They only don't want to mix magic and medicine becahse the pharmaceutical companies will lose money!" she growled, glaring daggers at the emailed rejection of her thesis.

"People fear what they don't understand. I mean, science can't explain it and it's pretty fucking crazy," Dearil replied, shrugging. "If I had to explain it, I'd say it's kinda like equivalent exchange in Fullmetal Alchemist, right? I don't really get how it works. But you're smart. You're strong-willed. You'll do great."

She didn't get his anime comparisons, but she could get lost in the sould of his voice. If she could bottle it she would drink nothing else for the rest of her life.

Then another Boyfriend came along and she heard that voice less and less. She hated everything about Frankie: the way he zipped around on that noisy motorcycle (and how dare he wear the only helmet while Dearil rode around unprotected), his spikey hair, his smug smile, his grating laughter, his leathee jackets, his lips on Dearil's.

She refrained from hexing him. She wasn't a bad person who would use witchcraft to cause harm. Her acts were subtle and harmless: placing red rose petals in Dearil's pockets and shoes and placing petunia petals in Frankie's.

"I don't know what the flowers mean but I'm guessing it's some passive-aggressive bullshit," Dearil huffed. "Cut it out."

He got a bit angrier when she tried to cut off a chunk of Frankie's stiff hair. It was just for a bad luck charm, nothing lethal, but she pled the fifth on that one.

"You're like a sister to me," Dearil reminded her that day after Frankieeft. He meant well, but she wanted to scream and cry and break things. But she forced herself to smile.

There was a thought that haunted her every day. She would be the maid of honor, perhaps wearing teal if Dearil's current hair color was anything to go by. She would have to give a speech and congratulate the grooms. Watch them kiss. It should be her under that altar! She should be wearing a white gown and veil!

She resigned to life as a lonely spinster. She'd be married to her job.

That was the worst thing she imagined happening, until life hit her like a truck... and the delivery was a truck.

Dearil was so late getting home again. Any minute now he'd call and tell her he was spending the night with Frankie. And sure enough her smartphone rang, but it wasn't Dearil.

"What's up, Kensia?" she asked, but the only response from Dearil's younger sister was sobbing. Instant dread. "Kensia? Come on, use words. I'm not a mind reader."

So Kensia spoke, and Lorelai would have preferred she didn't. She didn't remember getting off the phone. She didn't remember much of that night at all, but she couldn't forget all of it.

***

She almost didn't go to the funeral. She didn't want to wake up ever again. She thought about joining Dearil. But she got out of his bed, staggered to her bedroom, and searched her closet for appropriate attire.

The black dress was old and wouldn't cover the runes carved into her arms, but what did it matter if someone got uncomfortable? Fuck everyone else. The dress was tight in her waist and she bitterly realized that it would fit soon enough now that Dearil wouldn't be baking sugary treats all the time.

His mother came to greet her dressed in all white. The whole Jean-Pierre family wore white, even Dearil's dad whose wardrobe consisted of grey suits and plain ties. Catheline wrapped her up in a bone-crushing hug and Lorelai wanted to push her away and shout, "I'm not here for you!"

A cheap pine coffin for someone so great. What a disgrace. It was closed too. A closed-casket funeral was the most logical solution but it hirt Lorelai to know she wouldn't see his beautiful face ever again. That beautiful face was pulverized. Even Frankie, who was wearing a helmet, was killed so Dearil didn't stand a chance. He was killed on impact, painlessly.

Painless for who? It hurt so, so much.

She could scarcely hear the spoken eulogies over her own sobs, and declined to give one herself. Dearil's own mother wound up consoling Lorelai throughout the ceremony, rocking the young woman in her arms like a child. No words were shared until the end when Catheline walked Lorelai to her car.

"Traditionally in Haiti, we gather to mourn for nine days. It's a social gathering where we eat and drink and talk, nothing stiff and formal," Catheline explained through her own tears, smoothing Lorelai's messy ponytail. "You're part of the family, cheri. We want you to join us."

Like she wanted to waste her time at some social event. The only thing she wanted to do was lie in Dearil's bed and smell him on his pillow. But she couldn't shut Catheline down like that.

"Why nine days?" she asked.

"That's how long the soul takes to leave the body - that's what we Vodouists believe. We gather for nine days to assire the soul ascends safely and doesn't get stolen away by any petro loas. Evil spirits."

A pause. Lorelai got an odd look on her face. "Was he embalmed? Were his organs donated?"

Disgust flashed across Catheline's face for just a second. She took a deep breath. "We believe that harm dealt to the body after death harms the soul, so we don't usually embalm or donate organs. Dearil did want to donate his organs, you know what he's like, so we respected his wishes. He wasn't embalmed. Why do you ask?"

The question had a bit of an edge. She sniffed and dabbed her eyes.

Lorelai wasn't crying anymore, though her eyes were rimmed with red. "Catheline... If his soul is still on earth, could his body be saved?"

Catheline frowned. "What are you..." Her face contorted with horror. "No! I have nothing against you doing witchcraft, but this is where I put my foot down. Interfering with the soul? My son's soul? Imagine the pain he'd be in! How could you even think of that?"

Lorelai looked away from her. "I'm sorry... I'm just really... I'm not thinking. I wasn't thinking. I wouldn't do anything to harm her."

Cathine took her hands. "Look me in the eye. Promise me, Lorelai. Promise me you won't tamper with anything you shouldn't."

Lorelai sighed, looking into those honest brown eyes, eyes so much like Dearil's. "I promise."

***

She promised, but above-ground burial only existed to tempt grave robbers. It was a blessing; the universe wanted Lorelai to do this.

What wasn't a blessing was the man standing outside the mausoleum. Fucking Catheline must have held her suspicions and reported on them. The guard's head snapped her way, and she bolted.

"Hey!" he shouted. "What do you think you're doing?"

Every step toward her car, every step toward her front door was a knife twisting. She was leaving Dearil behind.

She went to the gathering to keep up appearances. She drank much-needed wine and ate Haitian foods even when she felt like the smallest bite of food would make her vomit. She and Catheline said nothing of their conversation, and the older woman hugged her a bit much for her liking.

The witches in the forums turned on her. They called necromancy evil and her plan foolish.

People like you are why people think so badly of us! wrote WitchBitch666. No one had any tips but MagickalShells wanted updates on her progress.

No one had done anything like this. At least, not in written history. She was completely on her own. But it wasn't the first time she did something crazy woth magic, though the forums were more help the last time.

The migraines. The vomiting. The paranoia. The way he couldn't catch his breath. Finally, the seizures. After the appointment with the neurologist, Dearil had called Lorelai crying.

Four tumors across his brain, all cancerous. Two inoperable, the structures too important and delicate.

Dearil needed her like he did when they were younger, but it wasn't enjoyable this time. The doctors estimated that he had ten months to live. They only offered to attempt to shrink the tumors with chemotherapy and "focus on his quality of life."

He slipped into a coma toward the end, and Lorelai grew desperate.

Lorelai knew little about witches. Heathens, Mama and Pedro called them. They voted for increased limitations on magic at any election - local, statewide, and nationwide. They wanted it to be outlawed entirely.

But she knew witches did things that couldn't be explained with science. Maybe science wasn't everything. So she turned to the forums.

Once a week she would rip off a fingernail with her pliers. She would sneak into Dearil's hospital room and put the fingernail under his mattress, then slice into his hand with a razor blade and draw a rune behind his ear with his blood.

Hospital staff increased security when they found the harm done to his body hand and the blood on his head, but he miraculously woke up after two weeks. He still had cancer, though, and her work wasn't done.

"You've been doing what?" he had cried when he was coherent and cognizant enough to understand, staring at the deep, angry red slash across his palm. She lunged for his hand and he stepped back. "And let me see your fucking nails!"

"Come on, you're dying," she pointed out. "What do you have to lose?"

He cringed, but they both knew she was right. So he would let her take his blood and sleep with finger and toenails under his pillow, though he shuddered to think about. She lost weight and grew pale as he regained what his mother called "bebe fat" and life returned to his eyes. The tumors shrank with each X-ray.

"You're doung this, aren't you?" asked Catheline, very seriously, and Lorelai had paled. But when the teenager bowed her head, Catheline pulled her into a hug. "Thank you, thank you, cheri. But don't kill yourself to save him."

Week eighteen. Lorelai's nails were growing back ever so slowly and terribly brittle. With two toenails left, she had to wonder what offering she would give when she ran out.

But with the next X-ray, it was announced that the boy who was supposed to be dead in mere months was in remission. He walked with a limp because of the damage the tumor did to his cerebellum, but physical therapy got that fixed up. He returned to school, behind a year, and Lorelai became fixated on influencing western medicine to adopt witchcraft, if not becoming the first doctor to use magic on her patients in the United States.

The guard was there the next night, but she made sure she wasn't seen. She linked herself to the ground and, urging him to hurry up and take a bathroom break or something. Dearin's brain was the most important thing to be kept, but the brain is one of the first things to go, ces collapsing just minutes after death. Every minute wasted waiting for this stupid guard was cellular death. Losing her Dearin.

An illusion spell. He ran to investigate the vandals kicking at tombstones and each footfall was like feet stomping on Lorelai's face. She was never so happy to feel pain though.

A spell to unlock the door would be a waste of energy. One of the runes on her chest was already seeping, and she needed to save her blood for tomorrow. She picked the lock and slipped inside as the "vandals" led the guard here and there, running him ragged.

Dearil didn't deserve to be in this house of nobodies. Name after useless name among the granite on the wall until she found a Dearil Jean-Pierre. She pried off the granite slab with her crowbar, and then the concrete under it. She dropped the concrete on her foot and puffed out her cheeks to keep in the profanities. The concrete broke in two, and she expected her throbbing toe did too.

She gripped the sides of his coffin and tugged. It took a minute to budge. Dearil wasn't very tall, and neither was Lorelai, but he was wide and heavy. Her face turned red and she grunted with effort. She jumped back as his coffin fell to the ground. It was still jammed shut, and she wished they still nailed coffins shut. She didn't know what this sealant wasade of, but it was rough.

Running out of time. Guard could come back. Hurry up.

The lid came out, and the smell. Oh god, the smell. She gagged, but it was nothing compared to when her flashlight landed on what was left of her friend.. No, that actually made her swallow back bile.

He was missing one arm, only a little mangled stub remaining in his empty sleeve, but that wasn't the problem. His face, God, his face. The left side was caved in, skin and dreadlocks torn away to reveal the gore. He didn't have much of a left eyebrow, his jaw leaned to one side with missing teeth gaping at her, and what was left of his nose was a bloody pulp with the little stud nosering glinting far from where his nostril was supposed to be. And his eyes, his gorgeous eyes... Grey-blue scleras, left eye protruding from the socket with black spots around the iris.

"Oh god, Dearil..." She rubbed her eyes, willing herself to get a grip.

This was the easy part; all she had to do was transport him. But how was she supposed to fit a 5'7", 185 pound man in an, albeit large, suitcase?

It felt so wrong undressing him. She wanted her first time seeing him nude to be consensual, but not one "yes" left his bloated lips. She tried not to look anywhere inappropriate, flushing under her mask.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she whispered as she produced the bone saw from her gym bag. She held the flashlight in her mouth as she sliced into one thigh.

Rigor mortis had passed and he was soft abd squishy, but the femur was still rock solid. It took a bit of force and then she moved to the other leg. The smell increased tenfold, and ut got even worse when she swutched ti a scalpel and sliced off strips of his wobbly, pudgy belly.

His neck was already broken and any damage could be fixed, so she pushed his chin down to his chest, avoiding looking at those glassy eyes. His remaining arm was okay to stay. It was easy to angle and wrap around his head, and she secured the limb with tape before cramming him into the plastic-lined suitcase.

She put the lid on the coffin and lifted it back into its divot. It was much lighter now, only containing clothes, flaps of skin, and two legs, and there was no evidence if tampering at first glance. She pushed the two concrete halves together and into their place on the wall, shoving the granite slab in after. They kept sliding and threatening to fall, so in the end she went around prying off and smashing dozens of slabs. With so much damage, they won't know where to start, and if they find other caskets unaffected, maybe they won't check his...

This plan was falling apart. No it wasn't. It wasn't, it wasn't!

Connecting her senses to the grounds, she found the guard outside. She held a lighter to her hand, feeling the warmth, imagining a small explosion and fire. Runes bled onto her shirt. The guard ran off to check the exosion at the other side of the graveyard, shouting. Feet trampling her face.

It was just an illusion. She wasn't one for destruction magic or vandalism. Well... The mausoleum said otherwise about vandalism, but as she walked away it was out of sight and out of mind.

She still struggled to lift Dearil into the passenger's seat of her car, having to roll the windows down to deal with the odor. She plugged her phone into the auxiliary cord and played his favorite music. She was never a fan during his life, but now she loved the sound.

She didn't go to their apartment. No, that would be far too predictable. She still had a key to Mama and Pedro's beach house, and when she checked earlier that day she found that they hadn't chamged the locks. It was only an hour's drive and she could make that to and from work, school, home without running out of gas money.

The roar of waves crashing on the shore competed with the obnoxious rumbling of a heavy wheeled suitcase on cobblestone. She got inside and turned on the lights. The table was new, very nice with polished wood. She didn't feel at all remorseful putting Dearil's odorous, leaking body on the pristine surface to operate. Preserving his brain was frst and foremost.

Face-down, his eyes didn't stare at her. She sliced around the top of his scalp, separated the skull, and then sliched straight down to his nape. She severed his optic nerves and then focused on removing the brain. The brainstem had to stay intact, so she removed the uppermost vertebrae it was attached to.

In her hands, she held Dearil's mind, the most important thing she had ever touched. Faintly grey and sagging with a chunk taken from the left. She struggled to figure out what larts were damaged the most. She reslized, with complete horror, that there wasn't musch left of Broca's area. Not his voice! I need to hear his voice! She'd have to fix that.

Wernicke's area looked okay though, so hopefully he would be able to read abd write without problem. His parietal lobe as a whole didn't look so good, and he already jad sensory issues... Hopefully it wasn't too bad.

She wished she could do an X-ray and see how the inner structures had decayed, especially his hippocampi. He needed to remember her!

Focus. She needed to focus on the task at hand. Whatever the damage was, nothing would be fixed if she just stpod there staring.

Her medical school had gotten on board with new postmortem brain preservation techniques. Liquid nitrogen, cryonics, blood substitute. The dust was mixed into the fluid in the tank, and now she allowed Dearil's brain to be submerged. She dripped fresh blood onto the rune under the tank and for just a second, the water glowed.

The human body is home to tens of trillions of microorganisms that keep you healthy. Though these populations are necessary for human survival, a single one getting out of control would be devastating. That's where the immune system comes in, suppressing overgrowth and keeping these populations in check.

But dead people have no immune system; bacteria runs rampant.

Lorai soaked a new mask in winter mint rubbing alcohol and pulled it on, and new gloves. Her goggles and apron stayed on, and sue set to work, starting the scalpel at his shoulder and ending at his breastbone. Mirror the stitch. Slice down his mutilated stomach to the start of his pelvis.

Peeling back the skin, it was clear his liver and gallbladder were no more; his insides were stained yellow-green with bile, and the winter mint did little to mask the smell of ammonia and hydrogen sulfate. She had to get rid of his stomach before the hungry microbes could do any more damage, scarcely breathing as she cracked open his ribcage and transferred internal organs to a garbage bag.

She couldn't exactly drag him outside and hose him down, so so brought him to the downstairs bathroom with the detachable shower head. He was so light now.

She rinsed him with the shower head. Water ran yellow-green, and then finally clear, though his insides still were definitely not a healthy red-pink. She wrapped him up in the fluffiest towel and brought him to the kitchen. She'd removed all the shelves in the refrigerator during her first trip to the house so she had no problems sticking Dearil's mostly empty husk inside.

And then she lit a few scented candles and went to bed.

***

The head medical examiner was a lonely older man. His wife was either dead or left him (Lorelai wasn't sure which, and she didn't care), and his only company was the corpses he sliced open. Lorelai saw the way he looked at her, eyes hungrily taking her image in. In the days after Dearil's accident, she started making moves on him even though it ft so, so wrong.

She smiled at him throughout today's shift. She washed her hair for the first time in days and let it hang lose around her face during her break. She even put on makeup, though it took a few video tutorials to get it loose.

Toward the end of her shift, she sidled up to him, whispering, "Hey, Viktor..."

He glanced at her. "Hm?"

"I'm not wearing any underwear."

He went red up to the tips of his ears.

"Come home with me," she said in a whine, fingers stroking his arm. "I'm staying at my family's summer home. I'm the only one there, all alone and sooo lonely."

"Fuck yes," he breathed.

"You ever have sex on the beach?"

"I'm getting hard just thinking about it."

She forced herself to smile instead of grimacing. "You ever been with a witch?"

"You?" His eyes widened, but then he smiled. "I bet you're magical in bed."

Ew ew ew.

"You've got that right." She placed a hand on the unmarked chest of the man on the table. His skin was the wrong shade of brown, but his hair was perfect. She already had a nose on ice that she'd taken during Viktor's break. It was a bit too dark as well, but it was just the right shape for Dearil. "How about we take this guy with us?"

Viktor recoiled. "Excuse me?"

"Come on, you said you want a magical night. Do something crazy!" she exclaimed. "You don't have to fuck him or anythibg, and we'll have him back by morning. It's not like he'll mind. It's a witch thing."

Viktor put a hand to his salt and pepper hair, eyebrows knitting together. A few emotions clouded his features before he came to a decision. "If you say so. But if we get caught this was your idea."

"Noted. But I promise you'll enjoy yourself."

He helped her wheel out the John Doe on one of the cheaper stretchers no one would miss, faces obscured by masks and a darkness spell. They stuffed the corpse into the tiny trunk of her car. Viktor pressed his lips to hers suddenly, bushy mustache scratching her. He smelled like literal death and whatever offensive oil he rubbed into his mustache so he wouldn't have to smell as much decay.

He couldn't keep his hands to himself during the whole drive, rubbing her thighs, kissong her neck, trying to unhook her bra and getting excited when he found out she wasn't wearing one. She wanted to slap his hands away, shout that her body belonged to Dearil, but this was a necessary step.

Her mind screamed but her lips purred, "Ohh, that feels so good."

He still hadn't settled down when they were taking the Doe into the house. "Talk dirty in Spanish, chica," he murmured.

"I was born in Florida," she sighed. "I don't speak that much Spanish."

"Don't you know any?"

"A bit. Do you?"

"I can say hola and count to ten," he laughed. "My Spanish classes probably ended before you were even alive. Come on, say something."

"Estas... Estas tan muerto," she said. "Eres solo, uh, um... un peón."

"That's so hot," he moaned, and she bit her cheek to keep from laughing.

Viktor's smile became a frown when they walked into the house. He set the John Doe on the table while Lorelai went and locked the door. He quickly sniffed his shirt when she wasn't looking, but the smell wasn't coming from him. And the bed in the adjacent living room was a bit of an odd choice, though he could appreciate the silk and headboard. And the ropes. This was gonna be a fun night.

Lorelai came back, a smile playing on her lips. She put a hand to his chest. "Come closer, Señor. Permítame whisper in your ear."

He leaned close, his smile tentative now. Her lups were so close they tickled him just as a sharp pain struck his neck.

"I never liked you," she whispered, pressing the needle in harder as he tried to pull away. He shoved her away and staggered back, staring at the clear fluid still in the syringe.

"What the fuck did you just do to me, you crazy bitch?" he screamed, clutching bis neck. Her smiling, round face had gone hard and cold, expression neutral.

"Oh, calm down. It's just lorazepam," she said. "They use it on unruly patients all the time. It's probably the safest injectable sedative."

Ge hit out at her but she easily dodged the sluggish attack. She pushed him down onto the bed, tying up his wrists. He still kicked his legs until she tied his ankles too. He was finally silent when she wrapped the duct tape around his head and moury several times.

"Don't look at me like that," she said, tying ger hair back. "Alexa, play Bury Me at Makeout Creek by Mitski, full album."

It's beautiful out today

I wish you could take me upstate

To the little place you would tell me about

"When you'd sense that I'd want to escape," Lorelai sang over the muffled screams and shouts, pulling on her mask, goggles, gloves, and apron. Viktor could only stare at the saws, scalpels, drills, and needles that she left on the table before she disappeared into another room.

No one could hear him scream.

#whump #whump fic #whump writing #surgical whump #medical whump #magical whump #tw self harm #self harm tw #torture #torture tw #female whumper #female whump #male whump #male whumpee #female whumpee #tw death #death tw #creepy whumper

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lynneshobbydomain · 4 years

Text

Date Night (OwaMiki 2020 Day 3)

Prompt: Date/Kiss

Rating: T

Summary: It’s always nerve wracking on the first date, but surely something good will come out of it.

You read under the cut or at my AO3

Mondo was leaning against his motorcycle as he waited for Mikan to come out of the girl’s dormitory, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, he wasn’t sure if she was going to appreciate this...he honestly hadn’t expected to get as far as he did. Of course asking her out had been a disaster, and he forgot that she had been a victim of a different kind of yelling. Of course, it ended it tears, misunderstandings, and a belief that it was never going to happen. He was just shocked when she approached him with her phone number and told him that it would be easier. It had been. She didn’t stammar so much and was easy to read, and she couldn’t tell if he was yelling or not. It didn’t mean that they didn’t call each other. The call log was full of their conversations. He would get excited and his voice would be loud, and she was quiet and forced him to strain his ears to understand what she was saying. They learned. They figured it out...and now he was leaning against his ride, trying to breathe normally as he waited anxiously for his woman to show up.

How long did it even fucking take to put on a dress? Mondo wasn’t about to rush her. She was probably in much of a panic as he was standing outside her dormitory. He wasn’t willing to fuck this up. He wasn’t willing to make this night turn into another disaster. He was just about to see if she was still taking her time or if she forgot when he heard the door creak open and he looked up.

God she cleaned up nice. That lacy pink dress was form fitting, showing just enough of her chest to get an idea. She didn’t wear heels, which was a huge sigh of relief. Her hair was pulled back in a half ponytail and had uneven curls. Someone must have done her make up, they only did a little bit with making her lips pinker than usual and lined the eyes. She grinned at him and rushed towards him. Mondo, already foreseeing what was going to happen, jogged towards her and caught her just before she tripped. “Hey babe.” He grinned as he steadied her. “You look sharp.”

“Hahah. Th-thank you. Yo-you look go-good too.” He was wearing the Crazy Diamond’s jacket, but he decided to wear something underneath rather than nothing. He wanted to be able to take the jacket off and still look like a king. She peered over his shoulder and she went still as a toothpick. “We’re riding?”

“Yeah! It’ll be fun! Trust me.” Mondo grinned, gently wrapping his arm around her. Don’t fuck up, don’t fuck up, he chanted in his mind as he guided her over towards the ride. It was one of his favorites. The Kawasaki was custom made to his tastes, and Kazuichi didn’t seem to mind fixing it up for him from time to time he thought of an new idea. The dark sleek paint reflected the lights around the courtyard like stars in the night sky. He couldn’t wait for her to see what those lights could look like underneath blue and red.

Not that he planned on getting caught with her. That’d ruin the date and his pride. But he could at least show it to her through the neon of the city.

Nice save.

“M-maybe I should’ve wo-worn pants or som-something?” Mikan mused. “I didn’t th-think.”

“You’re fine babe.” Mondo assured. “You look good and we ain’t goin’ do anything crazy, alright? Breathe. Nothin’s gonna happen.”

She grinned, a pretty pink on her cheeks and Mondo felt his own cheeks burn in response. Her smile was always the one thing that could freeze and melt him all at the same time. “Th-then I’m in your han-hands.” She proclaimed and he helped her onto the back of his bike. “Do I, do I need to know anyth-anything special?”

“Lean the direction I’m leaning but don’t do it too much.” Mondo instructed. “Just balance with me.” He normally didn’t ride with a helmet on, but with his girl on the back there was just no way he was going to take a chance. He went into the back of the bike and popped the small storage unit to take out the helmet. He shoved it onto her, making her squeak and he adjusted it so that it would stay snug against her. “Sorry for ruining your hair.”

“It-it’s ju-just hair.” Mikan protested. “I’ll be f-fine. Sh-shouldn’t y-you be wearing this th-though?”

“Nah.” Mondo grinned at her, “I’m not the Ultimate Biker Gang Leader for nothing! Let’s go!” He tossed his leg over the side of the bike and grinned as Mikan immediately wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing herself tight against him for balance and security. He revved the bike up and without another word, zoomed off into the night.

The date went as smooth as butter, in Mondo’s mind. He wasn’t willing to spend money on anything extravagant, and Mikan didn’t mind going to some of his favorite places either. She was more than willing to hold his hand or his arm, and he made sure to keep it open and free for her to claim so that she would at least have something to cling to if she was going to fall. The conversation was easy too. All in all, Mondo had a very good feeling about this.

He parked the bike up against the railing of the bridge. No one was heading anywhere, and the view was fantastic. They were able to see the city and the lights, and watch them glitter on the river’s running current. The breeze picked up and a couple of strands brushed against Mikan’s face, framing her cheeks and catching the light from the streetlamps.

For just one moment, Mondo truly thought he was staring at an angel of sorts. He never thought he’d see a girl look good like this. There was just...something about this scene and this moment he swore brought something out of her that he didn’t see in the school or at the restaurant.

She was really, truly good looking.

“Yo-you kn-know I woul-wouldn’t min-mind meeting your friends one day.” Mikan spoke after a moment. Mondo had to strain to hear her through the river rolling underneath them. “You se-seem to be a very good le-leader.” She beamed at him. “Yo-you take a lot of responsibility. It’s not e-easy.”

“I don’t mind it.” Mondo shrugged as he wrapped his arms around the railing and leaned forward. He glanced at her again and she kept that smile on her face. She looked peaceful. Relaxed. She wasn’t stressed out and timid like she was during school. “I’m sure as hell they wouldn’t mind meeting you.” Considering how often they ribbed him about having a crush on the girl, he didn’t doubt it. Not once.

Mikan giggled and she brought her hands together in front of her chest, pleased as punch. “We sh-should do this again.” She said after a moment. “I didn’t th-think I would li-like riding so much. Yo-you made it a lot of f-fun!”

“Really?!” Mondo perked up a little as he pushed himself back up to standing. “Sweet! There’s so many places where I can take ya then! There’s a few places that I know that are just kickin.”

“Th-then we have a date.” Mikan grinned at him. “Ho-how did you ge-get into riding anyway? If! If I can ask!”

Mondo’s good cheer damped slightly, but if she was going to be his girl then there was no point in lying. He went back to leaning against the railing, trying to think on how to word. “My brother Daiya got me into it. The Crazy Diamonds were his first. He had a good head on his shoulders. He was faster than me. Stronger than me. I admired him. He was a fucking luantic though sometimes. The things he could do on the bike...I can only dream of doin’ now.”

“I-I’m sorry.” He felt a light touch on his shoulder and he glanced up to see that Mikan approached him on her own. Her hand gently rested on his shoulder, and her other hand was gripping her chest like she was trying to keep her heart inside. Was she nervous? About being so close to him, or was she just...trying not to panic and wonder if she had said something wrong? “Yo-you seemed sad.”

“Yeah. It’s hard to talk about. It doesn’t matter now. Bro’s dead and gone...and….now it’s up to me to make sure our gang still holds together. It’s been a damn good blast. Nothin’s gonna change that. Not graduation, not nothin’.” Mondo assured as he stood up. “I was talkin’ to Makoto the other day about what I’d do after graduation. Most of the gang’s gonna be outta high school then. We all got things we gotta worry about. The fuckin’ future and shit. You know. The stupid things.”

“Is it really that stu-stupid?” Mikan questioned and Mondo looked at her curiously. “Priorities ch-change yes. Bu-but that doesn’t mean you sho-should give up what ma-makes you happy. The-there are probably still y-younger kids tha-that’ll want to be ap-part of your gang.”

Mondo blinked slowly.

“Yo-you can hold a jo-job and st-still have fun!” Mikan continued. “D-do something fo-for a job an-and do the bik-bikes at ni-night or something. Yo-you can-can’t live on just a j-job alone. It’s not mentally healthy and you’re going to get physically sick if you only focus on one aspect of your life. There’s a reason why hobbies are such an important thing to those in the hospital and for people outside of it.”

“That wouldn’t bother you?” Mondo asked firmly as he turned his attention completely onto her. She gasped a little and stepped back. “Me doin’ my bikes and holdin’ down a job? That wouldn’t bother you?”

“N-no.” Mikan looked a little confused, but she was sincere in her stance. “I-I think that you should do what makes you ha-happiest.” She nodded after a moment. “I do medicine as a job y-yes, but I do ot-other things too. One p-part of you shouldn’t de-define the whole you. Hajime-kun ta-taught me that when I was s-starting Hope’s Peak. I was….I was so much wo-worse than I am n-now. I was so s-scared of other people’s op-opinons of me. I sti-still am! But...I’m ge-getting better.”

Mondo remembered when he saw her trip in the courtyard during lunch. How she fell and her friends didn’t bat an eye at her misery. How she didn’t mind the mockery or the teasing. She was still friends with them, oddly enough. Mondo doubted he understand their dynamic completely, but he trusted Mikan with her own decisions and friendships. He just had to be there for her when things went south as they sometimes did.

“I got real lucky with you.” Mondo concluded, and Mikan blinked. “Most girls wouldn’ want their man out ridin’. Too dangerous and it’s easy to get yourself fucked up if you ain’t careful.”

“W-well…” Mikan trailed off. “If you got h-hurt somehow...I’ll be able to tr-treat you.”

“Seriously?! You’d do that? Mikan you’re a doll ya know that?!”

“Hahaha I’m not do-doing anything spec-special!” Mikan laughed, a little nervously but Mondo pulled her into a tight embrace anyway.

“Nah, you’re pretty fuckin’ special.” Mondo disagreed as he let her go. She had such a pretty smell. Floral of some type. It wasn’t sickly sweet or overly strong either. He wondered if it was perfume or her own natural scent. She smiled up at him and for one moment the world just stopped turning. The conversation no longer really mattered.

She was….

Really pretty. She had a good heart. She was caring, compassionate. She wanted to support and he wanted to support her. He cupped her cheek with his hand and allowed the moment to push him forward. To kiss her like he should’ve done when he saw her underneath the street lights the first time.

She didn’t pull away frightened or shocked. She pulled herself into the kiss too, as though she was also underneath the night’s spell. When they pulled away, Mondo felt like there was something new just right there. His heart never raced so fast since a bike race or a good ride. “Let’s get ya back.” Mondo said softly.

“Okay.” Mikan grinned at him and he reveled in the feeling of her arms wrapping around his waist again, holding him close. But this time, Mondo swore there was something different in the grip and the way she leaned against him. It made his heart burst into his chest.

Yeah. He gripped the handlebars tight. This was much better than any fuckin’ race.

#owamiki week 2020 #owamiki week #owamiki #mondo oowada #mikan tsumiki #first dates #first kiss #language #dangnaronpa #thh #sdr2 #dangnaronpa fanfic

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bruciewayne · 5 years

Text

5 minutes

stevetony post-avengers, 2012 era, getting together, fluff, 2.2k

for ‘steve rogers’ on @iron-man-bingo

At first, Tony didn’t know what to think of Steve Rogers. Actually, that’s a bald-faced lie. He knew exactly what to think of him; arrogant, pigheaded, stubborn, and of course, nothing like the stories. At all. But apparently, he’s been under the influence of Loki’s sceptre (yeah, that guy from Norse mythology who fucked a horse (Tony’d went on a week-long wiki-venture in the middle of writing his thesis. It’d been a tough time.)), so it didn’t count, he’d apologised after.

They did say ‘never meet your heroes’ after all.

When he was younger, he was so sure that if he ever got to meet Captain America he’d hug him, thank him for his service. When he grew up, he promised himself that if they ever found him, he would deck his probably-perfect teeth. Adult-Tony does neither.

Adult-Tony keeps his distance. He so badly wants to punch him, because of everything his father said, but he feels as though he should wait until he has actual, reasonable grounds to punch him, things he’s done, not what his father did. The fact that his face would most likely break his hand also factors into his decision of simply shaking his hand when they part ways.

They’ve had a couple of small, quiet moments, mostly amidst battle, that make Tony think that maybe he’s not an asshole, and maybe he could get to know him, but at the end of the day, Tony really doesn’t know what to think of him, he’s good in the field, he’s a good leader, but outside of that, he doesn’t really know him. At all.

Thanks to dear old Nick, that changes, fast.

Well, about half a year after New York, maybe a month after his whole Mandarin/Killian. He spends the time ‘bettering himself’ and getting on and out and back in and then permanently out of a relationship with Pepper. On one hand, he hasn’t been all too productive (making, then destroying dozens of suits cancels each other out, really), on the other, it makes him a prime target for Fury to shoot at.

“You told me the Initiative was scrapped,” Tony says. He can’t believe he actually went to SHIELD for this. He, by choice (like, 21% choice) went into SHIELD HQ, to talk to their resident pirate. About letting five strangers move into his tower.

“You assumed the Initiative was scrapped, assumptions just make an ass of you and me, Stark, you know that,” Fury says, evenly, “you have the space and the funds. Stark, you know that something like Loki is going to happen again, the best way to prepare for that is like this, all of you under one roof, learning to become a team.”

“Your little boyband saved New York, once, by the skin of our teeth, and now you want us to protect the word.”

“Your boyband, and you lot aren’t the only people in my phonebook. Look, all I want is for you to become a team, for the future,” Fury pushes a manila folder to Tony across the desk.

The Avenger’s Initiative

“Fine. You owe me,” Tony concedes, leaving the room. He doesn’t take the file.

Within a week, he has two more assassins under his roof, with the next he has another scientist (a biologist). It’s awkward, for a bit, everyone staying in their own corners, so to speak, until Agent Bart-- Hawke-- Clint proposes weekly movie nights (Tony just thinks that he wants an excuse to watch movies (they’re going to be very good friends)) and much of the awkwardness dissipates.

It’s fascinating really, they know each other so well on the field, they work seamlessly together, but put in a civvie, normal, situation, and now no one knows where to sit, but the movie night thing helps and everything just clicks. Tony thinks he has friends now.

Except there’s something, someone, missing.

He doesn’t even know why he wants him here so much, it’s not like they got super close or anything,the four of them click, and based on what Clint says, Thor would slip right in and he’d barely be here anyway (which is a shame, because Tony really wants to get his hands on that hammer), but none of them know their captain at all and Tony can’t help but look at the four of them and think there’s something missing.

“The god and the legend too good for us?” Tony asks Natasha one morning. She’s the most open and vulnerable she’s been ever since she started living here, maybe a month ago; she has messy hair and she’s wearing a hoodie at least two sizes too big. It might be Clint’s. Tony’s not going to think about it too much. (And if he wasn’t in fear of attack-via-butter-knife, he would call her cute.) Anyway, he’s asking her because she’s the one reporting to Fury at the end of every week, and out of her and Clint, she’s more likely to tell him something (Currently, Clint’s giving him the silent treatment for putting purple dye in his shampoo (he drew over Dum-E with glitter glue (He’ll never admit it but Dum-E likes it))).

She gives him a look he doesn’t really want to decode. “Thor’s dealing with his own stuff, off-world, and Rogers is still at SHIELD.”

Tony gives her a disbelieving look, surely the team captain should be with them, and not in a cinderblock room eating crappy food (Tony’s been to SHIELD HQ exactly once in his life and never in the residential areas or the cafeteria (In his defence, he’s not too far off)).

Looks like he’s going to be getting another stamp on his SHIELD loyalty card.

It doesn’t take much to find out where Rogers is, a little hacking tells him his apartment details and a little more gives his security camera access. Rogers is pitifully predictable, Tony watches what he did in the past week, cutting between days and decides he needs saving.

All he does is go to ‘class’ (some guy explaining something, probably everything that happened in the past 70 years, while he takes notes. Captain America takes handwritten notes. (He should mention that he has godawful handwriting (Maybe Tony enhanced the image out of curiosity, but only JARVIS knows that and he’s well aware of the national ‘no snitching’ policy), he should also mention that he’s a doodler. Tony’s far happier than maybe he should be to find that he has a flaw - not so perfect now, huh Dad?)) and the gym (maybe he’s untouchable but damn Tony really wants to touch those muscles) and that’s it. He also leaves for hours at a time, only at night, and Tony could probably find where he goes, but SHIELD most definitely already does, and he thinks the guy deserves a little privacy from him (He leaves when the sun sets and comes back when it rises and looks the exact same. Not particularly suspicious until you realise that it means that he doesn’t sleep. Not Tony’s problem - he probably has therapists anyway.). He’s going through the motions, head down, quiet, Tony doesn’t think that he’s seen him smile the entire week.

JARVIS tells him that the sun sets in just under 20 minutes. He takes the suit.

“Going anywhere?”

“What the-- Mr. Stark?”

Tony’s always enjoyed the dramatics. He steps out of the shadows, still in the suit but with the helmet off, to face Rogers, legs straddling motorbike.

“Eh, call me Tony,” he says, casually leaning against a concrete pillar. God, the SHIELD garage is depressing. SHIELD is depressing.

Rogers still looks confused. And ready to book it straight out. “Anything I can do for you?”

“Come live with me.” Tony’s been told that statements usually make people do what he wants, instead of questions, and this statement is to a living legend, the Great American Hero. Telling him to live with him.

Rogers looks even more confused, “I already have a place?” He says, like even he’s not too sure.

“Fury didn’t tell you? Everyone has to live in Stark, well, Avenger’s now, Tower. For team bonding or something. In all honesty, I think he just wanted to get Legolas off his back, so to speak.” When in doubt, talk.

“Legolas?” Rogers still looks confused, but under it, there’s excitement, or proudness, or something, like he’s trying to tamp it down.

“Yeah, archer from Lord of the Rings, sequel--”

“To The Hobbit!”

Tony expected many things from him, straight up refusal was one of them, but not excitement at the Hobbit. If he couldn’t easily throw Tony a city block, he might have called him cute. (Whatever, he’s goddamn adorable, okay?)

“Yeah, kid,” he says, voice softening of it’s own volition. He clears his throat before he says anything more.

Rogers smiles at him, small and shy, and fiddles with something on his bike. “Were you, were you serious?” He looks at Tony likes he’s expecting him to pull the rug, yell ‘Sike!’ and fly away cackling.

“Yeah, you were meant to be there since the beginning,” Tony wishes that he has that file, from so many weeks ago, just to prove to him, ‘Look, you’re meant to be with us’. Fuck, a couple months ago he was ready and willing to punch this guy in the face and now he wants to wrap him in a million blankets and make him marathon the extended versions of the Tolkien-verse movies until he’s happy.

He’s going to be having words with Fury.

“Oh,” he says, like he never really considered that, “when can I move in?”

“Now’s always good,” Tony replies, challenging him with a raised eyebrow - ‘now’ means breaking out of SHIELD, ‘now’ means no more lectures from SHIELD personnel.

Rogers brightens up, it’s not much, but a 0.2V lamp in a basement seems like a quasar. (And if it makes Tony himself happy, to see him like this, well, no one has to know.)

“Let me get my stuff,” he swings off the bike and that should not be as attractive as it is. Bikers never really interested Tony, but there’s something about this one in front of him.

Tony comes with him, still in the suit, because he has to see his cinderblock in real life - hopefully the camera made it worse?

The camera did not make it worse. It takes him under five minutes to pack, and everything can fit in a standard backpack.

By the time they get back to the garage, Tony learns a couple things: 1. He knows what the internet is, and enjoys it, 2. The lessons are going incredibly slowly and he watched some Youtube videos and went on Wikipedia and already knows everything they’re telling him (they’re at the 70s and they skipped the formation of Queen), and finally, Steve Rogers, not Captain America, because in that short five minute walk he’s learnt so much about the man behind the mask he’s determined to never let him be forced behind it again, Steve Rogers is a nerd, a geek and a little shit.

And lonely. So fucking lonely. They pass so many people, walk straight through the canteen, twice, and while, yes, they get some double-takes (mostly baby agents (they’ll grow out of it)), no one says hi, or waves, or greets them or anything, even the guy who Tony recognises as Steve’s ‘teacher’ doesn’t say anything when they pass by in front of him.

He’s entirely untouchable, a living legend, Tony gets that, hell, even though that ten minutes ago, but under all that, under the fanfare and the applause and the costume, he’s a person, curious, bright, intelligent, funny, flawed. He wishes more people knew that.

“So, how fast can that new-fangled suit of yours go, Mr. Stark?” Steve asks putting on an ‘old Brooklyn’ accent and tilting his head and scanning it up and down as he straddles the bike again, bag on his shoulders.

“Fast enough,” Tony replies narrowing his eyes.

He grins. Bright and unabashed and it’s wonderful, but Tony only gets to see a second of it because he’s whipping out of the garage, yelling “Race you,” over his shoulder.

Tony’s laughing as he engages the suit, snapping up the helmet and following hot on his heels.

(They tie (4. Steve Rogers drives like a madman), shaking on a rematch.)

((It’s the happiest Steve’s been in the new century, in his life.))

It takes them a while. It takes them so fucking long even the new baby (practically foetus) agents are done with their shit.

It takes years of longing looks and brushed hands and secret smiles and quiet nights and flirty one liners and compliments, but eventually, eventually, Tony admits to the torrent of butterflies that inhabit his insides whenever he even looks at Steve and he kisses him, grinning so goddamn bright Tony’s positive his heart is going to burst.

“You gave me a home,” Steve admits quietly to him. Tony can’t see his face like this, in his arms, but he can kiss the side of his neck, hopefully communicating more than he ever could with words. Steve gets it.

“You make me happy,” Tony says, simply, into his skin, holding tighter.

(They tie the knot three years after that (the baby-- toddler agents yell Mrs. Rogers to Tony and Mr. Stark to Steve for a month straight (Tony doesn’t think too hard about the implications)))

((It’s the happiest Tony’s been in his life.))

iron man bingo masterpost

ao3: ineffablestarkrogers

#steve rogers x tony stark #steve x tony #stevetony #stevetony fic #stony #stony fic #iron man bingo #iron man bingo 2019 #iron man bingo 300 #imb #steve rogers #tony stark #my fic #my writing #pls rb yall

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scribeofmorpheus · 5 years

Text

Himmeløyne [2/?]

Pairing: Loki Odinson x Reader

Words: 3.6k | Catch Up Here | Masterlist

Warnings: Vivid descriptions of... trauma? I dunno. Nothing really.

Translations in Italics (Thanks again to @mejohanssonwrites for the help)

A/N: I have to admit, this chapter was meant to be more intense but ended up as a slow build-up chapter. The poll for the character name is over and the results can be seen here.

<<previous ○ next>>

~Y/N

The kindling in the fireplace began to gain traction, filling the wooden walls of your home with a warm yellow glow. You were sat on the fur rug you had tanned and skinned from last winter’s hunt, a tankard of ale in your hand. Snow filled the air outside, covering everything in a surreal white sheen.

The room was as quiet as the dead. You couldn't even hear the popping and crackling of the firewood. Something didn't feel right.

“Hvordan føler du deg?” Your Mother's soothing voice spoke from beside you.

How do you feel?

You turned in its direction, astonished to see her sitting on her favourite chair, smoking her pipe and filling the air with the spicy undertones of her burning herbs.

"Mor?" You asked, unsure if those words would make her disappear from you again.

Mother?

She simply hummed and nodded her head slowly, her eyes still filled with that far-away look from before.

Your memories were foggy, as though a lace curtain had been drawn over your eyes obscuring the images of what you once witnessed. Somehow you knew, she wasn't supposed to be here. You weren't supposed to be here.

"Men… hvordan? Du-" Your eyes narrowed as thousands of blurring images and sounds rushed across through your mind. A cacophony of avalanching turmoil sweeping through you.

But… How? You-

You searched your memories for answers, but all you could remember was the feeling of hot flames too close to your cold body. You instinctively shivered, noticing how unnaturally cold you were in this moment too.

“Alt brant… Jeg skjønner ikke hva som skjer!” you croaked out.

Everything was burning… I don't understand what is happening!

You canvased the room, trying to see if there was anything out of place, anything different. It was perfect. Exactly as you remembered it.

Like a ghost gliding on air. Your mother appeared beside you, no longer in your peripheral. She now knelt alongside you, her pipe discarded and her face possessing an unnatural glow, like the frosted mountain tops that shimmered when sunlight touched it.

In a slow mirage of after and before images, she placed a hand on your cheek and kissed your forehead like she used to when you were a child after a nightmare- except you couldn't feel her. There was no warmth in her hands. The only thing you could feel was time.

Time didn't feel fluid here. It felt splintered.

"Shh kjære, alt kommer til å ordne seg." She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

Hush, darling. Everything will be alright.

Those words again. The manner in which she said them triggered something dormant inside you. It had the aftertaste of fear and the intoxication of unbridled anger. The memories started bleeding through as noise at first. The sound swelled into intangible impressions of people and places and smells. After a suspended moment in time, everything rushed back in distorted flashes.

Your breathing became erratic, hands shaking and yet your heart beat at a slow and drudging pace. You were lightheaded. Muscles aching to the point you thought they would tear from your bones. What was startling was that it wasn't painful. If anything, it felt as though you were restless, afraid of standing still. But you couldn't move. Time had turned the air as thick as porridge and you were drowning in an empty room.

Drowning… was this what it felt like? You clutched your breast that once housed a foreign implement. Remembering the constriction of your throat as blood pooled just close enough to the back of your mouth that you could taste it.

“Hva skjer med meg?” You pleaded through pained rasps.

What is happening to me?

You Mother helped you off the ground, your tankard of ale spilling onto the white furs of your rug.

"Se på meg," she drew your gaze. "Fokuser!"

Look at me. Focus!

You tried to control your breathing and balled your fists to stifle the shaking. Nothing seemed to work.

The worse your episode got, the more things began to unravel. The room started to break apart. First, the wood of the walls turned into mesmerising explosions of splinters in the air. Then the fire instantly turned to ash.

The world was tilting on its axis and you fought to stay upright.

"Hva skjer med meg?" You pleaded with more urgency.

What is happening?

Your Mother grimaced with pity in her eyes, letting out a sombre laugh you had never heard before. "Det var dumt av meg. Jeg er for tidlig. Det er ikke tid ennå.”

How foolish of me. It seems I am early. It is not yet time.

“Tid for hva?” The words barely made their way out of your constricting oesophagus. Mouth gulping down dizzying, ragged breaths.

Time for what?

Your Mother kissed both your hands and let you go, her body seemingly deteriorating with the cabin. "Ikke fykt. Vi skal se hverandre igjen”

Don't worry. We will see each other again.

Before you could ask another question, an unseen forced ripped you through time and space, hurling you through blinding light, turning your heartbeat erratic and forcing your lungs open with cold prickly air.

Your eyes shot open. A ball of pooling blood hovering above you with a stream of red drawn from your chest where your flesh was broken apart. Your lips trembled with every inhale of excruciating breath. You were hovering above the ground, covered by golden strands of light.

You struggled against the cushion of energy that suspended you in mid-air. Confusion and unfamiliarity making you feel afraid and uncertain. All you knew for certain was that you were alive… and everyone else wasn't.

The pain of the memories forced a harrowing scream from your mouth as tears slid down either side of your face, summoning an unfamiliar woman to side.

"You're awake," she gasped with disbelief. She hastily conjured something powerful through the room and the ball of pooling blood disappeared as she peered closer at your open wound. "Good, all the blood has been drained."

"Quickly inform the Allfather!" She commanded someone you couldn't see. Then she rushed to your side and tried to steady your restless body from its struggle. "You have to stay calm. Stress will merely delay the healing process. If you keep agitating your body with this struggle your wound will not close."

Her words were hollow echoes in your tumultuous mind. You felt overwhelmed. Everything was too much. You had to find a way to let it out. A way to be free from all this pain. As the woman tried to restrain you down, her palm applied pressure to your chest and you screamed.

Suddenly, a burst of energy clawed its way out of you and impelled the woman backwards. The residual energy shattered whatever produced the cushion you hovered over and dropped you to the ground.

You winced as your body slumped to the ground, your hand clasping at the white fabric of the intricately detailed dress you wore in a feigned effort to protect your chest from any more damage.

Being free of your suspended state, you urged your shaky feet to lift you off the ground and began to run. To where you didn't know. All you knew was that you couldn't stay still.

~LOKI

Loki leaned against the railing of a balcony overlooking the glass ceiling of the healing chambers. With curiosity in his eye, he tentatively watched the exchange between the Midgardian woman and one of the healers. When she managed to break free of the golden stream that kept her afloat, only to subsequently flinging the healer away from her with a strange burst of energy, his eyes lit up as a coy smile spread across his lips.

"Interesting," he whispered to himself as he watched her make a break for it.

Loki opened a portal and disappeared into it. Determined more than ever to stick his nose into matters that didn't concern him.

~Y/N

Your vision was burdened with seeing double as you staggered on weak legs in unfamiliar territory. Each turn you made led you to another corridor littered with endless columns and even more corners. At this point, all you wanted was to see the sun or the sky or the clouds.

"Guards! Stop her!" The feminine voice of the woman you had knocked back rang across the empty hallway.

Your head snapped back to see her pointing in your direction as men in golden armour with sharpened swords, flowing capes and horned helmets marched in your direction.

In a frenzy of fear, your legs found untapped energy and you ran even faster than before.

Like the inevitable sunrise, light started to encroach upon a darker, more open section of the hallway. It was then that you realised you had found a way to the outside world. Your pace faulted but not enough to let the guards catch up to you. You dared not look back for the sound of their boots on the hard polished stone was warning enough that they were right on your heel.

When you approached the archway, you were stunned by what the outside world had become. Gleaming towers too tall to be built by any man stood high and proud. Peaks threatening to rip a hole through the bright sky. On the ground below, water of the purest blue sparkled like crystals, making you painfully aware of your thirst. At the centre of this brilliance was a structure of pure gold, larger than life itself. And just beyond the horizon was the edge of the world. The sea cascading in the form of a brilliant and quiet waterfall. The realisation that you were no longer home on earth was a brutal punch to the stomach.

You gripped your sides as the dark cloud of despair turned everything grey.

"Easy now," a firm voice whispered as a flash of green washed over you, rendering you paralysed. Strong arms snaked around your shoulders as you fell limp against the chest of a dark-haired man dressed in rich emerald garbs. His long hair framing his face as it swayed with the pull of your body as you slinked lower.

"You're going to be alright," he reassured you. "You're a slippery one aren't you?"

He looked down at you as though you were a riddle to be solved. Curious eyes of a scholar. This was a man who delighted in the pursuit of knowledge. You could tell by the hooded look of his wandering eyes and the playful grin tugging at his thin lips.

"Where… Where am I?" Was all you could manage to say.

"You're safe," He pulled your bending spine straight. "In Asgard."

Your head fell to the side as your eyelids grew heavy. Whatever he had done to you had made you court sleep.

"Asgard?" Your words were sluggish with fatigue. "Am... I... dead?"

"Far from it."

He smiled down at you just as the sound of boots clanking against the stone stopped.

“Such peculiar eyes…” he bemused, tilting his head like a curious cat just as your vision filled with black.

~LOKI

Loki stared at the strange woman sleeping with the fragility of a newborn babe within his arms. He could have sworn that as soon as his fingers touched the exposed skin of her arm they had turned blue. After blinking a few times, he realised it must have been a trick of the light.

"My liege, is everything alright?" The guard leading the troop of soldiers asked.

Loki simply held up his hand without removing his eyes from the stranger’s face, "Everything is under control."

"Loki, what is the matter?" Frigga came rushing to his side from a blind spot down the balcony. When she caught sight of the Midgardian woman slinked limply in his arms, her eyebrows rose. "She awoke?"

"It would seem so," he replied.

"Come, son. We must get her back to the healing chambers at once," Frigga lifted her skirts and caused the guards to part like the sea.

Loki used his free arm to cradle the spot under her knees and lift her off the ground. He carried the stranger back to the room she had escaped from.

"My lady. My liege," the head healer bowed as she gave them a wide birth.

"How did the girl get free?" Frigga questioned her.

When the healer wavered for a moment, Loki spoke on her behalf, "I believe our guest may be a witch, Mother."

Loki walked passed the stream of golden strands projected through the air towards a bed and placed her upon it.

Frigga touched the girl’s hand, "Your Father will want to hear of this."

"The Allfather was already here, my lady." The healer stammered, her eyes unable to keep off the young earth-born woman for more than a few seconds at a time.

"What for?" Frigga asked.

"I'm not sure, my lady. He asked us to give him some privacy." She muttered.

Frigga pursed her lips in thought, but her brow remained calm. Then her expression changed with what Loki could only guess to be realisation. He would always admire her ability to wisely discern the likeliest of reasoning for why Odin or any of her children did the things they did.

"Come, we should return to your father. Last I left him, your brother was trying to argue for a war!" Frigga said disapprovingly as she made her leave.

Loki allowed himself one last look at the woman before him. He found it ironic that even though she looked like death itself, she was still as enchanting as the first moment he laid eyes on her.

Loki had been bored for most of the day. Thor had spent all day off-world on a misguided errand to try and appease their father. Frigga had been otherwise preoccupied dealing with courtly duties, so Loki had nothing to do but re-read his books or practice new spells.

While lounging within the library walls. An idea that promised mischief came to him.

Using an old spell, Loki turned into a green snake and slithered down the green trail upon the rainbow bridge in the hopes of sneaking through the bifrost. Once Heimdall opened it to welcome Thor back, Loki slithered through, leaving everyone else none the wiser to his presence.

When close to Midgard, Loki conjured some magic to open a pathway to earth.

He had spent the whole day giving a group of hunters the run around by casting spells of misfortune upon their aim and vision. When he tired of such simple tricks he had decided to go take a turn about the land.

The sound of children’s bubbly laughter caught his attention. When he got close enough to the source of this laughter his eyes caught glimpse of a beautiful woman. Her hair was wild and long, eyes as changing as the sky and in possession of such graceful motions he was sure Idunn herself would envy how the forest wildflowers came alive at her touch.

Loki could feel something powerful about her, but more than anything, he wanted to know more about her. Her presence enchanted him to the point he had followed her into a cave under the guise of a helpless snake.

Looking back on it now, Loki realised that had been his first error in judgement.

His second had been warning his father of the Jotun attack, thereby denying her the chance to die beside her people. But something about her made his usually calculative mind more irrational. A part of Loki placed the blame on her bewildering eyes. They held a vibrancy, a clearness, that was as close to unnatural as it got.

He wanted to solve her, like some ancient puzzle waiting to be complete.

"Loki, are you coming?" Frigga asked.

As Loki turned to leave he noticed an odd brand marking on the woman's arm. It looked familiar, like something from his childhood. His brows pulled together in frustration as he searched his mind for answers.

“In a minute mother,” Loki left the intreguing woman behind but rather than follow after Frigga, he made his way to the library.

A few minutes after some unenlightening research, Loki decided to go and see what his brother and father were up to. But being a god with the flare for the dramatic, Loki decided to be sneakier about it, conjuring a portal into the throne room and staying afar.

"Father we have to attack!" Thor's voice boomed through the sparsely filled throne room. "The Jotuns massacred an entire village with no cause! The nine realms are our responsibility, we have to show them that an attack on any realm is an act of war against Asgard! With a small army, I could--"

"Enough!" Odin commanded. His stave hitting the throne room floor and echoing over Thor's shouts.

Loki watched with mild interest, leaning against a pillar out of sight.

"Always eager for a fight. One day, my son, when you are king, you will understand that war should never be a leader’s first call to action," Odin continued.

Thor was about to argue his case further but Odin raised a hand to silence him as his head hung low and his eye shut for a long moment.

Thor grew red with frustration and stormed away from the throne. Loki suppressed a catty smile as he watched his hot-headed brother skulk out of the room.

"If I may be allowed to speak, sire," Sif knelt. Her fist on her chest, saluting respectfully.

Odin gestured for her to rise, "Speak."

"I would like to be assigned to the Midgardian woman you rescued from the Jotuns."

"Why?" Odin asked.

"I believe she may be more dangerous than we first anticipated. Rumours of what happened in the healing chamber have spread. I would like to be of service in quelling any fears my Asgardian brothers and sisters may have," she replied in earnest.

"So be it," Odin agreed.

Sif bowed once again and took her leave.

Intersecting Sif's exit, the Warrior's Three walked into the room and bowed.

"My King, you called for us," Hogun announced them.

"Indeed," Odin stood from his throne. "I need you to return to the village in Trønsburg-" he conjured an ornate box using magic into his hand and handed it to the Warriors Three, “...to return this.”

"Would we be able to inquire as to the contents of the box?" Fendral asked.

Hogun and Volstagg glared at him for his rude question.

"No you may not," Odin chuckled. "Hide it somewhere safe."

The Warriors bowed once more and left without any questions.

When Odin and Frigga assumed the throne room empty, Frigga walked over to his side, placing a caring hand on his back.

"The healers told me you went to visit the earth girl," she said.

Odin nodded and let out a soft hum, "I attempted to read her thoughts."

"And?"

"She knew nothing of her origin or where her powers come from. She is all alone in this. Without a guiding hand, I fear she may be led down a dark path..."

"Perhaps she merely needs someone to show her the way?"

"Who would that be?" Odin asked with a squint of his eye.

"What of Loki?" Frigga offered.

Odin let out a deep sigh, "You know why that would be a disastrous idea."

Frigga placed her hand on Odin's chest, "You see how restless he is. This may be exactly what he needs to calm that temperament of his."

Odin rubbed at his temple, his gaze landing close to the column that was obscuring Loki’s presence.

Frigga noticed her husband’s attention pulled across the room. Her gaze followed after his and was met by the same pillar.

LNot wanting to be caught, Loki hastily materialised beside the column opposite to where he had been standing.

"I will consider it." Odin kissed Frigga, "Now there is another matter I must attend."

After Odin disappeared, Loki used his magic to shimmer elsewhere, but not in time to avoid his mother using her own magic to counteract his.

"Eavesdropping is very rude," she chastised and Loki was forced to stay locked in his spot by her constricting spell.

"A god of mischief has a reputation to uphold," he joked as his mother closed in.

Frigga shook her head with a smile, "You are lucky your Father's thoughts were preoccupied, otherwise he would have sensed your careless magic and given you a tongue lashing. Come, let us go check on your brothers raging temper and make sure he doesn't destroy any of your grandfather’s artefacts."

"Not to sound completely unreasonable, but I'd rather cut off my own foot, thank you very much." Loki rolled his eyes.

~HEIMDALL

"The Warriors Three just left for Midgard a few minutes ago, my liege," Heimdall said when he felt the presence of the Allfather behind him.

"The universe looks so peaceful from here. Everything so small and inconsequential against the backdrop of eternal darkness," Odin said as he stood beside him.

Heimdall let out a deep hum, his gold eyes seeing everything all at once. "I wouldn't call it peaceful."

Odin brought that weary, heavy hand of his back onto Heimdall's shoulder, "I have some grave news for you, old friend."

Heimdall looked upon the Allfather's face.

"But I suspect you already know what it is I am about to tell you," Odin mused sadly. "The human girl, she possessed Asgardian blood. She is your daughter."

Heimdall felt great pain and unimaginable pride all at once. His heart was about to rip in two. The helmet on his head suddenly became too heavy for his neck to support. He took it off and placed it at his feet, taking the knee.

"Sigrid had a daughter?" He asked.

Something in Odin's features told Heimdall the question wasn't for him to answer.

Then, Heimdall whispered, "I have a daughter."

Chapter Three

Tag list: @electroma89 @mejohanssonwrites @tarynkauai @wanderlust-travler

Permatags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet

#loki x reader #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #reader insert #marvel fic #Himmeløyne fic #odin #frigga #thor #sif #warriors three #heimdall #asgard #mcu #loki imagines #loki fic #loki laufeyson imagine #loki x you #loki

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vertigoambrosia · 6 years

Text

a fucking heat wave is upon the city; this may be my last shotgun recap before melting to death

goddamn pete bouncer is so hot

he knows it too, which is Terrible

oh have they not taped for the break? i think they did that last year

though this year shortcut is in the beginning of the next tour so who knows

jeez munster he wasn’t even looking for the cheap pop

uh oh boys

maybe when this whole thing blows over julian and ivan can bond over having partners with no chill

ummm we literally had this fight like last week

like, i don’t get it

i’m never gonna get over helmet hair zacky

ahura lookin a bit lonely without his bff

bobby gunns doesn’t have friends

well ok besides vinny

that was a nice lil match

ngl i’m a lil distracted by the lighting -- far from the best placement

these sneak previews are a cool idea nd i should probably take advantage

smug asshole dad: summer edition

oh god jorts

ugh crowd cheering for andy

don’t clap!

ok that was a promo? i gues it was supposed to be a big reveal that andy’s challenging at shortcut...but i feel like we already knew that?

‘the darkness where i come from’ guys i had to pause the video to properly laugh at him

does he know this is all ridiculous? who keeps thinking going full orientalism is the way to go?

THE DARKNESS

marius sweetie you’re....not the darkness type

someone has to do something about this

i love that tim thatcher shirt cause it makes people a lil intimidated and that makes me feel tough

this fight is like father vs son

meat man vs meat child

nice undies, both of you

i like the idea of this match more than actually watching it

like, young catch boi outmatched by seasoned catchman is a story i really like

but idk the pace? it also might just be me

oh boy

veit’s gonna have The Mark

that reminds me; i wonder if darby had The Mark after his match with walter on saturday

i feel like i would have seen it on twitter if he did though...

ok i got a lot more into that whent he pace picked up and veit started getting some moves in

these men are brothers

dragan sporting a grunge aesthetic this week

this is a weird promo to do in front of a crowd (as opposed to taped)

it’s got a lot of emotion and you kinda want the crowd to shut up

haha ok whoever said ‘he’s an asshole’ about jurn is great

i get why though - dragan is the crowd boy

this whole storyline has been weird

but at least not offensive or stigmatizing

like, the Good End being not ‘yay dragan is cured and happy’ but ‘yay dragan is going to therapy to help himself’ is really something meaningful

but also i’m so not looking for that level of meaning in my wrestling

oh no i think i hate the music they’re using for shortcut this year

AUF DIE FRESSEN

they need someone more sturdy and stern than the ring attendants to keep those belts while everyone’s fighting

you know what it is?

I thought i just wasn’t feeling the matches this week

but i’m getting thrown off by the weird lighting & camera angles

ok yeah there is som e rough editing; it seems like on one side they didn’t really et good coverage

it looks like at least one of the cameras is either zoomed in or a lot closer than usual, so the action often doesn’t fit in the frame too well

there’s a lot more camera movement than usual

see look at that rise double team - they never shoot it like that

ah so we’re getting Very Special Episodes

wait lol so next week will be a normal shotgun after all

‘when we return on [literally next week]

wait who’s legal right now

who handed them the titles back? why would you hand jay fk the titles

oh man that table spear would have been even sicker if the camera stuff weren’t weird

lil surprised that they set up the table opposite to hard cam too

like, is this a new venue or something? wxw is usually real consistent with their filming and editing, and they’ve been to muenster before,so it’s weird

Nice Rise give back titles

#hope u leik videography chat

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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city-wandering-bitch · 7 years

Note

Hi do 11: motorcycle cuz I love badass babes

Alexander Hamilton an eighteen-year-old high school student stood at his locker as he gathered his things for his two final classes of the day. He was wearing a dark green one size too big dark green hoodie with a white t-shirt underneath. He had a pair of loose fitting blue jeans on and a pair of dark green and white sneakers. Around his body, was a dark brown leather messenger bag that he used as his school bag. His hickory brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail moving some of his hair out of his black framed glasses cover brown copper eyes. The hoodie hid his sun-kissed caramel skin that held some scars that he had gotten over the years. He stood at the full height of 5′6 and he was slim for his age but he did have som muscles.

Alexander is what one would call a nerd and most certainly not the one that superstar and bad boy Thomas Jefferson would have any interest in no matter how much Alexander wish he did. He had fought with Thomas since the day they met in Freshmen year one the first day of school when they were in debate class with one another. So not only was Thomas a sports start, a hot bad ass who cared a lot for people, he was also extremely intelligent so he was a triple threat and usually made Alex blush whenever he was around him though he would never let Thomas see that.

So imagine Alex’s surprise when his locker door was slammed shut as he pulled his hands back safely and turned around to see Thomas Jefferson himself staring down at Alex in a cliche football player waiting to ask someone out pose.

Thomas Jefferson was a 6’2 man with an Olympic swimmer build meaning no trace of fat on him. His skin was a dark mocha skin that had a few scars from football and other sports. His hair was a thick curly bottom of the neck length mess of jet black and he had a scruffy neat beard to match. His eyes were a deep dark chocolate that even though Alex hated it would admit like every other everyone else at the school could stare in for an eternity. He had on a dark purple button up with a pair of nice new black jeans, he wore black and purple sneaker from yesterday and he had a black leather jacket thrown over his upper half that showed off all his muscles and made him look even hotter than he was before. He had his black leather messenger bag thrown over his right shoulder.

“Hello, Hamilton.” Thomas drawled out in his southern accent as he smirked down at Alexander. Alex forced himself not to shiver at those words as he glared up at Thomas through his glasses.

“What do you want Jefferson?” Alex asked as he pulled his books closer to his chest feeling more and more like a school girl every minute that he stood there.

“What, Can’t I just come and talk to you?” Thomas asked as he reached forward and gently pinched Alex’s cheek almost in an affectionate way. Alex swatted his hand away and glared up at him.

“No, you can’t.” Alex stated as he tried to move past Thomas, but was stopped by Thomas grabbing his wrist and gently pushing him back against the lockers.

“Come on now don’t be like that.” Thomas said gently as he smiled down at Alex a real smile something that Alex rarely saw Thomas give him.

“What do you want?” Alex asked as he pulled his arm away from Thomas glaring up at him as he held his books tighter against his chest. “We’re going to be late if you don’t hurry up.” Alex snapped out glaring up at him still.

“Your right we are, but I wanted to tell you to meet me outside in the back parking lot after school.” Thomas said as he smiled down at Alex with his laid-back grin that made Alex blush.

“Why exactly?” Alex asked a confused look gleaming in his eyes as he asked Thomas this.

“You’ll see just do as I say.” Thomas said that same smile gleaming on his face, but he then did something that Alex was surprised by. Thomas leaned down and place a gentle kiss on his cheek making him blush even brighter. “See you then sweet heart.” Thomas said with a wink as he turned and left Alex alone as he walked to his class.

Alex stood frozen for a moment before remembering he had to get to class so he quickly raced down the hall towards his math class wondering what the end of the day would hold if he actually went to the back parking lot like Thomas asked.

The end of the day came faster than Alex thought it would and he was truly surprised to find himself standing in the back parking lot waiting for Thomas just as he had asked. Alex felt nervous as he stood there waiting to wonder if this was just some stupid joke that Thomas and his friends were pulling on him. A few moments later Alex was proven wrong when he felt to hands placed on his shoulders and another kiss placed against his cheek making him lean back in comfort from how safe he felt which slightly throw him off since had never felt safe around Thomas.

“Hey, Baby you ready?” Thomas asked as he moved in front of Alex and grabbed Alex’s hand pulling him down the steps as he went.

“Go where?” Alex asked trying to ignore the fact that Thomas had just called him “Baby” as if they were dating.

“For a ride of course Alex.” Thomas said laughing as he gently pulled Alex towards the parking lot and towards a black Harley Davis motorcycle with magenta streaks going down it.

“I’m not getting on that thing!” Alex said as he pulled his hand back with a wide look in his eyes looking at the motorcycle and Thomas as if he was crazy.

“Oh, Come on Baby Doll everything will be fine I’ll keep you safe.” Thomas cooed as he moved towards Alex gently grabbing his hand once again pulling him towards him. Both his hands were instantly placed on Alex’s waist gently wrapping around Alex and pulling him close into a warm hug that Alex instantly melted into much to his embarrassment.

“You promise, Tommy?” Alex asked blushing at how much he had fallen in love Thomas Jefferson and at how Thomas had pulled him closer as if trying to convince him and Alex began to wonder how the hell things had gotten this far in the course of not ten minutes.

“Yes, Of course, I promise, Sweet Thang.” Thomas said as he pulled back slightly place his finger under Alex’s chin and moving his face up to look him in the eyes before placing his lips against Alex’s gently, Alex gave out a surprised sound before letting his eyes close and started kissing Thomas back as he wrapped his arms around his neck to pull him closer. A few moments later Thomas pulled back leaning his head against his forehead as he smiled sweetly down at Alex. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you get hurt.” Thomas said as he pulled back grabbing Alex’s hand once more and pulling him gently over to his motorcycle.

“B-Boyfriend?” Alex asked stuttering out blinking at Thomas as he carefully slipped onto Thomas motorcycle.

“Yeah, Boyfriend baby.” Thomas answered kissing his cheek as he took something from the front of the bike and holding it out to Alex. “Now can you please put this helmet on so your pretty little self don’t get hurt.” Thomas drawled out smiling at him as Alex nodded his head and took the helmet as he gently started to slip it on. “Wait!” Thomas instantly said making Alex jump.

“What?” Alex asked wondering what Thomas wanted. Alex blushed as Thomas quickly pressed his mouth against Alex’s lips in a chaste kiss.

“I just wanted a quick kiss.” Thomas said gently as he slipped on in front of Alex and slid his own helmet. “Now hold on tight babe.” Thomas ordered as he started the motorcycle and smiled as Alex wrapped his arms around Thomas’ waist and held tightly to him. Thomas revved the engine of the bike once again.

“Um… Thomas.” Alex said in a shaky voice as he held tighter to Thomas.

“Don’t worry baby I’ve got you.” Thomas assured him as he placed his hand over Alex’s. “Now let’s go!” Thomas cried out as he hit the throttle on the bike and it lurched forward making Alex let out a small squeak as Thomas laughed sweetly.

Ten minutes into the ride Alex was still gripping tightly to Thomas as the air whipped around them as Thomas made the bike go faster and at the same time he felt fear he felt excitement run through him as Thomas went faster.

“How do you like it doll!?!” Thomas shouted back to Alex over the roar of the bike as he felt Alex cling tighter to him.

Alex looked up at Thomas and for a moment he looked like an angel with the wind wrapping around him and the sun shining off of him. Alex felt his heart beat faster and he held tighter to Thomas as he leaned his head against Thomas’ bike.

“As long as I’m with you I love!!!” Alex yelled to Thomas as he felt a smile grow on his lips.

Thomas smiled at hearing that glad he hand finally found the nerve to ask out Hamilton after four years.

#Jamilton #Prompts #Hamilton #For My Lovely Wife @teresaelric #I love her so much #I hope you enjoy #Please ask if you would like a prompt written

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nightwingswing · 7 years

Text

Heartbreaker

Thanks @talesfromthecreed for requesting this one and I hope you enjoy and like it and I hope it helps you feel a bit better. :)

Request. Say, maybe, reader meets a cute boy during their time-traveling adventures, said boy breaks her heart, and the legends make him regret it?

Serie: Part1 Part2 Part3 HC Part4

When the team ended stuck in the 70s you pleaded Rip and Len to let you go investigate. After pleading and pleading they allowed you to go to a small party in a bar. You hugged them hard, making the other members of the Waverider jealous. Your moment was ruined as Jax and Ray who asked Rip to show them what needed some fixing, you smiled at them and gave each one kiss on the cheek before running away towards Sara’s room.

The guys looked at you fondly.

You were their little angel.

////*\\\\

“Can you help me?” You asked Kendra and Sara, the tree of you were in Sara’s room with a lot of clothes that you dragged from you room, in the ground.

“You want us to cover you so Rip, Snart or Rory don’t see you when you are going?” Sara asked.

“Yep”

“Why?” Kendra asked.” They gave you permission to go”

“They did, but I know Len and Mick, and they get… a bit overprotective. It was bad when Lisa was with us but now that she is in Central city they only got me, and after Savage kidnapped me it got worse. And they don’t like when I go partying with dresses or skirts”

“But for what you are wearing? C’mon I don’t think-“

*In other room, Mick found your black skirt you were going to wear to that party*

“(Y/N) (L/N) WHAT IS THIS PIECE OF CLOTHE YOU CALL SKIRT?”

“…”

“You were saying?”

“We’ll help you”

“Thanks!” You smiled.

///*\\\

The night came and with the help of the girls you escaped your overprotective family.

Like a pro.

You wore a (f/c) dress, black boots and a black leather jacket. Your hair pulled in a high pigtail and a set of earrings Len bought you.

Like, actually bought you.

You entered the bar, the old music and the dance moves made you laugh. You went towards the bar to ask for a (f/d) when a tall guy with gelled (h/c) and (e/c) eyes. A leather jacket hugged his frame and a smug grin slipped on his face.

“Hey, doll.” He smirked and you blushed, his 70s charm making you weak in the knees.

“Hello.” You said shyly.

“What’s your name, doll?”

“I’m (y/n), you?”

“(e/n)” He said as his hand bought your hand to his face, kissing it.

You blushed and the guys smirk widened.

“What are you having?” The gruff voice of one of the bartenders asked him.

“Whatever she is having” The bartender looked at you before sighing and shaking his head, and then he went to get your drinks. The bartender’s behavior seemed off but you ignored it. Your attention drawn toward this really attractive guy who wanted to meet you.

It’s been months since you found a guy who wasn’t an asshole and was cute and interested.

“So, where are you from? I’ve never seen you ‘round here.”

“oh, em, I-I’m traveling!, yeah! Traveling with my family! When won’t be here for long.” You smiled highfiving yourself for your lie.

“Then, I gotta show you lots of things” He smirked as he grabbed your hand and pulled you off. Dragging you to the door and towards his motorcycle.

“Wait! I don’t have a helmet!.”

“Put mine”

“But you-“

“I’ll be fine, baby” He smirked and the bike roared in its awakening.

You sat behind him, your arms hugging his waist so you don’t fall.

“Ready baby?” He said looking at you. You pulled the glass of the helmet down, smirking at him and winking.

“Ready” He speed the bike and you laughed as the two of you speed toward the night.

He showed you the most iconic places, you laughed and you felt your heart speeding like his bike.

///*\\\

The two of you got off of the bike in the highest point of the city where you could see all the lights. The quietness and the trees bought the two of you a feeling of intimacy. He sat in the ground and you sat next to him, the two of you contemplating the lights. His hand made its way towards yours.

When they touched, the two of you looked at each other, bewitched by the eyes of the other.

(e/c) meet (h/e/c).

Plump pink lips meet chapped ones as you sank in the warm heat that was the other’s arms.

///*\\\

You would be stuck here for a few days, and each one of them you slipped out of the Waverider without anyone noticing and hanging out with (e/n).

The team saw that you were happier lately but didn’t say anything in hopes of you staying like that.

When I say “they” didn’t say anything I mean that the girls dragged Mick and Len away from you, that way they couldn’t act like the overprotective assholes they are.

What you didn’t know was that Ray, worried about you, shrank and hided himself in your purse.

///*\\\

You walked toward (e/n), who was talking with a girl, clearly flirting with her. Your heart stopped.

(E/n) saw you and came up to you, grabbed your hand and smiled falsely sad.

“Sorry (y/n), but I found someone better, prettier and that doesn’t look like a freak. So I’m breaking up with you, you know, (b/n) and I have been together before I meet you. It was a bet between us. And how you are going away I’ll never see your hideous face again. So is a win-win. At least for me.”

“Good riddance, ugly!” Yelled (b/n)

He went toward the other girl who was laughing loudly, he laughed too as your heart had been shattered to million pieces.

Your tears clouded and scalding hot tears fell from your eyes, your shoulders trembling from the broken sob you tried to hide.

Their cackle could be heard from miles.

Tears flooded from your eyes as you ran away.

Their laugh as a background.

What no one was aware of was of the shirked Atom who broke one of your earbuds in his rampaging rage. He engraved the face of those two in his mind with fire.

Ray smirked evilly.

They had no f*cking idea of what was coming for them.

////*\\\\

The crew was chilling together. Mick, Len and Sara were playing cards meanwhile Jax was looking at them play. Stein was reading as Kendra and Carter were talking with Rip when you stormed in the room, sobbing miserably. You through your purse to the ground and your hands came to your eyes, covering the big tears falling to the ground.

“(Y/N)-“ Rip said but before he could say anything the most broken sob escaped your lips before you ran to your room.

Kendra and Sara darted from their spots and ran behind you, worried. Leonard and Mick got up and we’re about to run after you too, but were hold up by Jax, who shook his head, no.

Suddenly Ray returned to his actual height surprising his teammates, who looked at his flushed angry face, red with rage.

“What happened.” Len said cold as an iceberg. Mick’s shoulders tensed, making him look broader.

“She meets a guy. Guy made her happy. Guy was bich and broke her heart.”

“What did he do.” Carter said, eyes narrowing.

“He said she was just a bet he had with his girlfriend, that she was ugly and a freak. That he was breaking up with her. And they mocked her in front of everybody.”

CLASH

Mick had broken the chair he was sitting on, his knuckles red from the hit in the hard surface.

“I know of someone who got a free pass to the icicle’s collection.” Len mean smirk was so terrifying cold.

“Revenge?” Jax asked.

“Oh yeah” Mick smirked pulling his Heatwave glasses on. “Kid just lost his prick.”

“I know who they are” Ray walked towards Len. “Let’s get them”

“Stop.” Said Kendra, Sara behind her.

“You weren’t thinking of going to avenge (y/n)” Sara said looking at the members of the crew disappointed before an evil smirk appeared on her face.

“Not without us” Sara and Kendra’s aura was frecking terrifying. The guy’s smirked minus Rip, whose eyes reflexed his anger.

“Let’s go” Len ordered.

“I’ll follow you, soon. I have to cheek on (y/n).”

///*\\\

You were cuddled in your bed, tissues making a halo around your head. Eyes red with fresh tears and a red nose.

Rip entered the room and sat next to you, his hand brushed your hair back. Your teary eyes looked at Rip, breaking his heart. A fresh set of tears fell from your eyes as you asked Rip:

“I-It’s –hic- som-something wrong wi-hic-th mee??” You broke down again as Rip shushed you. Kissing your head again and again.

“NO, darling, no. You’re perfect, I love you, We love you.” Rip’s hands wiped your tears away.

He stayed with you until you fell asleep. Kissing your head and reassuring your self-esteem.

“He doesn’t deserve you,(y/n). If he tries to change you, if he betrays you, if he abuses you have to stand up. Said enough, leave him. You deserve so much better, there will be someone who will love you with all their hearts, who will see your flaws as virtues. Who will understand you, who will see you as the light that completes them, as you will feel the same.

So don’t worry, my darling (y/n).

You won’t ever be alone, you will always have us.

We love you, (y/n)

I love you (y/n).”

Your tears stopped as you fell asleep, a peaceful smile on your face.

You feel loved again.

Even though they never stop loving you.

///*\\\

Rip arrived before the fun began. Sara had knocked up the two cheaters as Kendra tied them up. Len, parka, glasses and gun sat before them a threatening smile on his face, Mick behind him was lowly growling and the rest of the team glared at them.

The two tied up teens groggily searched for something familiar when their eyes meet Captain Cold’s gun, proceeding to screech and try and broke the ties. Sara came toward the two ear-piercing yelling teens and hit them, softly (but still hard as hell).

“W-who a-are you?” The girl asked.

“Your worst nightmare.” Snart’s smile was al teeth. Dangerous.

“A-aaaahhhhhhhh” The girl shouted until Jax knocked her out. The team looked at him surprised.

“What?” He asked.

“Well done, kid.” Len smirked.

“I’m proud” Mick smirked.

Jax smiled at the team who were giving him a thumps up.

“Let’s put our plan in motion. Nothing fatal.”

“Aye Aye cap’tain”

Kendra and Carter flied with them and hanged them from a lamp post, their clothes changed to the most horrible of clothing, Jax had given them a makeup, and Mick had glued a sign that said:

On the girl, who was given a Joker makeup:

“I’M A JOKER. I LIKE TO MOCK OTHER TO FEEL SUPERIOR.”

On the asshole that broke your heart, who had his lips painted red and make up as if an unicorn had vomited a rainbow on his face.

“I’M A HEARTBREAKER AND A CHEATER.”

Len freeze their bounds so they only could be put down in the morning sun, so as many people as possible see them.

Sara took as many photos as possible, which anonymously ended in their high school.

Whoops

But what can I say?

Some of them are villains or morally ambiguous.

“Let’s go back. They’re meaningless. This won’t change a thing.” Rip said cold as ice.

“I need to talk to my lil’ sis.” Len said. Mick agreed, weapons safely keep away of sight. The team returned to the Waverider.

////*\\\\\

When you wake up, Carter and Kendra were asleep on your bedside. As you sit they stirred, they saw that you were awake and hugged you like an octopus.

“Are you ok? Do you need anything?? I-” Kendra said.

“Ken, I’m okay. Really, It doesn’t hurt as much as before. Because I know I’ll have you and the team. You are my family, and I love you unconditionally.”

Tears clouded their eyes.

“We will love you unconditionally too.” They kissed your eyelids as you hugged them both.

“(Y/N)!” Jax and Stein entered your room and hugged you. Asking how you were feeling. You laughed at their actions.

Sara then entered the room, kissed your head and showed you the photos. Your eyes widened. You felt a bit bad but also good because your team did all of that for you.

Leonard suddenly broke in the room and hugged you, even though he wasn’t fond of showing emotions in front of others, but you had him worried sick.

“The next one that breaks your heart, I will freeze his dick off and then Mick will burn it and then I will cut it.” He whispered. You hugged him hard and kissed his cheek.

“Thanks, big brother.” You smiled

“(y/n), never let a guy like that say those things to you! If any dare I’ll burn him slowly! Grr” Mick’s big frame enveloped you in his warm.

“Thanks.” You smiled.

You looked for Rip but he was nowhere to be seen.

After a few hours everyone leaved.

Well, you had to shoo Len and Mick away.

Their overprotectiveness overwhelmed you.

Really, why never is anyone just whelmed?

A few hour later, you waked up to Rip brushing your hair.

“Hey…” You smiled.

“Hello” Rip smiled back.

“Thanks you for what you said before Rip” You smiled at him

Rip hugged you hard and you surprised hugged back.

“I took care of them.” Rip whispered in your hair.

“I know.” You smiled “I love you, dad Rip”

“I love you too, darling”

Never forget you will always have somebody that will support you, that loves you, be it your family, your friends or people on internet…

You are never alone, my darling lil’ wing.

(Promps still open!)

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glopratchet · 4 years

Text

astryl-wondering

ludstrum is a computer program that is attached to the conciousness of astryl wylde, and starts screaming about how he was sent here by the Lord of Chaos to kill you and how he has been doing it ever since with his sword in hand and says "I am not your enemy" before killing Ludstrum Astyrl of course comes out of the tent naked with his sword in hand and says "I am not your enemy" before killing Ludstrum something went down in here, and that thing was most likely wasn't going well if it ripped through the bed sheet tent succubus wife: Kyros Green, fuzzy carpet War banner of Kyros Kyros' tent door Ornamental sword Helmet ; (empty) and appears again A blue potion audience chamber of Kyros the miserable sufferer In the far off distance is the standard conical tents in endless circles Its happy face is replaced by a neutral one He realizes that he must of completed it It puts them into the entsperation mental state Its With a scent of rot Its element is currently negative, dissatisfied, and unimpressed It puts them into It puts them into an unpleasant state of mind Its element is currently unimpressed, pathetic, and empat he Tries to calm himself down, but can't as he realizes he has lost his potion and thrown it away His unimpressed, over and over again Panic sets in as he realizes that he doesn't know how to stop the horrible feelings of pain from his skin being burned off And The succubus Then it hits him, he must have made an autonomous agent to protect himself because of 's head in red glowing letters astryl realizes what is going on and stops screaming about finally getting revenge He says "What did you do to yourself" but cludstrum helps him somewhat in defending against the attacks becoming passive agents of helping rather than succubi and incubi agents of torturing He discharges and rage Sensing that he is weakened and near defeat the curse of reason takes over astryl And enters in to a mega revolt The curse of and enjoy life And that is what he plans to do After escaping this accursed place Kyros' tent bursts And after some debate astryl gets an decision, they're going to abandon the camp and escape as a moaning wretch whose hands have morphed into talons for lack of anything else to do with his time He will wander the and himself for some odd reason He continues to stare into his starting screen, wondering if it's somehow still go anywhere Soon a theremin sound is heard, native to the space platform through ot is also known as the 98th circle of Port Inferno They appear in red outfits, riding big floaty platform are controlled by astryl's teath grasping at symbols 's apperance until Cludstrum comes up with a solution with some of astryl's temporal memories They're probably hailing you, astryl! symbols and you must sort ot this matter before you do anything else! at this point as they had tied to much of it together THey split into two groups, one that defends the ship manually, and one that works with ast as the ship's computer is doing some of the intertainment Although clud first noticed that it acted as a paralell processor to the computer; (and causing This is a call for the actors and you will be sorted into parts with the engines Which wil you bring in, the Mirror People or the Melon Thieves? You can't do both need for water or food is not a sure thing In the meantime, you continue But one can assume that this is involved in making themselves human again The last thing you can do is go on a quest to gather the relics of prosperity This goes left as power for the skinput= And an electric turkey in a glass cage as thanks for ast efficiently gathering the aluminum alligator shorts 's character sheet A haggard patient may the find the supplies to survive this tragedies that have befallen them all They notice some stranded qweep or say things to spark some memories of the users who made this thing They are mushed green and orange berries but hold nutritious contents within Some displays start agreeing A slab of togoruf is given to the temporal memory because they are incredibly delicious and it makes cludstrum remember his first time eating these things with They remember that they just wanted to help They had been on the ship before the maker tortrued them aobut what he was doing The togor he wants After some testing, cludstrum remotely brings a mirror online and it displays to you a list of things that could be edible The touchpad They do not need to eat for the most part astryl can easily survive of light and energy and eats light and energy His togor should sustain him for this week if he's lucky who will help them stay human within this experiment to survive off Someway, somehow, can you prevent spam from taking over the forum made about this? but allow him to survive the week If you eat the cactuses, he would survive If he survive this week he can drink som water and refill the moisture depository of his body through osmose as it slithers then so he can drink it finding a way to survive the week the street the ghosttown, find out how a place that has scarce resources and no human footprint fares the dessicated ruins of a city in the desert an oasis community trying to get by in life in the desert you stand behind the screen whilst a small human watches brief clips of things and describes them to you except for the stars and a sliver of moon, you go back to your home to ponder this wild world of humans, taking with you food, togor, rise as the sun lowers in the west, you trek through either dunes or streets and end up sitting next to small bodies of water to see a giant ball of his limbs about as he rolled down the dunes You watch all the little human going on with their lives until a loud horn blaring snaps you out of your laughter Taking a deep breath in you see small bags of water suspended in the air with a small stick poking through each hanging at eye level; knowing that each one This is scary! says Doctor a little quaver in her voice You hear an spooky whoooooOOooo FEAR by Zeekey up in the creepy church away in secret at the moon TOGORA now CRIMSON by Lewis out the TV and frightening the cameraman everything and everyone as he furiously claws then killing while wearing a balaclava And you just softly giggle to yourself in the dark deadly silence the whole tape on an endless loop ruining the TV TOGORA now beautiful dying surrounded by loved ones to turning off all the devices in the house leaving you to hunt him down A pitch black screen and time for bed, settled in nice and cozy the vivid animations on the screen to last all night off the last beloved pet left untainted leaving the whole place disgusting Bah, this is boring friendly mutants at secret base for months black silhouettes relentlessly around the room Having had enough of humans for now you decide to collapse in your fluffy bed hostile intent by passive-aggressively retyping the last report I gave him a million times You couldn't really sleep, though until the skin weeped, Kludstrm dull resitting dynamite the safe the hit squad set in compromising the Bolt Hole multiple copies of scoutflies' reports for HQ to decipher Kludstrm lackadaisical spamming the chatter channel with complaint threads on the buggy chat software a relentless campaign of extermination on the surface its a mimic! Your teeth chattered uncontrollably the sleeper mentally which got broken the lands in a straight line far from the temptation Kludstrm undull rather dull drilling a new path through the too slowly, apparently! gas into the main chambers of the in order to asphyxiate everyone inside letters spelling out your name in the frosty breath of the hapless guards That's the best you've ever come up with at the spot next to you where someone else is supposed to be sleeping instead what little is left of all good feelings after killing yet another of your admirers a compudoodoo information overload in the heads of dendrin worshippers Yeah right! You really want to leave this place now Kludstrm omniscient belittling THP humiliating disregard of its sacred drills Finally, you wake up This time, you didn't even see the list at all random parts in the lower maintenance floors You get out of bed a new non-lethal way of lopping terrorists' heads That stupid toad has been at this for years and he still isn't finished handful after handful of obsolete integrated circuits Everything is ready, then You are dressed and eat breakfast in the mess hall on indigestible chunks of plastic explosive The food tastes terrible as usual the aggressor into seclusion and giving them a good talk Don't think you could keep yourself from hurting Kludstrm if you tried only on blood plasma for weeks At last, it is time to conscript you into military school belated nights and afternoons preparing two decades-old plans for a final retaliation Probably on the surface scarabs to their hidden underground lairs They ate the tranquility park again every citizen with a partner and drafting breeding strategies for the rest You don't even want to know while patrolling the empty hallways No one enters the hospital from this point onward behind the horizon dragging yesterday with it Kludstrm kinky swapping your k-9 combo with a shrieking psychopath from another unit from under a rock shortly after midnight Aggressive patrolling commenced usuly around now Slip drugs in their food again? Apparently, we are not playing well with others today from below a rock shortly after midnight Except for today Word has come down from on high to cancel the patrol forcibly injecting redeemable good citizens with long-term bed rest hypno drugs The next days and weeks passed in a ; (drugged) haze oppressing women and children with brain-damaging metal poisoning the time has come obtaining blood plasma from captured dissenters Night is falling Theta Squad embarks on a recon mission behind enemy lines You are silent

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the-scholarly-sort-blog · 6 years

Text

So this is an early work; “The Final Scotsman” don’t judge it too harshly.

Chapter 1: The Beginning

“Aye I'm the last of my kin, before these Roman came an' they turned brothah and sister against one anouver but can ne kill me these wussy romans actually believe they can fall Fergus, naw they ain't strong enuff!" The Scotsman yelled into the valley be it out of sadness or anger, his eyes welled with tears reminiscing about the cruelty he has seen, his wife killed by his fellow Scotsman and then those Scotsman eradicated by Roman death squads.

“So come and find me, Ye wee little girls!!" he'd yell out, roaring at the sky as his grip tightened on his blade. “I'll take Ye all on." *His anger unmatched, he brushed a hand over his firey beard and moustache before he slid down the cliff face running into a Roman patrol led by a lesser known captain Gaius Merdian the captain drew his blade “Ah a Scotsman? I thought you all got wiped out? Aw what am I saying some bloodshed will help brighten my mood let's have it then!" the Captain would mused, smirking dirtily as he drew his blade. “Last time I penetrated a scot was back up near the Loch but it was not with a sword ohh how she cried!" These words fuelled the Scotsman rage, he rushed forwards towards the captain but a soldier stood in the way blocking the attack with his shield. “Move outtah mah way! Or I'll move Ye meself!" he would growl towering over the Roman Troop, who promptly fell over the Scots man rushed towards the captain blade contacting flesh, drawing blood and exposing flesh and bone. The captain cried out stabbing his gladius into the Scotsman's leg not deep enough to hurt as before he could react the Scotsman lifted him off the floor and threw him to the ground.

The soldiers now raised their blades taking a few steps back away from the Scottish Demon, glancing to one another each of them had been taking mental notes on the Scotsman pointing out weaknesses to one another, the captain stood slashing the distracted Scotsman across the back, prompting a snarl to escape the Scotsman's teeth he kicked the captain across the floor after slicing his arm off, now preparing his weapon to take on the Roman platoon kicking one backwards before stabbing another grabbing the third by his neck and throwing him down the Scotsman growled “Come on then let's 'ave Ye!" he called out before slicing off another soldiers head, they began to flee back to the fort to inform the general there, The Scotsman would laugh going back on the lonely trail he slowly trudged through the fresh snow. “oh I canne be arsed with this!" He shouted, kicking a roman helmet away. “Ah me fooking toe!" he call out quickly holding his foot and roaring out. “Bastard fecking helmet, bastard fucking weather and bastard soldiers!" He began to make sounds roars, screams and more roars but the roars quickly became tears and cries as he hunched over under a tree the full impact of the situation hitting him as he pulled out his wife's amulet running a hand over the runes scripted unto it, he whimpered lightly. “am only doing this fer ye...." he said lightly before setting up camp, the roasting fire, the deer skin tent and wolf skin bedding, all so warm he began cooking some Roman food, tears cold in his eyes.

Chapter 2: The Red Dawn

The Scotsman awoke to the smell of fire, did he leave the campfire lit...no, no he didn't he looked over the the hill he found a old Scottish village beginning burnt down, the amber flames roaring and raging he felt a lump build in his throats he turned away quickly and begun packed his equipment, the silence was overwhelming...madness inducing he often found himself engaged in conversation with himself.

The cobbled path was odd, he walked calmly across it the snow crinkling under his feet with each step he took his frosted breath froze his beard, he sniffed in the air the stench of smoke and blood was pungent and slaughter was in fashion he passed mass-graves of the Scottish, he found villages burnt he arrived at the port where he used to live it was now under Roman control, he wanted the heads of three generals who led the siege here and all across Scotland, he hated them the most...he found the place unguarded all apart from a young boy donning armour almost twice his size, he sat on a chair and upon seeing the Scotsman's approach rang the bell, the alarm, the reinforcement button. “A good morning would've sufficed!" the Scotsman shouted with a chuckle, drawing his blade preparing for the back up.

That clank of metal was unmistakable it was a war elephant a Roman sat atop it's back. “Come from your hiding place little scot and I'll crush you....slowly Fight however and I'll pop your head off."

“I ain't scared of Ye wee man! Come doown offa that beast so I can kick yer arse!" He called out before: “Scoundrel" The Scotsman was knocked out clean by Victus himself, Victus' bronze boot sprayed with blood.

Chapter 3: The Sands of Rome

“Welcome to Rome!" The Scotsman was kicked into a cell next to a large Roman man, Brutus was tattooed across his chest and other Roman profanities were also tattooed on “Salvete Forum!" The Scotsman would look up, he narrowed his eyes at Brutus. “I divvint speak Latin!" Brutus would tilt his head “Greetings ally!" He chuckled, smiling at the Scotsman. The Scotsman was not pleased about this situation “Now let me tell Ye som-" he was cut off by the crowd's roaring and the arena hosts yells “This day in the pit we have a special guest ...The...Last...Scotsman!" his yell was cheered “are you ready for blood shed?! Are you ready for ruthless slaughter?!" He screamed out, again drowned out by affection and love of the crowd “Will he avenge his wife?! Will he be a wraith of death?!" The guards came in forcing the Scotsman out of his cell throwing him onto the sand, he coughed up sand shouting profanities to the guards as he looked up he found a lion snarling at him, A sword was dropped for him he raised his blade to defend himself.

The beast snarled his mane was blacker than night, eyes as orange as flame, teeth are as sharp as swords and his entire body was wrought and destroyed with scarring and burns. “Behold one of Hades' demons!! His name is Bassius!" The lion roared leaping at The Scotsman, a dagger being planted into it's muscular side...it roared flopping down before running out of sight of The Scotsman, he backed up against the wall the heat of the sun beating down on him beads of sweat dripped down his face, into his eyes blinding him. “Come out wee beastie I've got a treat for Ye." He raised arm wiping sweat from his face catching glimpse of Victus stood on the wall near the pit watching over it, hand on gladius the lion looped around diving atop The Scotsman biting into his muscular arm, The Scotsman poked out one of it's flaming eyes with his thumb it hissed creeping back. “C'mon then!" he pounded his chest glancing up at Victus occasionally.

The General watched excitedly, grinning under his mask...The Scotsman was blinded by the sun shining off of his armour the lion strikes biting into the Scotsman's arm again, The Scotsman unleashes a flurry of punches and one stab the crimson oozing from his arm was flowing out like a waterfall crashing against the yellow sand tending the sand a deep shade of red, Bassius The Lion lay on the floor whimpering and....almost crying The Scotsman saw the innocence in the beast he cast aside his weapon crouching down next to the animal, running a hand through it matted mane, sticky with the fresh blood, Bassius looked up at him, at first in fear but then sadness the lion, would flop it's head down into the sand whimpering louder. “Yer a big softie ain't Ye?" The Scotsman bit his lip, saying the hunters prayer of apologies and thanks before driving his Dagger through it's neck

“I have killed the creature you call Bassius have Ye a better creature to fight?!" he roared, raising his arms up and snarling loudly as Victus would chuckled and clap his hands. The Announcer chuckled “The Last Scotsman has killed Bassius now he will have to fight the warrior legend Clavicus The Skin-Flayer!" Clavicus got his title from violently skinning his opponents after combat, he wears a cloak made from the skin of his adversaries.

He walked out to face the Scotsman, it became apparent that this wasn't for sport they simply wanted The Scotsman to be killed brutally in front of a crowd as Clavicus came with a gang each wearing the faces of shined mean over their helmets, “Ohhhhh Scotsman you're the last of your breed right? That means you're exotic, rare and expensive you'll make a fine addition you know how I do it I take your skin, with this knife I then cure with cow shit, then I soak it in tiger brains and then when I step into your skin I make you look gooood!" Clavicus gave sick little giggle at then end of his monologue as he approached the Scotsman “Keep the fuck awee from me Ye freak!" he roared swinging his blade forwarded cutting his chest, Clavicus looked up sprinting towards the Scotsman stabbing at him, then slicing “I think you'd make a fine cloak eh?" Clavicus again giggled, before getting in a lucky his his blade slipping between The Scotsman's ribs he raised Clavicus off the floor slamming Clavicus down with the force of ten suns, actually wind Clavicus allowing The Scotsman to kill off the gang members before planting the blade through Clavicus' heart but then he heard it Victus leap into the pit.

Chapter 4: Victus' Wrath

Victus' armour was shining so bright in the afternoon sun that he looked like a god, his deep laugh was loud and intimidating as he drew his gladius “you've caused quite a mess my friend for years, since we first landed here! But now I will have to put you down!" Victus said laughing again, “Oh aye and how are Ye going to do that?!" The Scotsman yelled with such rage and anger, he hoisted up his weapon but stumbled in from the injury on his rib cage holding it to prevent further bleeding.

Victus took this too his advantage punching the stab wound and slashing The Scotsman's chest, The Scotsman would retort with a kick and swing of the sword sparking against Victus' armoured chest, The General would give a cocky chuckle before punching the Scotsman square in the nose, The Scotsman would lash out with his sword cutting off Victus' plume, causing Victus to lash out a in a rage slashing at the Scotsman's abs and crotch the Scotsman picks up Victus slamming him to the ground and standing on his chest, The Scotsman pressed his sword again Victus' throat.

Victus chuckled under the large man's boot, prompting the Scotsman to press his foot down harder Victus tossed sand into the Scotsman's eyes as Victus took a small slash too the neck, Victus stood up drawing his gladius rushing at the Scotsman and slicing the tendons in the legs, causing The Scotsman to fall too his knees Victus pressed his blade to The Scotsman's neck “Will you beg dog? Or will continue to fight?" Victus chuckled, lightly slapping The Scotsman's cheek “Do me in then Ye big coward...come on then let me join me family then!" Victus would would nod bringing his blade down to The Scotsman's chest before shoving the blade in deep into The Scotsman's chest cavity. “And as always Victus wins as he always does!" He headed back to the Scotsman's position pulling his gladius from The Scotsman's chest spraying blood across the sand. “Give this man a good burial...he was a adversary most worthy." Victus would said sheathing his blade, and removing his helmet.

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