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stanknotstark · 3 years

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Research and Dating (No They Aren’t Connected)

“So, if you could kidnap me really publicly that would be great.”

“...why?”

“I kinda forgot about this research essay due tomorrow? And like, my prof knows I’m a hero- I even brought my laptop so I can write it in your cell. Is the wifi password still the same?”

It’s Thursday at 8 P.M. and your essay is due in 4 hours. It wasn’t that you had procrastinated it’s because-nope, ya, you procrastinated. Now you were freaking out about it when the glorious idea came to you.

There were, of course, perks of being frenemies with Loki. You have visited his his base of operations before, his ‘evil lair’, been thrown into one of his cells and ‘suffered’ until he got bored of the Avengers searching for you like chickens with their heads cut off and made theatrics by showing up to them with you in his hands and ‘failing’ to keep you away from the Avengers saving you.

In all actuality, you had sat in a golden cell but Loki had sat right outside the cell with a chair and read while eating an apple. You couldn’t read the title of the book so you asked him what it was about and Loki had been a little hesitant but fell into your pure curiosity and explained what he had been reading. You’re sure he liked your curious mind as you started asking more questions and challenged the ideas the book gave. It lead to a long discussion of morals, and death, and at one point whether apples or pears were better. It was fun is what you’re trying to say.

That’s how your friendship blossomed.

So, you call up Loki, yes he has a cell phone, and ask him without explanation at first, “So could you, like, kidnap me but publicly?”

You can hear the cogs turning in Loki’s head at your request. “Why?” He asks in a smooth voice, betraying no emotion.

“I kinda forgot about this research essay due tonight? And, like, my professor knows I’m a hero. I’ll even bring my laptop so I can write in your cell, the wifi password is still the same right?” You ask Loki.

Loki sighs over the phone, you can imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose with closed eyes.

“Yes. Fine. Be at Madison Square Garden in 15 minutes.” The god says and hangs up.

You smile and pump a fist at your best friend’s save.

You’re at Madison Square Garden in record time and Loki makes his entrance a show.

You’re sitting down outside the stadium when Loki materializes from green clouds of magic that open a portal then float into the air as if they’re a sign that’s flashing the words ‘Loki is here!’ in the night sky of NYC. When he sees you he rolls his eyes but people start paying attention so you play along with his ruse.

“Loki! What mischief do you plan to get up to today? It doesn’t matter, I need to bring you in!” You yell at him, almost laughing at how stupid this all seems, and push civilians back behind you.

Loki chuckles darkly, “You. You are my mischief today, your poor Avengers will never find you. You will become my slave.” Loki says with a voice that is dark but his eyes light up with amusement.

By now hundreds of people have stopped their night to watch you and Loki, phones out and recording everything.

You smile sardonically at Loki, “Not if I-”

Loki grabs you and pulls you and teleports. When you’re at his base you sigh and pat him on the arm as he pulls from you.

“Thanks, I owe you big time Lokes.”

Loki frowns at the nick name you chose. “Please refrain from calling me that or I shall teleport you to your professor and have you face the repercussions of procrastination.” Loki threatens.

You chuckle, roll your eyes, and head to the cell. It’s just in case someone actually does pop in to ‘save’ you.

When you’ve settled in the cell Loki raises the golden barriers and magics a chair near to settle with you.

“What do they have you writing about now?” Loki asks.

You had asked him for help writing other essays because Loki has an eloquent way of speaking. You felt it made you sound smarter and because you spent consistent time with the god you had fallen into talking like him sometimes.

“It’s for my disability class, the sociology class?” You ask Loki if he remembers you telling him about it, at his nod you smile, “Ya, so basically we’re to argue whether we feel prostitution should be legal or not in America considering how much it helps the disabled.”

You laugh at Loki’s frown.

“Which side do you argue for?” Loki asks with a small squint as if trying to determine the side before you tell him.

“I believe it should be legal but have restrictions and rules. If in the wrong hands it could be really bad but at the same time if it’s in good hands it could be really good. It’s a risk but we won’t know how well it’ll work if we never try, you know?” You say with a pondering look. Loki purses his lips but nods at you.

Loki magics a book into his hands and lets you start writing away. The whole thing is very comforting to you. Sound wise, you can hear Loki let out puffs of breath when he finds something amusing in his book, Then, there’s the rhythmic tapping of your keyboard as you write. Other than that you just enjoy being with the god, even if you aren’t interacting with each other.

You’ve been harboring a crush on him for awhile but have always kept it hidden. You value his friendship too much to do anything that could jeopardize it. Not to mention, Loki hadn’t shown anything on if he likes you or not. He occasionally flirts with you in battle but that’s about it. So, you feel you know he isn’t attracted to you like that.

“Loki what’s another word for great?” You mutter.

“Glorious, grand, impressive?” The god supplies you with choices.

You hum but don’t say anything and continue typing. After you finish your paragraph you look at Loki who glances at you.

“Thanks.”

Loki smirks at his book, “Anything for you, darling.” Loki says in a low voice while reading his book.

See, the nick names had started early on. At first they had confused you but when you had been in battle and helping Tony, Loki had called Tony ‘sweetheart’ so you reasoned Loki just had a thing for nicknames. That doesn’t stop the jolt in your stomach when he does call you sweet names like that though.

You shake yourself out of your reverie and continue writing. You’re like one, maybe two, paragraphs from being done. You try your best to elongate time to hang out with Loki more but when you finish your essay you don’t have any other excuse.

That’s why, when you finish and close your laptop with a small ‘click’ and Loki stands and asks if you would like to spend time at his apartment, you’re shocked.

You stand looking at Loki with wide eyes.

Loki takes this as an answer and coughs a little, bringing a hand up to rub at his face, he’s trying to hide his embarrassment.

“I am sorry, I crossed a boundary, it won’t happen again.”

“No!” You yell, nearly dropping your laptop as you reach towards Loki. You scramble to hold it to your chest again and look at him, shyly pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“I would love to. I was shocked, I always figured I’d be the first to ask.”

Loki looks at you a little doubtfully but sees the truth in your answer and smirks. Instead of replying he waves a hand and the barriers disappear then he holds his hand out to you. You gladly take it and suddenly you’re both standing in a tidy apartment.

It’s very modern and looks costly. The furniture is all contemporary and different shades of white, brown, and gray, with the occasional splash of emerald green in throw blankets and decorative pillows. You don’t really notice but Loki still holds your hand.

Loki pulls you by his hand towards his kitchen and puts a kettle of water on on the heating stove top.

“Tea? Or are you more of a coffee person?” Loki asks you with a glance as he pulls out his tea. You finally realize Loki has yet to let go of your hand but you’re not going to complain.

“I love both, but tea will be good for now.” You say lightly, glancing down at your clasped hands when Loki isn’t looking. A small blush heats up your cheeks and you let a stupid smile cross your lips.

You and Loki settle against his bar, still holding hands, while you wait for the water to heat in the kettle.

“I never had the chance to ask but why are you studying psychology and sociology? I figured a superhero’s salary would be quite enough to live comfortably? Don’t tell me they under pay you.” Loki asks, his tone laced with a threat when he says the last part.

You chuckle. “No, it pays well enough, enough to pay my way through school. I want to help people though, that’s what makes me truly happy. So, naturally, psychology and sociology were natural choices because they help me understand people, the way they think, how they tick, so I can better help them.” You explain.

You look up at Loki who looks at you with an unreadable emotion on his face. Loki then brings a hand up, tucks a rogue lock behind your ear and keeps his hand there. “You are too precious for this world.” He whispers as he looks at you. You feel you cheeks heat up and can’t keep eye contact with Loki.

Loki clears his throat and drops his hand from your face, looking away from you as well. However, he doesn’t stop holding your hand. You feel your hand become clammy from nerves and hope this doesn’t gross out Loki. At the thought your hand twitches in his and Loki merely squeezes your hand.

“What other hobbies do you favor, seeing as they obviously kept you preoccupied enough to procrastinate your paper?” Loki asks.

You smile at the ground because you realize Loki is trying to better know you.

You look up at Loki again, who is already looking at you. “Well, surprisingly enough research and reading are my main hobbies.”

“Oh?”

“I love learning so I read up on whatever subject pulls at my attention at the moment.”

“And what draws at your attention right now?” Loki asks curious.

You flush and look at the ground, kicking it softly with the toe of your shoe. You mutter the answer.

Loki chuckles, brings his free hand up to tilt your face till you look at him. “Say that one more time, where I can hear it darling.”

“Norse mythology.” You say softly, embarrassed.

Loki’s eyebrows lift in shock. The look on his face showing that he did not expect that answer at all.

Thankfully the kettle begins whistling and causes the moment to be broken and forgotten.

Loki makes a cup of tea for the both of you and you both move to his living room, seated on his couch. You’re both sitting close enough to touch at the legs but don’t hold hands anymore. You set your mug on the coffee table in front of you, too hot to hold. Loki however basks in the heat of his cup, his hands wrapped around the mug as if he has just come in from a blizzard.

“I have plenty of texts you may borrow if you want to learn about the true mythology.” Loki offers, looking at you calculatingly.

You had hoped Loki would drop the subject seeing as your research was drawn from your want to learn more about Loki than actual Norse mythology.

Whatever, shoot your shot, right?

“I’d much rather hear your tales than anyone else’s.” You say, your hands picking at your jeans with nerves.

Loki hums with a small smile as he takes a sip of his tea. “Of course, darling. There is no better way to learn than from the source of such tales.” Loki says smugly.

You feel a smile break over your lips as you look at Loki who basks in his arrogance.

“I better watch out, stroking your ego,” You say, Loki raising a brow at your mischievous smirk, “Otherwise you might start sounding like Thor.” You say to knock Loki down a peg. Loki scoffs with a roll of his eyes but you don’t miss the twitch of his lips.

“Do not compare me to my oaf of a brother.” Loki says, finally setting his mug of tea down, resting his hands in his lap. You also don’t miss the twitch of his hands, as if they want to reach out towards you.

There are too many signs that Loki obviously likes you, it’s almost overwhelming, but you keep yourself pulled together before you ask him the question.

“You know, I’m just kind of going out on a limb here, but uh...You ever plan to ask me out, take me on some romantic dinner or something or do I need to give more incentive?” You say, the confidence in your voice a facade because inside you’re freaking out.

Loki keeps a blank face as you look at him. Then, he lets a smirk break out over his lips, glances at his tea but his eyes come back to yours.

“Is that such a good idea? Considering you are still my enemy?” Loki asks.

You grab your tea so you have something to do with your hands, sipping from the earthy, spicy liquid. You let yourself think, letting his question roll off your shoulders and shrug. “I could care less what the Avengers think but we can keep our relationship hidden if that would keep you happy?”

Loki purses his lips, his eyes squinting at you. “They would cage you, would they not? If they knew you were fraternizing with the enemy?”

“Yes, but I have no doubt you’d let them keep me for long.” You smile at Loki who huffs out laughter.

“You truly want me?” Loki asks. You don’t fail to hear the insecurity in his tone.

You set your tea down, grab both of Loki’s hands in yours and look at him, baring all your emotions on your face. “More than you will ever know.”

Loki squeezes your hands with a soft tilt of his lips.

“Then I suppose it is inevitable. Shall we partake in a date tomorrow night, say seven?”

You smile at Loki. “I would love to, Lokes.”

Loki rolls his eyes at the nickname but you know he doesn’t mind it, much.

Needless to say, you were granted an extension of time to turn in your essay while also scoring a date with your crush.

#research and dating (no they aren't connected)#loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #so like i started writing this before my writing had truly developed into what it is now #so the first part might be a bit iffy and stuff #i tried to fix it but i don't think i did so #anyways im not completely upset with how it turned out #reader insert #my writing #prompt

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papirouge · 3 years

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Yes! Just saw your reply about the radfem inconsistency about abortion (ie sex selective vs disability)

It always rubbed me the wrong way especially how horrid they were if you ever brought up the social pressure (and really in a world where most romance movies kill us off, social stigma is a real issue)

So many don’t see an issue in their own hypocrisy and it’s really upsetting especially when they tout how they debate and are open but they really aren’t so thank you for talking in such a nice way about it!

You're welcome hun🤍

Radfeminism and hypocrisy are almost a pleonasm at this point lol

The issue of ableism and sex selective abortion are only but the tip of the iceberg anon

I've seen the vilest attacks against women FROM radfem spaces, as well as thinly veiled racism branded as feminism ("Black women are male identified (for defending Black men falsely accused by racist White women)" lmao).

I vividly remember during the latest attack of Israel against Palestinians, many radfem siding with Israel and calling Muslim women/radfem defending Palestine "islamist". I even got one who came in my DM telling me she got called a salafist by a french Whitefem (the same one who called me "islamogauchiste" (French derogatory slang to call Muslim apologist leftists) ....when I'm not even Muslim, am critical of Islam as a religion (especially since I'm Christian) and not even "leftist"..... But it truly show how utterly stupid french radfem are about politics : if you side with Palestinians, you're an islamist.... OBVIOUSLY.

I remember someone saying once that radfem consider themselves as the standard of feminism, and that's true. If you remotely disagree with them, you're either male identified, or a libfem, or a pickme, or have internalized misogyny, or a handmaiden, or you're an islamist/salafist.... and then they turn around and act shook that no one likes them LMAO

Look at their pathetic sense of intellectual superiority towards libfem/choice feminists. At least choice feminists ARE consistent in their belief system, when radfem are critical of choice (when it comes to make up or prostitution)....but NEVER when it comes to abortion.

I've yet to see Israel simping radfem touting their support 'for all women in the world' call out the IDF for routinely harassing and brutalizing Palestinian or Arab women... Nooo....instead they'll go after Muslim men who are much more PC to criticize than Israel. They'll whine about police brutality against women, but be dead silent about the IDF decades long history of brutality against women and mothers. Radfem are huge cowards LMAO

And let's no forget how the IDF pulls out merch making fun of killing pregnant Arab women... Where's the radfem outrage?

oh wait, these women don't think fetuses are humans so they don't care about it, obviously¯\_(ツ)_/¯

There's no way to tap dance around pulling out the hIsToRy oF iSrAeL excuse whenever someone is talking about the Palestinian struggle. Radfem don't care about the "history" of men brutalizing women. They're just hypocrites & cowards and pick which women they find worthy of defending.

Them stating they're "open for debate" is a lie. Radfem will cuss and/or block you for liking/rebloging their post if you're Christian, conservative or pro life lmao They're VERY defensive about their spaces but have no issue invading those of others (provoking tradfem in their posts' notes/reblogs or TRA half their age thinking they're doing something... etc) and even mock people for pulling out DNI in their bios. "Do as I say, not as I do" should be their motto

#answered #whitefem be whitefeming

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p-artsypants · 3 years

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I’ll Handle This (12)

In Which Lila Learns about Skyrim

Ao3 | FF.net

Sorry for taking a bit with this chapter. It isn’t even very long. But I was in the hospital recovering from surgery. We’re coming up close to the end of the story, but there’s maybe two more chapters after this.

(Psst this chapter has hints to the next story I’ll publish after this one...as long as my ideas don’t change lol)

Lila was fired. It was immediate when they found out. Everyone sat in class, the lecture normal and lulling everyone into a soft state of sedation.

Then Lila screamed. The scream was the worst thing Marinette had ever heard. Immediately, everyone turned to look at her in horror.

She started bawling. Huge gasping sobs of someone who’d been shot.

“Lila?!” Miss Bustier gasped in shock and concern. “Are you okay?!”

“I’m so sorry, Miss Bustier!” She wailed. “I just wanted to peek at my email and—and—Mr. Agreste fired me!”

Plagg had to bite his tongue. He knew she was going to twist this somehow, but her sobbing was so beautiful to see.

“Oh Lila, I’m so sorry. It hurts a lot to lose a job. Especially when they don’t tell you to your face. That’s no fair.”

“He-he-he said that Marinette told him that I was making Adrien uncomfortable! She got me fired!”

Gasps, all around.

“What?!” Barked Marinette. “I had nothing to do with this!” Not exactly the truth...

“But that’s what Mr. Agreste said!”

Plagg stood, placing his foot on the seat, the spurs on his cowboy boots ringing with the motion. He put his cowboy hat back on (since Mrs. Bustier had asked him to remove it for violating dress code...again.) “well now. Sounds like we got ourselves in a gosh darn pickle.”

Nino snorted.

“Adrien! You never said I made you uncomfortable! Marinette must have lied to your father!”

He flicked the rim of his hat. “Now slow your roll there, Buckeroo. I know my old man, and even if Marinette was mentioned in his email, it’s likely that he just wanted to place the blame on someone else.”

Yes, throw the old man under the bus. He still deserves it, even with whole hearted apologies.

“But you know, I do feel awfully bad for you, Lila. Losing yer job and all. How’s about I make it up to ya? I’ll come sit by you for a while. Keep ya company and cheer you up. Cain’t have gettin’ all akumatized up in here, you reckon?”

Not that Lila getting akumatized was even a concern anymore. But the world wouldn’t know about Hawkmoth’s surrender until Emilie’s fate was resolved. Adrien’s family deserved that much at least.

“Oh Adrien!” Lila cried. “You really are such a wonderful friend. But I couldn’t bear to make you move on my behalf. You need to focus on your work.”

“A cowboy needs to be exceptional at multitasking. That is, as long as Mrs. Brassiere is okay with it.”

Miss Bustier pinched the bridge of her nose. Usually, she was a very calm and level-headed teacher, compassionate and understanding. But Adrien’s antics were stressing her out massively. “Yes, Adrien, I suppose it’s fine if you move to—what did you call me?”

“Much obliged, Madam. If’en you’ll excuse me...”

Marinette watched with fascination as Plagg gathered up his materials and moved to the back of the class to sit next to Lila. Then she glanced in her purse, where Tikki and Adrien were hanging out. They both shrugged.

Due to the retirement of Hawkmoth, Adrien was now allowed to spend time away from the Miraculous without consequence. Plagg assured him that once the final condition was met, no matter where he was, his soul would return to his body.

So he spent the school day with Tikki, and the evenings with Marinette. It was a sweet deal, and it really gave Adrien the time to bond with her without school or akumas in the way.

He had even spent the night with her the night before, curled up next to her on her pillow, and purring every time Marinette’s hand glanced his fur.

Nino leaned back in his seat. “Do you know what he’s up to this time?”

“No idea...but I am eager to see where this goes.”

Nino shook his head with a shrug. Two nights ago, when Plagg was arrested, Nino gathered all the money in his savings and went down to the jail to bail him out.

Only to find out he was already let go.

So he went back home, and called Adrien’s phone relentlessly, hoping for an answer.

Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, Chat Noir returned and explained that he was going home now, thanks for having him, he had to watch the mansion because his sort of repentant father was going to Tibet to resurrect his dead wife.

Nino gave up on logic and understanding, and just made sure Plagg had everything he had brought.

Now he would wait until the whole situation blew over, and hopefully Adrien himself, in his own body, would explain it all to him. Plagg seemed to oversimplify everything to the point it became vague.

Marinette, on the other hand, was very curious to see where this was all going. After all, Adrien’s previous tactic of being nice to Lila hadn’t worked. So what was Plagg hoping to gain from the same approach?

Wrassle her with his randomly appointed cowboy charm?

In science, two classes later, Plagg had elected to sit next to Lila still, despite her protests.

Marinette was close enough now to hear what Plagg’s master plan was.

“So there’s like several types of Mer, right? But not like mermaids. This has nothing to do with mermaids. These are mostly elves, but not all. So there’s Dunmer, right? Those are dark elves. And Bosmer, wood elves, and Altmer, high elves. The Falmer are snow elves, but they’re all twisted and savage, because of the Dwemer, which are dwarves!”

Marinette snorted a bit too loudly, drawing attention from the teacher.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, is something funny?”

“No ma’am, I had a tickle in my sinuses.”

“Ah, I see. Anyways, as I was saying...”

Lila always sat in the back of the class, despite her many alleged disabilities. This was probably to get away with the fact that she rarely paid attention during class.

It was the ideal place for Plagg to harass her and not get caught.

Poetry in motion.

“So you get to pick what race you want to be, but you’re always the Dragonborn. Despite the description, you don’t look any different. So a Dragonborn is someone that can devour the souls of dragons so they don’t get resurrected by Alduin. Let me back up, Alduin is an evil dragon that used to rule the world, and he’s resurrecting dragons so he can take over. There’s another dragon though, named Paarthanax, and he’s a good guy. He helps out the Tongues on the Throat of the World. Or the greybeards. Some call them Tongues, but in the game they’re called Graybeards. And the tongues are the monks that teach you to shout. And different shouts teach you different things, right? The dragonborn and the tongues are the only ones that are supposed to know how to shout, but there’s this other dude named Ulfric Stormcloak, and he knows Unrelenting Force, that’s the Fus Ro Da shout I was talking about earlier? He used it to kill high king Torygg to start a war. Oh yeah, so there’s nine holds with Jarls, right—“

The day ended, and Lila stood quickly. “Well Adrien, thank you so much for keeping me company today. I’m feeling a lot better. You can move back up to your old spot tomorrow.”

“Well, you shore are welcome, Pardner. But sittin here in the back has been mighty nice. I think I’ll stay! You don’t mind, do ya? It’s awfully fun to have you as company!”

Lila’s eye twitched, but she was aware that most of the class was watching them. “Yeah. That’d be...great.”

“Darn tootin’! Well, you look like you’re in a rush, don’t want to hold you up!”

“See you tomorrow!” She chirped, before hurrying from the room. As she passed Marinette, a dark look came over her face. The look of someone seething with rage and hatred, but trying to hide it.

Marinette would have been scared, if Lila hadn’t been dealing with Plagg instead.

Marinette went home, Tikki and Adrien talking to her from her collar.

“I don’t know. Plagg was successful with the first two tasks, but I don’t know how he’s going to turn Lila over to the good side.” Marinette mused.

“I don’t know if he has to. The condition is to just get her to leave me alone. He said he was doing some Pavlovian Jedi mind trick on her.”

“Well, I sure hope it works. Speaking of, where is Plagg?”

Adrien’s ears flicked. “He left pretty suddenly after class. I didn’t see him go. Hopefully, he went back to the mansion.”

“Do you want me to call him?”

“No, I trust him. He’s got things under control.”

“Glad to hear it! Ready for snack time?”

“Oh heck yes!”

—

Lila had to actively stop herself from stomping all the way home. Frustration rolled off of her in waves, and she mildly wondered why she hadn’t been akumatized yet.

Adrien Agreste was the most annoying person she had ever met. And oblivious too! He never picked up on any of her subtle hints to get him to shut up! She really didn’t want to be rude, because his friendship looked great on her, but wow. No wonder he didn’t have any friends. No wonder Gabriel was so protective of him. If he wasn’t cute...his personality was like a wet sock.

And he was weird. Weird mannerisms, weird speech pattern, just weird. Hopefully she could either get used to it, or Adrien would get a clue to stop being so obnoxious.

Finally, she reached her apartment.

“Home mom!” She called.

There was laughter in the kitchen. Her mother had a guest. While not uncommon, there was just a hint of dread that hung in the air.

Lila walked to the kitchen, only to see Adrien sitting at the table, talking to her mother! How?! How did he beat her here?! How did he know where she lived?! What the hell was he doing?!

“Adrien?” Lila gawked.

He rubbed his head awkwardly. “Sorry for popping in uninvited. I just...I was worried about you! You’ve been akumatized twice, and I didn’t want it to happen again since you were fired.”

Lila’s face paled as her mother gave her a stern look.

“I think you’ve got some explaining to do, Missy. I didn’t know you were modeling. And you never told me about being akumatized!”

Adrien gasped. “Oh no! She didn’t tell you? I’m so sorry! I didn’t know that was a secret! I won’t say anymore!”

“Any more?” Mrs. Rossi asked. “There’s more?”

“Adrien.” Lila bit, in warning.

“Well...I mean, you knew she was meeting with my father right? Something about being his muse?”

Mrs. Rossi looked horrified. “What! You were talking to a grown adult man?! Were these visits supervised?!”

Lila opened her mouth to answer, but Plagg beat her to it. “I don’t think so. Father is a very private person.”

“Lila Giselle Rossi! You are sooo grounded! No offense to your father, Adrien, but meeting up with an adult man, unsupervised? And to what, be his muse? What does that even mean? It sounds gross!”

“I swear nothing happened! He just wanted my opinion-”

“On what? What reason would he have to ask a 14 year old’s opinion?”

Plagg winced and looked at Lila. “I’m so sorry, Lila. I came here to help, but...”

Lila shook with rage. Her mother was a complete pushover and believed everything she said. Now Adrien had sewn the seeds of distrust in her and she wouldn’t get away with any white lies ever again.

“You’re dead,” She mouthed at Plagg.

“Adrien, thank you for coming here and telling me all of this. I’m very grateful. But I think it’s best if you head home now. Lila has some chores to do.”

“I understand, Madam Rossi. Again, I’m really sorry...I just wanted to help.”

“Oh don’t worry, you did. This is for Lila’s own good.”

He sheepishly looked to her. “See you tomorrow?”

Her eye twitched. “Yeah.”

And Plagg swiftly walked from the apartment, concealing his evil laughter until he got to the door.

—

The next day at school, Marinette, along with Tikki and Adrien in her bag, arrived at school just a few minutes before the bell rang.

Plagg was sitting at the front of the room, wearing a Pikachu onesie, and looking absolutely devastated. Nino sat next to him and had a hand over his face, doing his best to conceal whatever emotion he had.

Everyone else in the room was avoiding them like they had the plague.

Alya spotted her and came quickly, looping an arm through hers and escorting them out into the hall. “Girl, big news. I know you love Adrien, so this is going to be a blow. But here’s the thing...Lila told us this morning that Adrien came to her house yesterday and told her mom about her modeling job. Apparently, her mom didn’t want her working, and got upset that Lila lied. Adrien’s been insisting that it wasn’t on purpose, but everyone is kind of pissed at him anyway.”

Marinette said nothing, but bit her lip. She knew that this absolutely was on purpose.

“I’ll leave your actions up to you, but people are pretty mad at Adrien. Just letting you know.”

“Who’s side are you taking?”

Alya scoffed. “None. I’m staying out of this. Both people are in the right. Obviously Sunshine just wanted to prevent her from being akumatized. He was with her all day yesterday. It’s admirable, really.”

“It is.” Marinette said with a smile. Though she was smiling for a completely different reason. There were no akumatizations anymore. Everyone was safe now.

“We better get back in there, class will start soon.”

So they returned. Miss Bustier was in, and ready to begin the lesson.

Then Plagg raised his hand.

“Yes Adrien?”

“Before we start class, I want to say something.”

“Go ahead, Adrien. The floor is yours.”

He stood, and looked to Lila in the back of the room. “Lila, I know I apologized yesterday, but I’m really really sorry about outing you to your mom. I had no idea she didn’t know about your rendezvous with my father. I was just really scared that you were going to become akumatized, and I didn’t want that to happen. My friends are all important to me, and losing you would be like ripping out a piece of my heart. Could you ever forgive me?”

Marinette glanced Nino’s face, which twitched to hide a smile. Then she looked at Lila, who looked calm, but her hands were balled into fists.

After many breathless minutes, Lila smiled slightly. “I understand, Adrien. Of course you’re still my friend. I treasure you too! I’m sorry I got so mad.”

“Hugs?” Plagg raised his arms.

Lila could pretend to be happy and calm, but the paling of her skin could not be hidden. “Hugs!”

Plagg brought her in for a squeeze, and the class ‘aww’ed at their make up.

Except Nino, who let out the tiniest snort.

Marinette flicked open her purse to look at Adrien. He mimed a gagging gesture back.

And then Plagg took those last couple steps and joined Lila on her bench. No one tried to stop him. No one spoke up and said, “hey, maybe you should give her some space anyway.”

They just all let poor, socially awkward Adrien push boundaries and take his seat. Because he had apologized so earnestly for trying to help. And she had forgiven him. So everything was fine now.

Right?

As the lesson started, Marinette paid attention to the teacher. But occasionally, she’d hear the faintest whispers of Adrien’s voice (Plagg’s voice now).

“...so it’s commonly believed that the Nord’s came from Atmora with Ysgramor, but they believe that they settled Skyrim, so they’re kind of racist to everyone else. But also, the Empire came in out of nowhere and tried to upheave their way of life, and even told them which Gods they were allowed to worship. High King Torygg was playing cordial with the Aldmeri Dominion, and some of the other Jarl’s didn’t like that. So Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Whiterun shouted him to death. Just like the Dragonborn can. Though it’s never explained why he knows how to do this. So this started a whole civil war…”

Marinette chanced a glance behind her, and noticed that Lila had her head in her hands, and she looked absolutely miserable.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #adrienette #adrien and plagg #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #identity reveal #chat noir #ladybug #fanfiction #I'll Handle This

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giggleandtears · 3 years

Text

Crimson Renegade, Part 3

What it feels like to match wits (With someone at your level)

Summary: Danvers and Kirk enjoy winding McCoy up

Pairings: OC/Jim Kirk(Platonic), OC/Leonard McCoy(Eventual Romance)

A/N: If you haven't seen Star Trek Discovery season 2, Pike makes it well worth it. ;-)

Enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Guiding me to the closest patient area, McCoy offers his hand to assist me in sliding onto the bio-bed. Jim quirks a brow at the chivalrous gesture but McCoy has already turned away to gather a few supplies for the exam. When Jim saddles up beside him, my mind runs wild with comparing the two men. Though they are roughly the same height, the air that surrounds them couldn’t be more different.

Jim’s flaxen hair, crystal blue eyes, and perfectly chiseled jawline, screams fairy tale prince more than captain. Unless you use Captain Pike, circa 2250, as a barometer. Jim’s the type to whisk you off for an idyllic weekend getaway in a cabin, nestled between snow-capped mountains. A roaring fire would await, champagne chilled and at the ready. I think Dr. McCoy would take a slightly different approach. The fire would remain, as would a refreshing beverage. But replace the champagne with bourbon laden hot chocolate. The cabin would stand resolute against the onslaught of swirling flurries, having been built with the strength of his bare hands. Jim and McCoy are two sides of the same coin but only one is commanding my full attention.

"Ok, what you playin' at?” McCoy whispers to Jim, like salt through a grinder. It’s not standard practice for the captain to escort an uninjured crew member to the Med-bay just for a friendly hello. Jim looks on in unabashed amusement and lets McCoy continue his tirade. “We almost got shot to tarnation and you’re here to introduce a woman? Good god man! Have you no shame?” He says in a huff, gathering and regathering the same tricorder and PADD. “Are those boots even regulation?”

“They are.” I chime in sweetly, like honey flowing fresh from the comb. The boys slowly turn at McCoy’s covert mutterings being so easily overheard. “But the tights sadly are not, yet.”

Walking over to me, McCoy places the PADD beside me and can’t stop his eyes from wandering down. Under further inspection, my boots are indeed regulation, stopping just above my calves. The tights, however, are of my own design. Dark mesh blends expertly with my boots before shifting into a less opaque hue, coming to a point over my knee. Tracing McCoy’s gaze downward, I completely understand why the higher hemline of my dress uniform and the illusion of knee-high boots leaves the doctor’s mouth a bit parched.

Clearing his voice before he continues, McCoy begins to run the tricorder around my head, then on a steady path from my forehead to abdomen and back. “So, what brings you to our favorite tin can in the sky?”

“I'm working on a new shield prototype with Scotty. Can't steal your head engineer, so here I am.”

“At least he's not on that ice planet anymore.” Jim says, with a nearly imperceptible shiver.

“You always say that, but I had fun on Hoth.”

Shaking his head, Jim snorts wryly. “You’re about the only one.”

McCoy raises his brow at the name, no doubt never hearing of that planet in any star system. Sadly, that also means his knowledge of historical fiction is sorely lacking. How it’s not a more beloved genre is beyond me. Jim mouths ‘You don’t want to know’ to McCoy and lets it drop.

“Keenser’s hooch always kept me warm. And what else do you really need besides that and good company?” I say. “Besides, it never seemed to be as cold as everyone whined it was.”

A small smile highlights McCoy’s handsome features as he continues my scan. Although the warmth of his smile is unmistakable, the delicate lines around his eyes seem to narrate a tale of inner weariness. Something tells me coffee, a nap, or even a stiff drink couldn’t lessen whatever’s weighting on his shoulders.

Returning to the conversation at hand, McCoy’s asks about my position on the Enterprise. “If you're a commander, doesn’t that make you chief engineer?”

“A commander is usually the head of a department. If Scotty needs me, I’ll be there to lend a hand but the prototype is my first priority.”

McCoy hums lowly in understanding, although his gaze has been diverted. He's concentrating deeply on the tricorder in his hands. After each tap of the device, his expressive brows grow closer and closer together.

“Something wrong?”

“Yea.” McCoy begins in a huff. “This darn thing is on the fritz again. I tried a few tricks Scotty taught me but nothin’s workin’. I assumed you were human and bypassed the initial scan but that didn’t help. You are human right?”

“To my knowledge, I am. Is trans-species a thing?”

“You’d be surprised.” McCoy says wryly. “All I got was you’re alive, but a bucktooth gopher in a melon patch is less obvious than that.”

I fail at holding back a snort. “I have absolutely no idea what that means but it was certainly entertaining.” Offering to take a look, I extend my hand. “Let me see.” The blueprint for each circuit board and screen readout, run through my brain with ease. Fiddling with the small piece of technology is as natural as breathing. Feeling the heavy gaze of a man no more than 2 paces away from me, is not. Widening his stance, McCoy impatiently crosses his arms after I open the back of the tricorder. I don’t think my brooding companion takes kindly to anything impeding his work, especially a pesky piece of equipment. “The circuits and connectors are in perfect condition, not charred or corroded. So, it must be a programming issue.” Replacing the back of the tricorder, I widen a few scan parameters and disable a couple more, then hand it back to McCoy. “Here, try this.”

After restarting the scan, the familiar steady beeps resume.

“Well how ‘bout that.” McCoy says, with quiet astonishment. “How’d you know to do that?”

Swinging my legs like a schoolgirl, “Engineers are more than contraband and a good time, Dr. McCoy.” I say, with cock my head and a cheeky grin. “Or haven’t you heard?”

“I’ve heard a lot of things but that don’t make’em true.”

Leaning the tiniest bit forward, “Is that a challenge?”

McCoy meets my eye with a sumptuous quirk of his brow. “Only if you can deliver.”

A smile slowly spreads across my face. His steady gaze is electric, sending waves of heat to tickle my skin. Neither of us is backing down. With each passing millisecond something becomes abundantly clear; I am in trouble. Jim clears his throat, breaking us of the spell neither of us intended to cast. Honestly, I forgot Jim was even here.

Leaning back, I straighten my spine and clasp my hands in my lap. Professional as always. “So, did your scan turn up anything interesting?”

“Yea. Are you always this hot?” McCoy asks innocently, without any trace of innuendo.

This is just too easy.

Before I can reply, McCoy corrects himself. “Is your temperature always this high?”

He’s learning

“Yes. My temperature is usually above average for most humans. 99.3 to 102.4 is normal for me.”

“That’s oddly specific.”

Smiling, “I thought doctors liked specificity.”

I expected to hear a smart quip but it never comes. McCoy’s face has grown dark.

“There’s also a fair bit of pressure at your temples and occipital lobe.”

Jim stiffens, instantly on alert. A nervous stab blooms in my stomach. I just got here. I can’t be grounded already. McCoy places a calming hand on my shoulder but addresses Jim. Silently they spar, only using their expressive eyes to communicate. I can read Jim like a well-trained empath but McCoy is a completely different beast. The altercation only lasts a few seconds but the decision is final.

Jim sighs and stuffs his hands roughly in his pockets. “I’ll be right over there, ok?” After nodding, he saunters up to nurse and starts a friendly conversation. Jim manages to only look back once, our concerned expressions mirroring each other.

“If only he was as protective with himself as the rest of us.” McCoy says.

Smiling weakly, I hum in agreement. With an ever-increasing nervous energy, I pick at the jagged edge of my thumb nail. I’m willing the pressure in my head to subside before McCoy takes the tricorder to me again.

As if I'm a doe in a wooden glen that’s easily spooked, McCoy speaks much softer than before. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad is the pain?”

I rub my forehead. “5, maybe.” Even to my own ears, it sounds more like a question than an answer.

McCoy stares at me disapprovingly. Maybe I don’t have as good a poker face as I thought. He asks how long I've been having headaches and if they make my duties more difficult. I have to think back but it's been over 6 months. I can handle the pain but the dizziness that sometimes accompany them is harder to shake off. I've been found in a dark supply closet more times than I care to count. McCoy bobs his head with each detail I recount, though his lips remain pursed. He picks up the tricorder once again but decides to hand it off to a passing nurse.

“Do hypos help with the pain?” McCoy asks. Vigorously rubbing his hands together, he steps forward. Meticulously, he feels around my throat and neck.

“Only for a few hours.” I answer honestly.

“What did your last physician say about them?”

“Since I could still fulfill my duties, not to worry until that changed.”

McCoy’s hands still. Exhaling harshly, his nostrils flare. “What kinda bonehead, idiotic...” With a sigh, McCoy calms himself. Letting the matter drop, he continues his exam. McCoy softly eases my head to the side to rest in his large palm. His nimble fingers purposefully flutter up and down the tendons in my neck, even into my shoulder blade. When he tilts my head back, I can’t help but stare. McCoy is so, determined. It’s as if my pain and discomfort are the only thing important to him. For a moment he closes his eyes to concentrate more intently on what he feels beneath his fingers. Smiling to myself, I close my own eyes before I’m caught.

A slight sting radiates at the base of my neck where McCoy was focusing his attention. His deft fingers and what I suspect was a sly hypo start to alleviate the pressure that’s been building for hours. Releasing a heavenly sigh of relief, I slowly blink open my eyes. Having them closed for only a few short moments; my lids have become quite heavy.

McCoy tips my head back with a knuckle under my chin. When my eyes catch the light, he inhales suddenly. “Well I’ll be-.” He whispers, astonished. He slowly moves forward as if an invisible string is pulling us together. I’m enveloped by his impressive stature. His warmth seems to seep into my every pore and somehow, I already know I’ll miss it when he moves away. A sly smirk creeps onto my lips when McCoy’s eyes round in amazement. Imaging myself through his eyes is intriguing. Warm brown eyes of amber with flecks of maroon. It’s a fairly typical combination in this day and age, except they weren’t always like this. The longer the light shines in my eyes, the red specs bend and shift until it nearly overtakes the brown. I found the change to be off-putting at first but I've grown to like it.

McCoy leans in closer and cocks his head to the side. “Retinal morphic photoplasia.” Taking a pen light out his pocket and sweeps it over my eyes. “With a nearly a 47% increase in your concentering rate. That’s mighty rare.”

I shrug nonchalantly. “Yea. It’s just one of my many tricks.”

McCoy smirks until he realizes how close he is to me. His hand has inched up from my neck and is cradling my cheek in his palm. Clearing his throat, he gently guides my head down and releases me. Dr. McCoy returns to his PADD, tapping harshly. His faced is etched in frustration as he mumbles to himself. I sigh inwardly. I miss the teasing back and forth, the banter. I’d even settle for Mr. Grumpy Pants.

I speak as light and airy as possible. “So, am I dying Doc?”

“No!” McCoy says, jerking upright. “Why would you go and say somethin’ like that?”

“Because you're looking at my readings like I have the plague.”

“Now that would be a magic trick, since it's been cured for over 600 years.” Sighing, McCoy places the PADD down. “I’m just not too keen on mysteries in my Medbay.”

McCoy explains my scans are in normal ranges, though a little odd. The headaches could be stress related but he’s concerned about the duration. Since I can't think of any triggers and I couldn’t have come into contact with any alien contagions, McCoy decides to take a few samples and run some more extensive test. After getting a nurse up to speed, McCoy gives me some very pointed instruction. “Tell me immediately if the headaches get worse. It doesn’t matter if you can still do your duties.”

“Sure thing, Dr. McCoy.” His name rolls easily off my tongue. However, McCoy’s pinched expression looks like his mama forgot to sweeten his lemonade. “Did I say something wrong?”

He shakes his head ‘no’ but doesn’t offer any further explanation for his sour expression. I’m starting to think maybe that’s just his face.

Shaking it off, “So, am I good to go?”

“Yes ma’am. No palpations, fever, or hives to speak of.” McCoy drawls.

Smiling, “Great! Thanks Doc. I'll try to keep it that way.” Hopping off the bio-bed, I look around the Medbay. “Now where did my escort get to?”

“Jim,” McCoy says, hollering over his shoulder. “Don’t you have a ship to run?”

Jim says a few last words to an utterly bewitched nurse and walks away. He leisurely walks over, smiling to himself. “So, what I miss?”

“I don’t know. Home trainin’?” McCoy says, dismissively. I snort softly into my hand and McCoy rewards me with a small smile. But Jim’s piercing gaze is squarely on McCoy, waiting for my results.

McCoy answers simply, all joking aside. “The commander is cleared for duty-”

“Glad to hear it!” Jim says. His jovial-self returning.

“And she knows where to find me if that changes.” McCoy gives me another pointed look for good measure.

Inwardly I chuckle to myself but stand straight at attention. I give the doctor an emphatic though comical two-finger salute. I know we haven’t had an active military in centuries and technically McCoy and I have equal rank. But he understands me nonetheless. Or I should say we understand each other. If my condition changes and I don’t tell him, he will hunt me down and there will be hell to pay. McCoy nods curtly, satisfied with my answer. After a beat, his eyes soften and the corner of his mouth lifts just a touch. Relaxing again, I smile in return.

Jim sees our mostly silent exchange and shakes his head. He looks like the cat that caught the canary and I’m not sure I like where this is headed. “You know I always thought you two would get along.” Jim may be right but that doesn’t mean he has to point it out. “You never let me have any fun.” Oh, how I wish that was true. “Both of you can drink me under the table.” True. Jim pauses for good measure. “And you both hate people.”

And there it is.

Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“For Christ's sake-” McCoy growls.

“I do not hate people!" We say in perfect unison.

Slowly, McCoy and I look at each other with the same horrified expression. Brows in our hairlines, eyes bugging out and mouth agape. We even mirrored each other’s tilted head. Neither of us know how to address what just happened, so we quickly act like it didn’t. McCoy becomes intensely interested in his PADD and I kick myself at falling for Jim’s bait so easily. His smirk is already insufferable but I do address his previous assertion.

“After an 8-hour shift, who wants to be around people that can't hold a conversation, let alone a drink?” I ask rhetorically.

“Couldn’t agree more darlin'.” McCoy says, clearly on my side.

Trying to bite the inside of my cheek does little to disguise my smile. “Thank you.” I’m not sure what garners my appreciation more, his immediate understanding or being called darlin'. I haven't been called that particular term of endearment since I was a child. Oddly, I’m not averse to it. Especially coming from the doctor’s lips.

“Wait,” Jim interjects, “are you finally admitting there are people you don’t like Commander?”

“Yes, and you are quickly becoming one of them Captain.”

This is quickly ramping up into a tit for tat situation and McCoy is having none of it. “Jim, can you let my patient get a hot meal before you start up again?”

Snickering, I mouth ‘Thank you’ and head for the door. As the doors slide open, I stop and look behind me. Jim is slowly walking with his back towards the door, whispering something to McCoy. I don’t know what he’s saying but McCoy crossed his arms in a huff. “Jim, you coming?” Jim turns smoothly on his heel, not missing a beat. The moment Jim’s back is to McCoy something peculiar happens. His arms drop and he … chuckles. His broad shoulders gently shake until he sighs to himself. For a moment he stares into space. The makings of a smile start to form-

“Danny, you coming?”

Jumping slightly, I turn towards Jim’s voice. He’s mere inches from my ear. After scowling in his general direction, I try to get one more glance at McCoy but he’s already gone. We walk in companionable silence toward my quarters but Jim is determined to spoil it. He keeps smirking like he has a secret every time he catches my eye. Its driving me nuts.

Exhaling slowly, I mourn my sanity. “I know you have something to say. Spit it out.”

Jim shrugs nonchalantly but smiles nonetheless. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just that you owe me a bottle of whiskey.”

#star trek #star trek aos #jim kirk #leonard mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy #bones #jim kirk/oc #leonard mccoy/oc #enterprise #star trek enterprise #red shirt #fanfic #fanfiction #jim kirk x oc #leonard mccoy x oc

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unleashedart · 3 years

Note

"I just needed to see you" for whoever you'd like!!

Thank you soooo much! I appreciate the asks v much!!!!

I’ll do it for Joy because she needs more love! Since I don’t talk about her that often I’ll give a quick profile.

OC: Joy Seed

The baby girl that Joseph though he sacrificed years ago. She survived, but at a cost. Due the attempt on her life when she was just hours old she has a severe stutter so she’s mostly mute and speaks in ASL. She also has several other disabilities. She was adopted out and hidden away from her birth family. Now that she's all grown up she's come to Hope County to bring her family to justice and reclaim the name Seed.

————

Joy looked at the man in front of her. He’s nothing like she ever imagined him. When you imagine your worst nightmare or your enemy you imagine this giant scary beast who is relentlessly cruel and evil, but before her was just a man. A man who’s charm and teachings gave birth to an entire cult strong enough to take over a whole county.

The man who decided with one action to destroy her whole life. Every time she struggled to speak. Every time someone doubted her abilities. Every penny her parents had to pay for her healthcare. All of it was because this one man decided she didn’t deserve to live.

She held his gaze and refused to back down. Neither of them said anything for a while. She was kneeling in front of him in that silly Church where it all started. He walked towards her.

“I just needed to see you,” he said breaking the silence. “You look so much like your mother.”

He gently took her face into his hands and rubbed her cheek affectionately.

“But you have my eyes,” he murmured.

Joy just glared at him. He moved his hands from her face to her hair. He gently pulled out her half ponytail she always preferred and gathered her hair together before twisting it up into a bun like his.

She growled slightly at the realization and moved her hands up to swat his away.

“Since I am your father now, there will be punishment for your actions.” Joseph said simply.

Joy slowly put her hands down. She was sure Joseph didn’t mean time out or taking away privileges when he said punishment. She decided to pick and choose her battles. Her hair in a bun was not worth it. Joseph finished with the bun and gently pat her on the head.

“Good girl.”

John, Jacob, and Faith walked into the Church and looked at her curiously. They didn’t say a word though as they gather around Joseph and greeted him. Joseph gestured towards her.

“This is my daughter. I thought she was to be sacrificed to the Lord, but as you can see she has been returned to me. I have shown my faith and commitment to Him and now He has given me this gift in return.” Joseph smiled at her. “Each of you shall take her to your region and teach her what it is you do. Show her our ways.”

“Yes, Joseph.” They all said obediently.

Joseph walked over to where she was kneeling and held out his hands. She hesitatly put her hands in his and he slowly pulled her from kneeling to standing.

He pulled her into a hug and whispered in her ear, “I’m so happy you came home to us.”

He let her go and stepped back. He motioned for each of the siblings to greet her. John walked up first. He gave her a stiff hug and refused to make eye contact. Faith walked up next and gave her a crushing hug.

“We are going to have so much fun together,” she giggled.

She walked off and Jacob walked over. Joy looked at him nervously. He was large and intimidating. She was also pretty sure he put her in the weak category without any hesitation. She was nervous what he was going do. Instead he pulled her in for a hug and held her more gently than she expected.

She watched him curiously as he let her go and walked off to the side again. She remembered that he was the oldest. He was probably most used to dealing with younger people. She wondered if he missed it. Being an older brother.

Joseph appeared back in front of her, “you will be my legacy. You will carry on the project long after I am gone. You will their leader and continued what we have started.”

Joy felt like she had been drenched in ice water. He wanted her to not only become a part of this crazy cult but to lead it. She felt sick. She suddenly missed home. She wanted to go back to her adoptive parents. Her real parents. The ones who raised her and made her who she was. She didn’t want this crazy man.

“You can speak, can’t you? You understand your new role?” Joseph asked.

Joy’s tongue felt heavy, “y-y-y-yes.”

She suddenly realized how out of her depth she was.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #joy seed #john seed #fanfic #tagged #joseph seed #Jacob seed #faith seed #far cry deputy #deputy oc

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calumance · 4 years

Text

Wake up, Sunshine - Part 3

Warnings: Cursing, anxiety attacks, car accident, still mostly fluff.

Summary: As much as Addy wanted to hide everything from Calum, there was just something about him that made her want to tell him everything. Maybe now was the right time to tell him.

Word count: 3k

A/N: This is the third and final part to my piece that I wrote for disabled!sos day, and idea that came from the lovely @skinnylukes. A day that is meant to encourage more disability-inclusive writing in the 5SOS community. I enjoyed writing for this project, and it was a huge honor to be a part of it. Hope you all have fun reading, and are staying safe and healthy. Lots of love!! 😊

Part 1 | Part 2

It’s been about six months since I told Calum about the accident. That night, we stayed up until the sun came up talking about it. He asked me questions about the healing process and how I got used to walking with a mechanical leg. The only time I felt even the slightest bit uncomfortable is when he asked me to take it off. I had hesitated, but I did it, I even took off the stocking I wore to prevent horrible chafing. He had gasped when he saw the scar. His fingers grazed it as he continued to tell me how sorry he was that I went through this. I had shown him the pictures I had, including the most gruesome ones. We cried together the night, but I feel that’s what truly built our bond.

From that moment on, it was like we could never leave each other’s side. We both did our daily routines, I went on a run, then I went to work, he’d work too, but the second I’d get back to his place, we couldn’t leave the room without the other one following. It didn’t take us long to agree to live with each other, it was easier that way, and it wasn’t long until he asked to join me on my morning runs. That was something that I felt the most scared about. I still hadn’t quite gotten the motion down, and I didn’t want him to see me like that, but he made no comments about it. Just ran next to me, talking like everything was normal.

The day I did finally get the motion down was one we celebrated. I yelled in the middle of the stride and told him that I finally got it, he held his hands up in victory and when we finished the path back at his house, he pressed a hard kiss to my lips and told me how proud of me he was. It wasn’t long after that day they he left to go on tour. The house was lonely without him, my morning runs were lonely without him. Everything was weird without him. As much as I loved having Duke as company, I needed to feel the warmth of his body against mine again. Thank god he was coming home for a break today.

I spent most of the day pacing around the house, just waiting for him to walk through the front door. When he did finally get home, I was standing by the front door. When he saw me, he dropped his bags and threw his arms around me, lips pressing against mine with need. A need that I felt as well. He pulled his lips away from mine, “I missed you so much,” he whispered. My heart fluttered, I missed him too, more than I could ever explain. “Can I take you out to dinner tonight? To a fancy restaurant?” His right thumb rubbed my cheek, and I smiled at the idea, but how fancy was he thinking?

My throat worked, thinking about it. “How fancy? I don’t know if I have anything fancy to wear.” He smirked, then told me that he wants to take me to a five-star restaurant. “I don’t have anything to wear to that kind of place.”

“Go shopping, take Crystal with you.” As fun as that sounded, I didn’t want to. I wanted to spend the whole day pressed against him. “I’ll be here when you get back, I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”

Crystal picked me up about fifteen minutes later. The normal anxiety attack ensued while she drove. I had to pace in the parking lot for a minute before we could go into the mall, but Crystal was patient, she knew hoe hard car rides were for me. She knew how much I hated that I couldn’t stop the anxiety attack until I was out of the car. Every time I wished I could just get over it, but every time I think about the crunching sound the car made as the other one collided with our car.

We made it into the store, and I started looking at all of the floor length dresses. We had only gone out a few times, but when we did go out, I wore something that covered my leg. He had asked me why, and I confessed to him that I didn’t want the whole world to know. He proceeded to tell me to ignore what anyone had to say, but I still didn’t feel comfortable with it, so he didn’t fight me anymore.

Crystal caught sight of me looking at the floor length dresses and grabbed my hand. “Stop hiding who you are, Addy. I know that it’s hard to expose yourself to the whole world, but if Calum doesn’t care, then why should you?” My hands were shaking at the thought of showing my leg off.

My voice trembled as I spoke, “What if they say horrible things about me?”

Crystal scoffed and started sorting through a rack of clothing, “People say horrible things in general, bionic leg or not. Unfortunately, that’s a side effect of being with someone famous. Trust me, I know.” He eyes lit up when she reached a certain dress. “This one is perfect.” She held up a black dress, cut into a love V in the front, the skirt of the dress being high in the front, low in the back. “Go try it on!”

I stood in front of the mirror with the dress on, my leg incredibly visible. Even though I wasn’t, I felt naked. “I don’t know Crystal, this shows off a lot.” I called through the door of the dressing room, still staring at myself in the mirror.

I could hear her get closer to the door, “Can I see it before you make any rash decisions?” With a sigh, I turned around and opened the door. I stayed inside the walls of the dressing room as he looked at me, her eyes lighting up. “You look amazing in that dress, Addy. Calum will absolutely swoon over you. You have to get it, please.”

Somehow, probably with some Jedi mind trick, she managed to convince me to get the dress, and a pair of black flats that laced up my ankle. WE continued to shop around for a while, but I was good with just the dress and shoes. My confidence already shot by the thought of exposing my leg to the whole world.

Crystal waited to drive away until I was able to go inside with composure. When I walked through the front door of the house, it was quiet, the only thing I could hear was the soft sound of music. When I looked at the floor, there were rose pedals the lead from the front door down the hallway toward the bedroom. My eyebrows stitched together in confusion, but I set my stuff down on the ground and followed the trail. The trail lead into the bedroom but continued into the bathroom. My eyes flickered around the bedroom, Calum was nowhere to be found. When I continued to the bathroom, I found him sitting on the edge of the bathtub, holding a single rose. There were candles lit all around the bathtub, and the tub was full of water and rose pedals floating. “What’s going on, Calum?” I asked with a smile stretching across my lips.

He smiled and stood up, stretching his hand out towards me. When my hand landed in his, he gently pulled me towards him and he handed me the rose. With a smile, I took it from him and took in the florally scent. “I missed you so much, today is going to be all about us. I prepared you a bath, you can take it alone if you want, or I can stay in here with you, it’s up to you.” He turned toward the bathtub for a second and then back at me. Suddenly, I realized how difficult it would be to get into the bath by myself, so I asked him to stay with me.

I’d never asked him to help me like this. He’s seen me without my prosthetic plenty of times now, but never in this type of situation. I hated asking him for help, even though he told me that I was being ridiculous. My ex never wanted to help me, I told him. He didn’t, after the accident, that easily could’ve killed both of us, he found everything I needed to be an annoyance. I always had to remind him that I shouldn’t have even survived, which seemed to annoy him even further.

As I sat on the edge of the bathtub, I took my bionic leg off and spun so that my right leg was in the water. That’s when Calum found his spot behind me and I grabbed his arm for leverage. He helped me bounce over to the end of the bathtub, which is when he put his arms under my armpits and he held me up as I my body slid into the warm water. As I settled into the water, I thanked him sheepishly. He ran his hand through my hair and kissed the top of my head. “It’s not a problem, baby.”

He stayed in the bathroom with me, humming a song as he massaged my shoulders. It was when he moved to my hair and massages my scalp that the words finally slipped out of my mouth, “I love you, Calum.” We had never spoken those words to each other, even though we knew we were in love. Those words just weren’t the ones we usually used. My eyes opened, surprised the words slipped through. When I looked up at him, he was smiling.

He leaned forward and pressed a gently kiss to my forehead. “I love you too, Addy, more than anything in this world.” We continued to laugh and talk and enjoy each other’s company while sitting in the bathroom. When I decided I wanted to get out, he put his arms back under my armpits and helped me stand up. He helped me sit on the edge of the bathtub and he took a few steps towards the closet that had all of the towels in it. The fabric felt soft against my skin as he wrapped it around me. He helped me dry off before I pulled my stocking and my prosthetic on.

When it was time to get ready, I took more time than I actually needed to get ready, but I wanted to feel good since I was going to be exposing so much of myself. The final touch was putting my dress on, and after I laced up the flats, I stepped in front of the mirror to look at myself. As much as I hated showing off the fact that I am part bionic, I felt good about myself. For once I was actually excited to step out with Calum. People could say whatever they wanted about me. I knew he loved me for who I was, and that was absolutely empowering to me.

Calum was waiting by the front door for me, he was wearing a pair of black slacks, a red button up shirt, with the first few buttons undone, a leather jacket, and some black boots that I hadn’t seen him wear in a long time. His hair was styled for the first time in a while, and he just looked absolutely perfect. I stopped at a spot where he could see me and cleared my throat. He stopped pacing and looked at me. As soon as he saw me, his eyes lit up. He slowly made his way over to me, his hands snaking around my waist. “You’re not wearing a floor length dress.”

My head dropped as I shook my head, “No, Crystal talked me out of it. You can thank you for that one later.” My eyes met his again, and he let out a breathy laugh.

“You are absolutely beautiful, Addy. Not just now, every day.” He pressed a passionate kiss to my lips before grabbing my hand and leading me out to the car. My hand tightened in his before he let go of it to place his hands on either side of my face. “Take a deep breath with me.” I did as he asked, and he talked me through my anxiety. When I sat in the car, it was the first time in a long time that I wasn’t physically trembling. My heart was still racing, but my hands weren’t as sweaty as they usually were.

When we reached the restaurant, you could see the photographers waiting. “I’m sorry, sunshine, I had to make reservations so of course everyone knows we’re here. Do you want to go through the back?” The amount of people with cameras waiting intimidated me. A part of me wanted to take him up on his offer and go through the back, we’ve done it before. However, this time I wanted to take it on.

“No, let them take their pictures. Let them talk about me, I don’t care.” I tore my eyes off the photographers and looked at Calum who looked quite surprised. “Who cares what they have to say about me. I know you love me for who I am. None of what they have to say matters.” Calum smiled and leaned over the center console in his car to press a hasty kiss to my lips. The second he got out of the car the cameras started flashing. My chest raised with my breath, even though I acted tough, I was scared shitless. He opened my car door and I turned my whole body so I could step out onto my left foot. The flashes stopping momentarily as everyone got a glimpse of my metallic leg.

Calum grabbed my hand and squeezed it, reassuring me that everything was going to be okay. We walked together, hands laced together, the camera flashes picking back up. He held onto my hand while we waded our way through the crowd. I tried to ignore the rude comments being tossed towards me. They didn’t bother me as much as they bothered Calum, that was made obvious when he finally turned around, “That’s just plain rude, mate.” He said it as nicely as he could, but I could tell he was getting worked up. I put my hand on his chest and told him to keep walking.

When we got into the restaurant, his face was red with anger. His eyes locked on the people outside the front doors. My fingertips trailed down his cheek, pulling his eyes off them and back onto me. “It’s fine, we’re here to have a nice dinner. Remember what I said in the car? Nothing they say matters.”

His face softened, and he kissed me. “I know, but they were just being rude for no reason. They have no reason to say any of those things to you.” He grabbed my face and placed his forehead on mine, apologizing.

“Calum, you don’t need to apologize, everything is fine, let’s go have a nice dinner.” He nodded and turned to the man at the stand. The man took us all the way to the back of the restaurant into a private room, where he closed the door behind him after he told us the dinner and wine specials. It was nice to be in a room that was just us, no cameras, no people, just us and the wait staff.

A woman wearing a white chefs uniform came out to us, her hands clasped behind her back. She introduced herself as the sous chef, and that she had a wonderful meal planned out for us. Calum raised his eyebrows at me, silently telling me he knew how to treat me. The sous chef excused herself back into the kitchen as a waiter brought out a bottle of wine and poured it into our glasses. We cheered to our relationship and took a drink of our wine.

The whole night was perfect. Dinner, the wine, the bath I was able to take before dinner, everything. I was pretty sure that there was nothing else that would make this dinner better. That was until Calum reached across the table to grab my hand and looked me in the eyes with water lining his eyes. “Addy, can I tell you something?”

I squeezed his hand and nodded, “You can tell me anything, you know that.” I smiled, and he ran this thumb over my fingers. His throat working as he tried to conjure up the nerves to speak again.

He laughed nervously, “I know we’ve only been together for about six months, but those six months have felt like a lifetime to me. I never thought I would feel this way about a single person in my entire life. You are the reason I wake up every morning, you are the reason I smile, you just are my reason to be me.” The tears started to well up in my eyes, but my heart was racing, nervous about why he was telling me all of this. He let go of my hand and scooted his chair back. My hand flew to my chest, trying to keep my heart from beating it way out. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small red velvet box. I held my breath and he came closer to me and knelt down on one knee. “You are the love of my life, and I want to be able to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of my life.” He opened the box to reveal a beautiful rose gold ring with a bright white diamond sitting on the top. “Adeline Davis, will you marry me?”

The tears escaped my eyes and a sob hitched in my throat. My head nodded frantically, not able to actually get the word out of my throat. He pulled the ring out of the box and grabbed my left hand, slipping the ring onto my finger. The wait staffed clapped as he closed the space between us and we shared our first kiss and an engaged couple. I couldn’t wait to spend the rest of my life with him.

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azookiex3 · 5 years

Text

A Devil’s Love: Chapter 8

AN: I apologize for such long waiting updates! With S5 filming I now have a time limit. I want to get this story through S4 before S5 comes out. I will do my best to get updates out quicker!

Check out this story's playlist on Spotify! If you do, please read the description so you can see how the songs are organized!

Warnings: Swearing, Animal Deaths, Mentions of blood/painful injuries

AO3 , Fanfiction Net , Wattpad

Tag List: @insanity-is-always-fun @anushay1998 @emiwrites3reads @i-am-canada-13 @heart-of-pots-and-pans @tinyybiceps @jessicarene99

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Chapter 8: Shoot Me Stab Me

"Do you usually snoop through a woman's place?" You say sarcastically. You walk to the couch and plop down next to Lucifer. You sit sideways so you're facing him, and rest your left elbow on the back of the couch and use your hand to rest your head.

"No, but I'd much rather be snooping through your underwear drawer than these-" he shakes the letters in his hand, "atrocious words!"

You sigh, "Lucifer-"

"Have you told anyone about these?"

You look at him like he was being ridiculous, "No, of course not. Why'd you think I hid them?"

"Not even this one?" He holds up one of the letters, and you know exactly which one it is without even having to look.

"'You're going to regret stepping into my business, bitch. Boom.'" Lucifer shakes the paper once more and looks at you with an expression you can only describe as angry/desperate/worried, "Isn't this something you should tell that FBI agent about? He is still working on your bomb case, yes?"

"Yes he is and yes this is something I should have told him as soon as I got it, even the first letter. But Lucifer," you place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze, "There's a reason why I haven't. Not yet." You remove your hand and motion to all the papers he has, "Before I explain see if you can do me a favor. I wrote the time, date, and location on the back when I received these. Can you find any kind of pattern?"

Now he looks at you like you were being ridiculous, but he complies with your request. You watch his eyes read each time stamp with a strong intensity, but slouch your shoulders when you see his face scrunch up.

"That's what I figured." You sigh, "Alright. I was going to wait until we ate buuut I'll explain my theory I talked about in the car now." You start collecting the letters from Lucifer.

"First off, I'm 99% sure Roberto wrote these because of this last one." you hold the bomb threat, "Second, I think the messenger he's using is an inside source. More specifically: someone in my K9 division."

"You know of someone else who could send these kind of words to you?" Lucifer stares at you.

"That's what you gleaned from that?"

"At first yes. If you believe someone else is after you I'd very much like to know."

You sigh and rub your brow, "You don't need to know Lucifer."

"So there is then? Is it someone responsible for you having those nightmarish flashbacks?" He presses on.

"Lucifer, drop it." You say sternly. You both have a stare down. Then Lucifer looks away with an irritated sigh.

"Fine. I'll drop it, for now." He turns slightly on the couch to face you better and rests his clasped hands on his lap, "So, why are you so sure this Roberto fellow is writing these?"

You unclench your jaw and release some air. I got to stop being close to him, "Well, his is the only 'business' I've put myself between."

"And why do you think his inside is in the K9 division?"

"Because it makes sense. How else can a notorious dog fighting boss avoid the authorities so easily? Plus, these letters show up where I'm not or right when I've left." You sigh and place the letters back in the coffee table, "It has to be someone on my team, because I know no regular officer would care about my clinic, and these have only popped up there or at my office in the precinct."

"In a way, he's giving you the message that he's always watching you?" Lucifer says quietly.

You look at him sadly, "Yeah, and after the bomb went off in your club…" You sigh, "I'm really sorry about that by the way."

"Don't." He says sternly and raises a finger at you, "You're not the one that tried to end your life by placing a bomb under your car."

"But if I would have told someone about these letters sooner-"

"You're trusting your gut, K9. Being around the Detective for so long I can tell that's a good thing to do." He gives you a reassuring smile.

You smile back, "Thanks Lucifer. So, you want to help me out again? It seems I can't catch this backstabber myself."

"Help you catch the bloke who swore to protect humans but yet helping in trying to end your life with some dog boy?" His smile has bite in it, "You can count on me, K9. Always."

"Good." You close the coffee table and stand, "But we're eating first. Pizza?"

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"This backstabber better show himself quicker. The Detective is starting to get suspicious of all the time I'm spending here." Lucifer says on the phone to you as he side glances at Chloe inside Ella's lab.

You and him have been holding this stake out for a week now, and still no sign of the messenger. Lucifer watched the precinct while you stayed at your clinic.

"I told you we should switch it up." You reply to him. He imagines you rolling your eyes while you sit at your desk.

"You're certain you don't want to tell her? Clearly she's not in on it."

"Of course, but Chloe is a damn good detective. If this guy sees that she's hanging around my offices more they'll know what's up." He hears you chuckle lightly, "With you it just seems like you're being a weirdo, as usual."

"I beg your pardon?" Lucifer places a hand over his heart in feign shock. You must have heard it in his voice for you start to laugh. He smiles and settles more comfortably in the chair. His focus returns to your office door.

"Nothing out of the ordinary on your end, I take it?" He asks.

"Besides seeing a body builder bringing in his bunny in fear of her having a cold? Mmm, nope."

Lucifer sighs, "That's another thing I'm missing! The beautiful men and women in my club. You know, this is the longest I've gone without-"

"Lucifer!" Chloe steps out of the lab with Ella behind her, "We're ready to go!"

"Thank you Chlo Chlo for the save!" Lucifer listens to your sigh of relief, "Talk to you later darling."

"Yup." You hang up.

Ella and Dan walk up the stairs with Chloe and Lucifer behind, "Who do you keep talking to so much?" Chloe questions him.

"K9." He replies easily.

"Oh," Chloe looks a bit shocked, "What for? Is everything alright?"

"Eventually, yes." Lucifer smiles down at her and pats her shoulder, "Now, what's this case about again?"

Chloe sighs.

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You walk into the precinct the next morning. You were called in to help with the weekly K9 training since one of the trainers got a cold.

"Good morning, K9!"

"Hey, Earth!"

You look up from making your tea at the stairs to see Lucifer and Chloe walking down. You smile and wave back to them while saying good morning.

Chloe gives you a hug and whispers in your ear, "You're ok right?"

You squeeze and whisper back, "Of course."

She pulls back and smiles at you. Lucifer tells her he'll make her coffee and she nods in thanks before going to her desk.

"Let me know when the tea's done, yeah?" You smile at him.

"When did the Devil become a common British servant." He mumbles. You laugh and wink at him before retreating to your office.

You open your door and brace your mind at the pile of reports on your desk. All of them were completed assignments that you just needed to look over and sign. Here and there you'd find joking notes from your team.

You step around the desk and pull out the chair, and hear a crinkling sound. Looking down you see an envelope. You pick it up and open it carefully, then sigh.

Damn it.

"I decided to make yours as well to embrace this new role of mine." Lucifer smiles as he walks into your office holding your tea, but his smile falls when he sees the solemn look on your face.

You hold up the new Roberto letter, "He got under your nose too."

You place the letter upside down and grab a pen to start writing your notes on the back. With your head down, you didn't see Lucifer's eyes flash red.

"It seems we're going to need more eyes." You sigh and look up at him. You take your tea and nod thanks to him.

"But now we need to wait for another lead."

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A few days have passed since receiving the new letter. You told Lucifer to take this time off to, "help himself,'' while you wait for a lead to pop up on Roberto's operations.

You're dragged from your thoughts as your precinct office phone rings. You pick it up and are greeted with Miller's voice.

The ASPCA, along with a couple of your recruits who volunteered to help, think they have made a huge breakthrough. They believe they found Roberto Alejandro's breeding facility.

Which means this mission will need to be planned carefully, and incredibly dangerous.

You make the quick decision to not tell Lucifer. He isn't your partner. He's basically a civilian you roped in. You weren't going to place him in any danger.

You peek out your window, and seeing that Chloe was busy with Ella and Lucifer was nowhere to be seen you make a quick exit.

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"Alright everyone!" You say loudly in the small room that holds your entourage of officers. Everyone quiets down immediately and gives you their full attention.

"We're about to hit Roberto Alejandro's heart of operation: his breeding facility." You start, "The ASPCA and I have been going back and forth for a plan of action for the last 24 hours. Finally I got them to cave into mine." You look around the room, "Some ASPCA officers along with Miller's team will create a diversion at the front of the building, as well as Blanch's team creating a disturbance at the back. I will be sneaking in to disable any traps and placing markers for where all the dogs are. Miller and Blanch," you look to each of them, "you're responsible for dragging out all of Roberto's men and not letting any escape. Some extra ASPCA officers will be hiding on either side of the building to make sure no one escapes."

"So, that's the plan. After all that we save these poor animals." You look around the room, "Any questions?"

"Ma'am!" Blanch raises her hand, "Are you positive you don't want backup?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry ma'am. We're just worried for you." There's a slight murmur through the room in agreement with Blanch, as well as a few of the K9's whining along with Buster.

You smile at everyone, "I appreciate your concerns, but I'll be fine. Just focus on your teammates. I'll be in radio contact."

When no one else raises their hand you dismiss them and watch them all leave. Once the room is clear you exit and start to head up the stairs.

"Earth!"

You stop in the middle of the stairs and turn around to see Chloe at the bottom, "You sure you don't want me to tag along with you?"

"You sound like everyone else." You laugh and wave to her, "I'll be fine Chlo."

"Alright." Chloe nods and smiles, "Good luck. Hope you catch this bastard once and for all."

"Oh I will, eventually." You turn, walk a few more steps up, then look back to your best friend, "And hey, don't tell Lucifer ok?"

"Yeah. Sure. Of course." Chloe gives you a wide smile and waves goodbye. With your back turned and heading up the rest of the steps you couldn't see her two fingers cross each other.

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From what you can hear outside and the radio chatter in your ear, your plan is going perfectly.

While the north and south distractions went off you waited for the all clear from the east and west sides. Once heard you quickly ran to the building and up the fire escape. You decided it's best to start from top to bottom. After forcing a window open you move stealthy through the building.

So far you've disabled two cameras and one trip wire. You've also come across two apartments filled with dogs.

"West to Spy. Just saw a man go through your opening." You hear through your ear piece as you lockpick the last door on the top floor.

Shit-

"Hello dar-" You spin on your heels and give the man behind you a gut wrenching punch. When he kneeled over you move a knee cap to his face, but a hand holding a very familiar looking ring stopped the attack.

"Lucifer?!" You hiss through clenched teeth. You help him sit on the floor and lean against the wall, "What the hell?!"

"I should be the one saying that to you!" Lucifer wheezes out, still holding his gut, "You hurt me!"

"No shit Sherlock! That's what happens when you sneak up on me, and on a mission!"

"No no, you misunderstand. You hurt me, with a punch!" Lucifer looks up at you with a questioning gaze, "Just what are you, my dear?"

You stare at him, "What-" the sound of the front door slamming open underneath you made you freeze. You decide to slam open the door you've been lock picking and drag Lucifer inside with you. Thankfully this room looks to be just a basic apartment for Roberto's men.

You pull Lucifer into one of the bedrooms and stand flush against the wall. You pull out your gun in preparation for the men you hear climbing up the floors.

"What are you doing here Lucifer?!" You hiss at him while keeping your eyes and aim trained on the apartment door.

"The Detective let it slip what you were doing today. Innocently and completely by accident, of course." He adds when he sees the look on your face.

"But K9," Lucifer steps over to the other wall next to the bedroom door so you can see him in your peripheral, "Why didn't you tell me about this? I thought we were in this together now?"

The slight pain in his voice makes you take a peek at him, "I only asked you to help watch for the messenger, and that's all. You're not my partner, Lucifer." You look to the front door again, "You're just a civilian I've roped into this. I don't want you getting hurt."

"Well, too late for that darling." He gives you a small smile as he rests his hand on his stomach, then grows serious once more, "This mission is important to you and I rightly don't appreciate this dog man threatening you. Of course I'm going to help."

You look at him hard, and that's when the front door burst open. Lucifer goes flush against his wall as you fire away. Thankfully it was only two guys who couldn't aim for shit.

"Right, but before I fully help I need to test out something." He says when you stop firing and the bodies fall. He stands in front of your aim, "Pull a Detective and shoot me!"

"What?" You're astonished.

"Come on K9! Just give me a little shot!" He's smiling and opens his arms wide.

"I'm not going to shoot you!!!"

"Don't worry, I completely understand. You want to be original! Right!" He snaps his fingers, "How 'bout you stab me with that pretty knife you have hidden in your boot!"

"God, I knew you were weird but psycho too?" You push past him and out the door.

"Come on, K9!" He chases after you as you head down the stairs to the next level, "Shoot me! Stab me!"

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You and Lucifer clear the rest of the floors and are now on the last door of the main level. There were fewer traps on the lower levels and you're thankful for that since Lucifer kept distracting you with his bizarre request. You think you've disabled all the cameras and counted a total of eight rooms filled with dogs. This apartment complex has a total of twelve rooms.

You and Lucifer only encountered a few other men, which were easily disabled with either your gun or Lucifer's fists.

"I believe we got them all ma'am!" You hear Blanch call on the radio.

You pull out your own radio for the first time this mission, "Good. Any casualties?"

"Just some grazed shots on all four sides, Captain. No one fell." Miller responds.

You take in a breath of relief, "Good work everyone! I have eight apartments filled with dogs, and one that looks to be drug manufacturing. Round up the trucks and let's-"

"K9, one moment." Lucifer interrupts and you look at him, "Do you hear that?"

You raise a brow at him, but start to listen. You can softly hear dogs on your floor start to whimper, and something...else? You remove your earpiece to listen more closely.

It was beeping. A beeping that came from the last room you opened.

"Oh shit-"

Before you know it Lucifer has you pinned to the floor with you beneath him as that room explodes and debris flies out.

The dogs are barking now, on all levels, and you can hear more beeping.

"ALERT!" You scream in your radio, "There's bombs in each room, and it sounds like they're at different times! Forget the trucks and get-"

You hear another bomb go off on the floor above you, and the barking of dogs decreases drastically.

You're in complete shock. You faintly hear the radio go off and Lucifer calling your name. When another bomb goes off on the main floor Lucifer lifts you up and out of the building.

"Do not let her back in, and I'll be taking that." Lucifer hands you to Miller and he takes his radio.

Seeing Lucifer run back into bomb infested building snapped you out of it.

"LUCIFER!" You scream after him and start to run, but Miller holds you back.

"Captain! It's not safe to go in there!" Millet says as he watches one of the windows on the top level blow out.

"Oh, but it's ok that he can?" You screech.

Miller stares at you, "We can't lose you Captain."

The look you gave your second could freeze the fiery pits of Hell.

You grab his radio, "Lucifer!"

You hear some static first before his voice makes it through, "Hello K9!"

"Get. Out. Lucifer."

"I'm perfectly fine, K9!" You hear another bomb go off and more dogs barking, "Now if you'll excuse me I need to rescue as many of these slobbery beats as possible."

You grip the radio, voice wavering, "Why do you care?"

"Because you care, my dear." Then the radio goes silent.

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Thirty long, dreadful minutes pass by when you see the last bomb go off. Lucifer hasn't spoken on the radio since his last reply.

Miller doesn't stop you from running this time.

"LUCIFER!" You throw open the front door, and the sight before you stops you in your tracks.

Lucifer is standing in the middle of the floor surrounded by dogs of various size and age. A lot of them are injured, but still breathing and walking.

"Bloody dogs…" Lucifer mutters while shaking dust and fur off his suit. He looks up, "Ah, K9!" He opens his arms to gesture the dogs, "The Devil does good work, yes?"

You call out from the front door for everyone to come get the dogs and search the remainder of the building. As they enter you exit and walk away from that building of death.

"K9?" Lucifer jogs after you, and when you're far enough away you turn on him and wrap your arms around his neck.

You pull him as close as possible. Scared to speak, so Lucifer speaks for you, "I told you I'd be alright, dear." He pulls you away so you can see his person. His suit had cuts all over, but there was no hint of blood on the exposed skin.

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"So, she's able to hurt you but you don't bleed around her?" Amenadiel's voice comes through Lucifer's phone.

"Well, I suppose K9 could make me bleed, but no. I am not 'vulnerable' when near her like with the Detective." Lucifer chills by the precinct breakroom where he's able to more clearly see your office door. His brother is outside in some dark alley, watching people come in and out of the precinct.

"What is it with you and these human women being able to get to you?" Maze's annoyance comes through next. She is watching the road and surrounding area of your vet clinic.

"You guys have some weird code talk." Alice's soft voice comes next. She is inside the closed clinic sitting inside your office.

"Told you none of this is code, doll. Badass Earth is another chick that can hurt my boss."

"Uh-huh…"

Lucifer holds in a chuckle at Amenadiel's sigh, "Ah, Ms. Green?"

"Yes, Lucifer?"

"How is K9 doing? I haven't heard from her since we parted ways at that building."

"Better. Not so much in a gloom state anymore. After hearing that the number of animals you saved is greater than deaths put her spirits up."

Lucifer smiles warmly, "Lovely." His phone beeps and he pulls away to check his screen. Speak of the him, you were now calling.

"I'll be back in one moment." He says to the group call, then answers yours, "K9-"

"The messenger came here, to my home. Just now." He can hear in your voice that you are breathing hard and the stomping of bare feet on cement, "I'm chasing after him now."

"I'll be right there, love. Keep your phone on." Lucifer hangs up and goes back into his group call, "Amenadiel, in my car now. Maze & Ms. Green, the messenger appeared at K9's home. She's chasing him." Lucifer hurries out of the precinct and sees his brother enter his car.

"Got it."

"Oh no…we're leaving now."

As Lucifer enters his vehicle he turns on the phone tracking app the Detective showed him. He clicks on your contact, hands the phone to his brother, then engine roar out of the parking lot.

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This guy is quick, but you are quicker. All that time spent running through the woods wasn't a waste.

To get ahead of this guy you decide to cut a corner into the foliage. You match his pace, and push forward so you're a few feet ahead. Then, you jump out and successfully push him to the ground.

Your kneecaps skid painfully on the sidewalk as your body tries to stop. Gritting through the pain you stand and jump on top the man before he can get up.

The two of you begin to fight. Him for his freedom and you to secure him. This guy was good. Throwing multiple punches to your face so you see stars, but you maintained pressure on his knees and attack his stomach.

Just when he throws that last good punch on the back of your head and you start to black out, a car's headlights envelops you two. Another car does the same as the two in the first car rush over and pull you two apart.

"K9!"

You manage to blink away the blackness forming in your brain. You look up to see Lucifer holding onto you, concern etched on his face. Looking back to the messenger you see Maze and that guy Amenadiel holding him down. Maze places handcuffs on him.

You see Alice run to you next. She takes Lucifer's place behind you so he can stand next to the hooded man.

"It's about bloody time we caught you." He hisses at the man. He grabs his hood, "Now, who dares backstab my K9?"

He pulls the hood back and you gasp. Lucifer turns furious.

It was Miller.

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

You sit in the room behind the two way mirror. Freshly bandage from the precinct medical facility and an ice pack on your head, you watch as Agent Monroe (who you called while getting patched up), Chloe, and Dan interrogate your former second.

You and Chloe had to force Lucifer out of the room. You told him to stay by your side, and that's exactly what he's doing. He's standing behind you with his hands gripping the back of your chair.

You sigh, "I really should've seen this coming."

"Don't, K9." You feel Lucifer grip the chair tighter, "This blame is not on you."

You shrug. Miller explains how he was jealous of you. How you just show up and take the Captain spot right from him. He didn't care that you had previous experience. He cared how you were gone for years from this office. How you didn’t even continue your police career in New York.

Not matter what Lucifer says, you really should have seen this coming. You know Miller is not the only one in the K9 division that has these thoughts. You'll have to be more careful now.

Miller also talks about how he was the last one to get close to breaking down Roberto, but then Roberto sent him a letter asking to meet alone. Miller, stupidly did, and Roberto made him an offer he couldn't refuse. That's how he became a lackey.

And that's exactly what's happening to you now. The letter Miller dropped off was from Roberto asking for you to meet him at some old factory, alone, to "talk".

"So, what's the plan of action?" Dan asks as he, Monroe, and Chloe walk into the room.

Your eyes stay on Miller until you see him handcuffed and taken out, "I meet with Roberto, of course."

"Not alone." Lucifer says as a fact looking down at you.

"No." You stand up and turn to face everyone. You pat his shoulder, "Not alone."

"Alright." Monroe nods, "When is the meeting?"

"He wrote tomorrow at midnight."

"And here's the address of the factory." Chloe hands him a sticky note.

"Good." Miller nods his thanks, "Here's what I'm thinking," he looks to everyone, "A small squad. Two, maybe three on each side of the building. While Ms. Earth goes in so do we. Stay in the shadows and disable any hidden reinforcements. When we hear her signal we come out and apprehend Mr. Alejandro."

"Any questions?" Monroe asks.

"What's the signal?" Lucifer asks looking down at you.

You smile and look at him, "How 'bout 'Shoot me stab me'?"

He laughs.

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

You death grip your steering wheel.

You're not sure why you're so anxious. You tell yourself it's because you're finally going to catch this guy.

But truthfully, you're terrified that something is going to go wrong. Now there were people you cared about on this, and it was driving you mad how they could get hurt.

Music wasn't even able to calm you down.

The factory finally appears in your vision. When you get there you park next to the only other car, most likely Roberto's. After taking a quick look inside the car you head inside the building.

You're greeted with an expansive space. A space so large and empty that your footsteps echo loudly. Standing in the middle of this space was him.

"Ah, the infamous Animal Whisperer, at last." Roberto gives you an unnerving smile.

You roll your eyes and scoff at the old nickname. You haven't heard it since NY, "I see I got under your skin enough to do research on me."

"Any smart businessman would research their rivals."

"We are not rivals and you are not a businessman." You bite, "You're a criminal who should've been caught long along."

"Ah, but that is the police's fault, no?"

"Their fault for taking your bribes, which you're no doubt about to try on me. Well let me tell you pal," you point at him, "nothing you say here and now will keep me from locking your ass up."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." He acts like he's pondering, "I have thought about what I could do to make you give up. Maybe threaten your clinic with bombs, or every shelter in California. Too much work, however."

"Joy for me."

"Rightly, so. Ah, but then the perfect thing just came to me. Literally." His smile is all teeth. "I know what, or rather who, you fear most in this world Whisperer."

"I fear no one." You lie, and the bastard knows it. You fold your arms to hide the shiver.

"Tsk tsk. You know it's sinful to lie. Nevertheless, what I'm offering you is protection."

"What the hell makes you think I want or need your protection?" You snap.

He laughs, "Because I know what's about to happen, Whisper, and I am the only one who can prevent it."

"You adding fortune teller to your resume now?"

His smirk is evil, "What's your answer, Whisperer?"

Now you fake ponder, "You know what?" You pull out your pistol and aim it at his head, "I'd rather you shoot me or stab me."

"Wrong answer. Men!"

You take satisfaction in seeing the bastard's smug smile turn to a frown when, instead of his men coming out, your party shows themselves. The two of you are surrounded by Monroe's men, as well as Chloe, Dan, and-

Where's Lucifer?

"Right here, darling." As if he read your mind, the man missing was standing right behind you. He smiles, "You're cute when you jump."

"Do you want to get punched in the gut again?" You holster your gun and face him. Behind you Monroe arrests Roberto while Chloe, Dan, and the others round up his men.

Lucifer makes a pained face, "Definitely not." You laugh and that makes him smile, "So, dog boy is finally caught. Care to celebrate over at LUX? I can have Maxwell make you a wonderful fruit smoothie."

"Thanks for the offer, but I just want to relax at home right now. Tomorrow night?" You smile at him and touch his arm.

"Of course, darling." Lucifer walks you to your car and watches you until you're out of sight. He turns around and sees Monroe putting Roberto in the backseat of his car.

Lucifer smiles wickedly and his eyes flash red, "Show time."

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

Monroe had the LAPD put Roberto Alejandro in a holding cell while the paperwork was done. Roberto sat in the smallest cell and furthest cell the LAPD has.

Perfect.

"It does amaze me how I've come to love scum like you loose their freedom, when I'm usually all about freedom." Lucifer Morningstar appears before Roberto's cell door. Hands in pockets and a teeth baring grin, "Then again, this place does remind me of Home."

"What the hell do you want pin-up?" Roberto asks as Lucifer looks around the space.

Lucifer's eyes focus back on the criminal. He removes his hands from his pockets and grips the bar door, "Lucifer Morningstar, and before you roll your head like every other human, let me show you proof." Lucifer leans close to the door, "K9 is in no way sinful. However-"

Roberto screams. The Devil is out.

"I am."

Lucifer pulls open the locked iron bar door and steps inside. Roberto cowers in a corner, unable to see the wide open door of freedom due to the Devil before him.

"Please…." Roberto shakes violently. Sweat immediately pours from him, "Please don't hurt me…."

"Well, you see, I usually do, but I promised my Demon that she'd get to do the torture on you." Lucifer steps to the side and gestures to Mazikeen of the Lilum. Her grotesque half face smiles at the human as she twirls her daggers.

"But before I allow her to destroy your body, I have a question for you dog boy." Lucifer predatory walks to the human and kneels down before him.

"Who is after Earth, or who you stupidly call the 'Animal Whisperer'?"

"The...the Kidnapper."

"The who?"

"I…I don't know him personally. He, she, hell could be multiple people. It's just a name. Notorious at making people disappear."

"What does this 'Kidnapper' want with Earth?"

"N-nothing personally." Roberto shakes his head, "The Kidnapper takes jobs. People pay 'im to take people and keep the cops away. After the cops give up he takes them to the client."

"When is this stain coming for her?"

Roberto Alejandro, the first human Lucifer watches become smug in the face of the Devil.

"She's already gone."

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

"I know I said I was ready to face him, but...this is just too soon." You pace back and forth in your living room. Alice stands there watching you move, "I mean, it hasn't even been a year yet!"

"Maybe he was just messing with you, Earth." Alice tries to reassure you.

"No. No no no, Alice. He absolutely knew." Your pacing increases and now your hands were in your hair. "How could someone like him find out?! The only people who know the truth are you and Damien, and I sure as shit know neither one of you said anything."

"Earth, please calm down." Alice grabs you to stop yourself, "This isn't helping you."

"Yeah...yeah you're right." You sigh, "Ok...ok let's fortify this place."

You walk up the step to your bedroom as Alice goes to the closet next to the kitchen. Just as you're about to open your bedroom closet something catches your eye in its mirror doors.

Your plants on the balcony were all broken.

You hear Alice scream and something break. You spin around and that's when your closet doors open and arms come around you. You get the person off with the ball buster move, then spin and punch him in the face followed by a kick to the stomach. You run from the room and catch a glimpse of Alice fighting another person as two more men come from your balcony. One of the men throw a punch to your already sore head and you see stars, but manage to still take them both down. Obviously these intruders don't know about your strength.

Alice screams in pain and you look to see her fall down hard. You run to help her-

"Idiots. The boss gave us this for a reason."

An arm wraps around your head and a needle enters your neck. An all too familiar drug starts to enter your bloodstream.

"NO!" You kick and punch, but by now your body is locked by other arms surrounding you. You free your head long enough to see Alice motionless on the floor as three other men surround you.

"You're freedom is over." The voice that holds you from behind says.

The drugs take you into that pit of darkness.

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

"She still hasn't picked up?" Lucifer questions Maze as he speeds down the roads.

"For the last time no. I've been trying since we got in the car!"

"What about Alice? They live in the same complex!"

Maze becomes quiet, "Tried her too. She's not picking up either."

Lucifer yells and slams the gas pedal down.

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

The Devil and his Demon arrive at your apartment complex. Lucifer doesn't even park. Just stops the car abruptly. Him and Maze run inside and up three flights of stairs.

"K9!!!" Lucifer yells banging on your door.

No response.

Maze kicks in the door and the two enter into a wrecked apartment. Vases of plants and picture frames lay broken on the floor. Lucifer walks further in to look inside your bedroom. One closest door lay broken on the floor. Your easel next to the balcony door was on the floor, and the painting you were working on was ripped to shreds. Looking outside he sees all your plant pots shattered, and the plants themselves stepped on in a hurry entrance/escape.

"LUCIFER!" Maze yells from the living room and he rushes over.

Alice is laying on the floor, unmoving. Maze quickly kneels and presses two fingers to Alice's throat.

Maze lets out a breath she's been holding, "She's alive."

Lucifer releases air from his nostrils. He leaves her to stand on your balcony. He looks up to the night sky. He grips the handrails and tries to calm the Devil in him.

He calls Chloe.

#lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer x reader #lucifer #lucifer on netflix #fanfic #fanfiction #a devil's love #azookiex3

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crqstalite · 4 years

Text

SHADOW OF THE SITH, Ch. 10

oh god this took a whole weekend to write. and it’s reigning champ at 12.3k words, the most i’ve EVER written, especially since most of this chapter isn’t a dialogue dump. have fun my friends, for this is the finale of the shadow arc. and probably the last chapter that’ll work on tri’ama, theron, and naji for a while, because there are more characters arriving once we hit ziost!

TRI'AMA._DROMOUND_KAAS

"Get up!" The feminine voice yells loudly as she hits the roughly ground again, and something comes loose out of her mouth and she coughs hard as it scrapes the back of her throat.

Tri'ama is really beginning to hate dueling with her siblings.

Hell, she's beginning to hate fighting in general.

Wasn't like she ever had a chance.

She just barely picks herself up off the durasteel ground, blood pooling out of her mouth and spitting out a tooth as pain comparable to fire races up her arm. It's a back one, she can tell from it's shape as it falls from her mouth, coated in the iron red substance, so she's not overly concerned about her appearance to anyone after she leaves the training room. Still, it stings as she runs a tongue over it and her attention darts to the overlook, where Raegia, Scorvs and Kadasha stand. Her younger sister looks visibly terrified with a finger nervously twirling a strand of dark hair around it, while Scorvs looks indifferent with his arms crossed behind the two women. Raegia, or Rage-ia as she likes to deem her, is blazing with her fury written all over her face.

The pureblood matriarch is frustrated with her, Tri'ama can feel it through the Force. This always happened whenever she couldn't match the skillset that Typarnk had, and she often retaliated in a way that humiliated her.

Tri'ama wondered if she ever registered that she was her adopted daughter, not a trained arena brawler that could simply do whatever she wanted to whenever she ordered it. She was a child no less. Sith or not, Tri'ama wasn't meant for this.

"Typarnk isn't even pushing you hard, Tri'ama. There's a warrior buried in you, and I did not bring you here for you to continue to fail!" Lightning jumps from the woman's fingertips in the midst of her annoyance, and the two children closest to her back away her routinely, "Typarnk, push the attack. Give Tri'ama a challenge, maybe she'll push back when faced with the reality of real injury."

She wants to scream, she wants to yell. What she wants to do is force choke Raegia (she was entirely capable of force choking at this age, but it was difficult to regulate and took a lot out of her), maybe even run out of the training arena entirely. Tri'ama wants to be everywhere but here, a nine year old girl pitted against her thirteen year old brother. Curiously, she wonders what every other nine year old girl is up to today, something normal perhaps. With friends, with family, maybe down in the forum. Blazes, anything else than being beaten down over and over again by someone older, wiser and stronger than them. No one elses' guardians had to be like this, it had to just be the Amarillis' that took her in, instead of someone sane. Tri'ama throws a pleading glance to her brother, and his vermillion red eyes soften at her broken form, "Mother, she's clearly had enough. She's been hit hard, I don't know what lesson you're trying to get across but people are going to assume you're abusing her -- or worse that you've taken a child for a slave."

Ouch, that one stung a bit. Yes, she was human, compared to the pureblooded Amarillis family, but having slaves wasn't above the Amarillis legacy in the slightest. She already suffered enough at the hands of other children when she was allowed off the estate property and the bruises were not assisting her reputation in the slightest, "She's nine, not nineteen. Pale skin doesn't hide bruises well either., as I'm sure you're beginning to realize."

Tri'ama tries not to smile. At least he's standing up for her at all, he could throw her into a wall and be praised for it, but instead he tries to protect her at the risk of rebuttal from their guardian.

"Are you talking back to me, Typarnk Amarillis?" She hisses loudly, and Typarnk lowers his gaze from the balcony at the scolding, Tri'ama by extension of the yelling, "Do tell, did you become all powerful because I thought you didn't need to be trained at her age because the galaxy is all hunky-dory? Coruscant has just been sacked, and as pitiful as the Republic is, they will retaliate. I will not watch my legacy fall to a bunch of force-wielding toddlers!" She rubs her temples as Kadasha shrinks back into her brother's strong form in mild fear, and turns her attention back to the field, "Typarnk, I asked you specifically to assist me in training her. I did not say be merciful, I said prepare her for war. Am I clear?"

"Yes, mother." A grimace crosses his face as he considers his blade, lower his head as his black hair falls in his face in defeat. He's nothing more than a teenager, a young one at that. He can't stop what was already coming. Tri'ama strains to resummon her own thrown blade to her hands with the Force, and takes up a defensive stance in Shii-cho. She doesn't want to continue to fight Typarnk/ Raegia and Yusaits had been less than loving to all four of them (she can name a few times she was convinced her family hated her), but her older brother had always tried to protect her from the worst of it. Not to say she'd even be able to wound him with her current set of abilities, but if a show is what Raegia wants, Tri'ama can't continue to deliver without something giving. There just isn't enough that she knows, and not enough power to harness properly. Raegia has made it clear that just because she is human doesn't mean she will be treated any differently than the rest of the brood, and while at one point she was grateful for this acceptance in her adoptive family, she's beginning to resist what the woman is doing. At first, all she'd wanted was to belong. But now, she wishes whoever her real parents were had taken her with them instead of giving her to literal psychopaths.

Every other nine year old isn't worried about what kind of abuse would come next from their guardians -- their parents, that would be doled out by a sibling ten times stronger than you.

The hum of Typarnk's golden training blade becomes louder and louder as he makes to swing at her. Due to her continued losses against her stronger brothers, her fighting style has become uniquely defensive against them. Parry here, a block there, a barely resisted force push there. Tri'ama is notorious among the Amarillis family to be a slippery one to catch (that admittedly was rather easy to disable if someone gained on her strategy and took her out that way), and she prizes herself on that. Typarnk clearly isn't looking to actually inflict any of thedamage as Raegia requests, so she tries to regain her breath as she bolts around the training arena. No fancy saber throws, no unsolicited force choking, nothing that could seriously wound her. It was part of an agreement between brother and sister, and so far it had yet to be broken. The tooth was only the fifth transgression of hundreds of battles. She can trust him.

He's one of the few people on this blasted planet that she can even begin to trust. This was all she'd ever known, yes, but that didn't mean she had to like it. It meant she had to roll over and take it, but it didn't mean she had be completely complacent about it.

It isn't until she's on her knees again, this time with a nasty headache pounding behind her eyes that is making her see double does she begin to consider she's not cut out to be Sith. Korriban is used to weed out the weak among the prospects, and she's half afraid that she won't last a week on the red dustball when Raegia eventually sent her there for her trials. Typarnk is very clearly apologetic for the brute force he'd used after clocking her good on the back of her skull with the butt of his saber hilt, and deactivates the training sabers electricity to bend down and tip her head up to inspect for lasting and immediate injuries, "Nasty bruise you've got there, right on your nose. Your nose may be broken, but I'm sure mother would like to put 'Dasha's meager skills to use here." Tri'ama winces at the thought as he presses the pad of his thumb on her cheek, wiping away a tear that is surely biting through the dirt, blood and grime on her face, "You can do this, I know you can. Don't let her get to you, a couple years from now you'll be the only one of us to disown yourself from the family and not be scorned for it."

She wants to hug him, hell she wants to run away with him as far as she can. Kadasha was too young to understand the pain she went through, having an affinity for lightning like their father and working with him at the Sanctum most of the time, and Scorvs was much too apathetic to truly even care about what Tri'ama is going through. She wasn't sure there was anything her other older brother knew about, other than his own research into the Sith military forces. Kadasha had yet to endure what she had, but she has her own concerns about the little girl and her training. The six year old would suffer one day as she was, and Tri'ama didn't want to see her cry.

Why her guardians couldn't they find two seconds out of their day to maybe consider that their adopted daughter would respond better to less violent measures of training, years later the answer still alluded her. Praise from Baras was what propelled her to do better and better on her given assignments, Sith thrived on passion. This was simply stifling.

They simply didn't care, often was one she pondered on for ages at a time. Sith did as they pleased, no matter how others reacted.

"Mother stop!" Kadasha is screaming in a tiny voice, and turning her head painfully from Typarnk's face to the doors on the other side of the arena, she can see the two of the little girl racing after her mother's long stride as her vision only blurs further. Raegia isn't happy, and Tri'ama is nearly shrinking into herself as she realizes why she's down here. Raegia rarely came down onto the training field herself unless she had an ulterior motive and, or, had something intended for the fighters on the field, "Mother!"

Typarnk stands protectively in front of her, wanting to say something to his mother, maybe even to fight back against her punishment, but is quickly shoved away by a force blast before he can do anything. He skids to the ground with a groan, a mop of black hair covering his eyes as she quickly swivels her head back to face Raegia. Her callused hand slaps her cheek hard, Tri'ama not even expecting it initially, and on accident, maybe even on purpose her long, sharp nails dig into her skin. She can already feel the blood dribbling down and out of the large cut, and bites down on her bottom lip to keep from crying, the metallic liquid seeping into her mouth, "I don't think I have to even try to explain why you deserved that, whelp."

The high accent is disturbingly annoying to hear now, reminding Tri'ama that Raegia is high and mighty, and will always be that way, "Yes, Raegia." She whispers, sweat still dripping down her forehead in rivers.

"You are Sith, and you carry the Amarillis name. You may not be my child by birth, but you are by my choosing. Becoming Sith is not an attainable status for those that refuse to work for it, and you will not continue to disappoint me or you will die in your near future from your own mistakes, Tri'ama. Is that understood?" Raegia questions, tipping her head up to look at her directly. She groans inaudibly, and nods. These may very well be the kindest words she's said to her to date, actually recognizing her as an Amarillis, and the woman releases her less than gentle hold on her chin before turning over her shoulder to look at the balcony, "Scorvs, you good for nothing akk pup, get down here and get your sister some kolto. Kadasha, you're to return with me for your meditation this afternoon. Typarnk, make yourself useful and see whether your father needs you for anything. And you, whelp, when you've gotten yourself stable, see to beginning your records for the day. Hopefully you'll learn something this time and not successfully lay yourself out like a welcome mat tomorrow."

And with that, the imposing woman (mother somehow) is gone, her cape fluttering behind her in the wind. Out of her sight now, Tri'ama slumps against her brother's form, heading pounding and sweat dribbling down her forehead. Kadasha's gaze lingers over her, and she looks at her hands longingly. Raegia is right, the girl has been learning the necessary components to begin to force heal, but it would be nowhere near powerful enough to render the need for kolto obsolete, "Go on ahead, Dasha. Wouldn't want Raegia mad at you too." Tri'ama rasps to her younger sister, vision swimming.

Kadasha is clearly conflicted for the moment, but hugs her older sister tightly anyways before running off after their guardian and following her out of the building. True to her words, Scorvs lazily makes his way down to the training area with an assorted medical box as Typarnk helps her up. Yusaits will have words for her later, before healing whatever is making her see double of both brothers. That would be a conversation that she did not want to be having now.

The kolto numbs away the pain for the time being, but the scars never go away. The bruises are ugly, blue and purple on her cheeks for days, and the dazed feeling doesn't vacate her head until the third day afterwards. Yusaits' healing numbs her alright, but it's because of the pain of Sith healing is why she doesn't feel it. She's successfully out for three days because of it, swimming through a pool of tears and pain. It's as if she's in a coma, without the loss of complete consciousness. She can feel it in her very bones -- her very soul every time that she moves, cries erupting from her throat that's on fire every moment of the day. She can barely speak those days.

That day alone is one of the final nails in the coffin. Raegia's abuse disguised as constructive criticism for years on end is the reason she goes through with becoming Sith, if only to prove that she was wrong about her.

And prove she does.

When she returns to the Amarillis estate as the Emperor's Wrath shortly before being recruited by Arkous to deal with the Revanites, it's Typarnk on the ground before her, bleeding from multiple cuts and a bruise blooming on his arm. It is Scorvs who lays unmoving yards away from her, after being pushed away into a wall. It is Kadasha who has to always be on the defensive, parrying ever too slowly and ending up hurt. Amber eyes begging her to stop, but she continues on without mercy. It is her who stands at the end, looking down upon her siblings with a gaze akin to that of a bloodthirsty predator.

And it is Raegia who begs her to stop, when it is all too much as she watches her children continue to be steamrolled underneath her power.

The scar underneath her eye that the Amarillis matriarch dealt her all those years ago remains as an ugly reminder to why she stands for what she does within the Empire. She stands for strength, and won't fall in the face of an adversary, no matter who they are to her.

She is Darth Amarillis-Quinn. She is the Emperor's Wrath. She is no one's whelp any longer.

TRI’AMA._YAVIN_IV.

The day starts off rather normally, a little too normally if she's being honest. Not with everything looming, should it be so peaceful. The wildlife is, for once, quiet though. There is no chittering of the birds today, as she cracks open one eye and then the other. No nightmares or odd omens the night prior, and she sits up without any pain in her lower back.

Tri'ama wakes up alone.

The constant thumping of small drops on the tent's roof signals to her that it's raining, as it seems to always be on Yavin. After so long of being off Dromound Kaas, Tri'ama is beginning to readjust to the weather patterns of the Emperor's planets. It never let up before, but as they grow closer and closer to the battle against Revan, the air is charged with an electricity she can only pinpoint as that of the Emperor's influence. It only reminds her of their goal, and why the mission is so important. He'd been weakened considerably by the Hero of Tython, she can't help but be annoyed that he couldn't finish the job outright. She wouldn't be here if he had. She wouldn't have bandages wrapped around her once, twice, three times, soaked through with dry blood or a nearly broken wrist if he did.

Tri'ama changes them out skillfully, still managing to nearly crush her bad wrist before rolling it around a few times. She inhales shakily, trying to remember how Quinn had applied bandages before and attempting to copy the motions herself with unsteady hands. The application is uneven at best, but it would have to do for now. Infections didn't matter if she were dead.

Vette had retrieved her armor from the Fury the night prior, and looking upon the red, white and black armor, she runs a pale hand over the durasteel. It's nothing like the Sith guards would wear, not nearly as heavy nor as much coverage. But, it would do better than the primarily fabric armor she'd worn during the entire excursion through Rishi and their missions through the jungle planet. It isn't extremely light either, she finds as she slips it on over the undersuit she wears. Whether it will protect her from a lightsaber or well-placed bolt of lightning would have to be seen, but she places her fate and trust in it for now. Agility mattered most, for someone that could not be caught could not be realistically killed. Tightening the straps around the breast plate, she finds a sense of security in the Imperial insignia emblazoned in a small corner of the metal, and fingers over it before hooking her sabers on her belt and equipping the other pieces of her armor.

As much as she wishes she had someone beside her, maybe Vette to make sarcastic comments on her choice of armor (Vette had something against her being in full Imperial suits, so Tri'ama didn't make it a habit to wear anything that screamed Sith), or Pierce's apathy over her decision (Pierce didn't have the same eye for fashion that she and their Twi'lek companion did, but was good company), or even Jaesa to inquire over more Sith teachings while she got dressed(Jaesa didn't care for fashion in the slightest, though she and Vette were getting closer to changing her taste in clothes), she knows it was dangerous already. All three of them, four if you counted Broonmark, were ready to haul jets at the first sign of trouble, though they'd all argued against her very sound and very well-thought out contigency plan. Somehow, some way, she'd made such an impact on them over the years that none of them were willing to leave her behind if the Emperor had his way and destroyed Yavin, and that alone was terrifying. What had made them stick around so long if not only for the benefits of her being Sith? It wasn't as they weren't well off with her, no one wanted for much because of the allowance they received from her. So much so that Vette had been visibly frustrated at the idea of her leaving them to their own devices -- permanently that she made her promise to come back to them, or so help her she would be coming down guns blazing and kicking the Emperor's arse into the next millenia.

Oh how Tri'ama loved her adopted sister. Only she would threaten using her two holdout blasters to kill an ancient evil, and make light of the situation at the exact same time. Jaesa and Pierce had readily agreed at the proposition, and not even a considerable sum of money would turn them from her service. Given, they weren't in a joking mood about Revan either, and it reminded her that she did have essentially a death squad riding around with her.

I don't want them crying at my grave when I die, I want them to continue on with their lives. Get revenge if they're so inclined, really. It'd be a fun show to watch down in hell.

I'm no God.

It's becoming increasingly difficult to get much of anything done this morning, she realizes, and she's still sleepy as she steps out of her tent. Usually, she's an early riser and didn't typically struggle to get going like this. Her first thought is the conversation she'd had with Malavai the evening prior messing with her emotional state, and then the cool night she'd spent out on the surely now busy taxi pad. But instead, it's as if the Force itself doesn't want her awake, as much as she lets the cool rain splash her directly in the face. There's a softness, numbing over the sharp edges of her mind, and it makes her want to lay down on the grass and close her eyes, though physically nothing other than her sore, dry eyes scream out to her that she's tired. Last night's sleeping period had been so quick, but that couldn't have been it.

Tri'ama remains exhausted as she continues to train vigorously in her own small place near her tent. It wasn't a horrible type of exhausted, so she's able to get up and get going, but her sluggish movements are only making her grow more frustrated with the situation entirely. It isn't until she grows so angry with being unable to hit the imaginary Revan in her mind, that she gives up with a growl in her throat and a broken pair of gauntlets on the ground next to her, her force strength also effectively tearing and twisting the durasteel pieces in two, and a piece of her tent coming crashing down as the pole snapped clean in half. Another piece of armor that saw the rage she could fly into at any given moment, and she'd have to acquire a new pair if she ever returned to Vaiken spacedock. The destructive usage of the Force seems to be what sets off the numbing action of the Force and allows her to see clearly, hatred flowing back into her like a roiling river and subsequently filling her with power. Tri'ama is in control once more, and a tight-lipped grin crosses her face as she hooks both blade hilts back onto her belt. She'd question it later, but she's wound up enough as it is. It's as if a ball of string has taken hold of her, and won't let her go. The anxiety continues to build as she packs up her small camp, and there's so much to get done before it's all over. A sense of finality washes over her as she throws the pack over her back, and turns her back on the small patch and heading back towards the main base, where the coalition forces' preparations are in full swing. People are running about here and there, speeders and transports are taking off all around her. People are saying their goodbyes, people are dueling with one another.

Mission reports that would be finalized and then inserted into their Intelligence archives, she reminds herself as she sees people running around with assorted datapads. Perhaps in preparation for most of the factions departure later in the day, some things she was sure Nox and Marr would keep their delicate hands on and stash away from the Republic 's watchful eyes under the pretenses they were only keeping the Empire intact after everything the Emperor had caused since the Revanites had risen. Because she wasn't technically part of the Council (as the Wrath, she was above the Council anyways, but assisted with the military Sphere considerably, but still didn't legally hold a seat) she didn't often have an opinion on how information should be handled or shared. Not one that would be listened to as it was. It wasn't as if the Republic wasn't going to do the same with their share of the information anyway. She was sure there would always be secrets she'd never learn from the Republic's excursion here on Yavin, though Intelligence would try their hardest to do so and acquire it from their former allies.

She's uneasy about it all. There's too much to be done in-between then and now, and it seems as if it all is impossible. As if it's all one big fever dream, and that they're all going to wake up to an apoctalyptic galaxy tomorrow. Tri'ama always had her reservations fighting impossible odds like this, and with how many deaths had been reported in the past few days fighting Revanites, people she was sure that assorted soldiers knew, she now knows why.

She would go as far as to believe it's the Emperor himself trying to cloud her mind, but it's too specific for him to be doing so, and not nearly strong enough to keep her from getting anything done. It's a curious matter she'd investigate soon enough, as it still leaves her mind sharp but a certain anxiety lifted off her shoulders for that very moment. To say the least, it's at least somewhat welcome.

Tri'ama isn't the last one to arrive at the war terminal, as both Nox, Grace and Lana remain missing from current company. Master Iresso lifts her head from where she'd been focusing on the terminal, maybe sensing her arrival, blue-grey eyes peering out of her hood curiously. She's changed into some sort of Jedi robe, dark brown and armored with grey plates. It's out of place for her, as she'd been running around in simply grey pants, boots and a sleeveless top for the last few days. It's nearly a 180 from her previous days with her, she realizes as she takes her place next to Marr. Just as quickly, Naji looks back down again, and whispers quietly back to Satele. No amiable smile, just the face of a worn battlemaster hoping to get through the day.

Tri'ama wasn't the only one who had realized just how much was on the line for this mission alone. She isn't the only one realizing that this was not a normal mission, that this was the end all be all.

As the others begin to trickle in, Theron seems momentarily surprised by her choice of armor once he takes notice after a break in the conversation. Though, he throws her a friendly half-smile that's barely covered by Master Grace's less than cheery arrival, which she reciprocates quickly before picking up the plan of attack again with Lana. Among all the X's and O's and possibilities and things that could go wrong and surely would, she's not hugely sure what had spurred her on so late at night to respond to the odd quote, but she couldn't keep herself from doing so. It was as if she was moving on autopilot as she was unsticking the wet clothes from herself, laying awake until she couldn't anymore. His name kept slipping into her thoughts as she tried to sleep. The way he looked at her on the Fury. It was such a distraction, but sadly, not an unwelcome one. The yearning was nearly painful at this point, feeling phantom fingers running through her hair, a ghost of hand on the small of her back.

Subconsciously, she wonders what he thought of it all. What he actually thought of her. What he saw her as, more than just the Wrath she figures.

She hopes.

She hadn't received a response from the Republic agent when she'd woken up this morning if there had been one, and she's curious if she's said something wrong to put him off.

You're probably breaking about six different cultural rules and another fifteen of your own personal moral code. What you said is the least of your concern.

"Finally, there can be trust between us -- and not a moment too soon." Marr begins, and Tri'ama pulls her attention from that concern, "As we speak, our forces are working with the Republic to end the Revanite threat and take the temple." As if to punctuate his words, another Imperial ship takes off and flies into the distance, a slight breeze blowing everyone's loose clothing and hair this way and that. And then another, and another. There must've been thousands of soldiers flying above them now, and she's in awe so many would work so closely with those of the opposite faction.

"In spite of our differences -- and the fact we're at war -- the four of you were able to inspire a sort of cooperation I never imagined possible." Satele says, a hint of an impressed tone underneath her calm attitude, "Credit where it's due: you succeeded where Darth Marr and I failed."

"But we aren't finished yet. There is one element even our combined militaries will be unable to stop." Darth Marr undercuts this with an ominious response, and Tri'ama's heart begins beating faster before the words can reach her lips, filling in the obvious blank.

"Revan." Whyatt says in a quiet voice, barely loud enough to carry across the meeting area. For at least the third or fourth time on this trip, she wonders if he's really qualified to be here, head down at the holoterminal and hands in a tight fist, dark knuckles nearly white. He's terrified, and even Tri'ama can't deny that she feels bad for him.

He's a Jedi, missing Master or not, it's not your job to feel bad. He's a Master, so of course he'd be able to protect himself.

"Given his failure, he'll try to escape, to regroup. That cannot be allowed to happen." Darth Marr says, and if this wasn't already set in hard stone, it is now. There isn't a single friendly face in the area that isn't ready for war, and Tri'ama readjusts her respirator. Naji gently bumps against the young Jedi appearing to be entirely on accident, and moving to give Theron a datapad. It isn't very well hidden that all she wanted to do was comfort him, and by his meek presence change, it's well-received.

"Consider it taken care of." Nox answers proudly. There's a gold glow to her eyes, and her presence radiates confidence, as if they aren't walking into a predetermined death. A strange smirk falls over her face, eyes narrowing. She's battle-ready, ready to leave everything behind. Knowing the woman, she would be happy to deal the final blow to the living myth, "Revan will fall by nightfall."

That's it.

That would be all.

That was all.

That would be the last time she'd see any of these people in the same space again, and she takes in the scene. Three Jedi, an SIS agent, three Sith and herself. There's a sense of something powerful here, and what they've created over the last few weeks...Tri'ama would admit she was proud of. As much as she had her differences with the Jedi and her fellow Sith along the way, she had found that she, Nox and inadvertently, Naji had learned to rely on each other. If not without their own reservations, but it is fascinating.

As if they had not all been at each other's throats only weeks ago.

How would the war effort ever continue, with the Emperor temporarily disposed of and secrets easily being leaked between the two factions during their time here on Yavin? Surely it would be easy to gain access to the the other faction's safehouses and plans after all that had occurred. Warfare would be brutal in the coming months, and many civillians would end up losing their lives in a war they didn't sign up for. Would it be a stalemate for years, or would the Republic finally come out on top due to the loss of the Emperor? Would the Empire rise again, seeking vengeance for the loss of their God?

How would her own life continue, after meeting someone that respected her and was willing to challenge her and then losing him all over again? Knowing Quinn would always only be a holocom call away, that Pierce was only a few doors down? Knowing she would fall back on old habits anyways, sets a cold feeling within her that she can't shake. Everything is going to go back the way that she didn't want it to, the way she wanted to leave behind.

She's getting worse and worse and worse at trying to let go. Let go of this fantasy she's crafted in her head.

Tri'ama tries to catch Theron's eyes again before they leave, but he's already gone another direction than she has with the Barsen'thor, Master Grace and the Grand Master. Running a hand through her hair in frustration, she's halfway to screaming at her own indecisiveness and inability to even begin to admit her feelings. Nox yanks her along by a sleeve roughly though, and any thought of getting in contact with him before they fight Revan is replaced by annoyance for the older Sith Lord. The woman had the audacity to tow her along as if she were little more than a child, and the worse to be in little more than her typical light robes, and she wonders if she should tell her the prognosis wasn't good with her current fashion sense in mind. There may be armor underneath the black and gold fabric, but Tri'ama wasn't holding her breath that there was any. Nox was known for her beautiful outfits and even more over the top fights against Sith and Republic alike, but Revan would target her first if he knew this information.

They take a transport ship over to the Temple, a skilled Republic pilot at the helm. Tri'ama doesn't know their name, and intentionally doesn't ever mean to learn it. Leaning against the durasteel of the wall, she tries to distract herself from what was coming next. Naji sits quietly nearby, glowing dimly as she meditates, her force presence completely shut off. Not a single emotion is able to be felt from the Jedi, and considering everything going on around them, she is the eye of the storm within the whirlwind of other reactions she can dimly sense of everyone else aboard the ship. Nox rolls her eyes when she glances over to the Barsen'thor, picking dirt out from underneath her nails and fixing her pristine braid bun. Nox is never worried about any major battle ever anyways, and her subconscious scoffs at the idea of talking to her about the issue. Master Grace is with Satele and Theron in the cockpit, surely to calm him down or at least curb the worst of his anxiety. Marr is pacing nearby, seething his own hatred beneath the armor in preparation to expel it all in less than half an hour. Lana is on the ground between the seats, kneeling with a red aura about her. The Sith have been preparing for war, and here it is.

It's time to show Revan what galaxy he's threatened. Which people he will fall to.

She can't stop her racing thoughts, her racing heart. The ship creaks every once and a while, shaking in the airspace as the wind throws them about, rain thrashing in sheets against the hull. Tri'ama is trembling herself, though not enough to garner the attention of anyone else. She flexes and unflexes her hands, and the calming Force has dwindled away considerably. All of her senses are sharper, too sharp. Her anxieties are coming back in full force, and without the helping presence within her, there's not much she can do to keep it from bubbling up and out. She tries to focus on an arbitrary screw somewhere in the room, with her vision swimming as her lungs feel as if they're only getting smaller. As if at any given time, someone could shove a lightsaber right through her sternum and end it all there.

That thought only makes it worse, until she sits down on the opposite side of the bench from Nox. She can't stand now, it only feels as if the ship is getting smaller around her. The edges of her sight are darkening, her pulse loud in her ears.

"Don't think about everything that can go wrong. Think about everything that can go right." Yusaits had once told her a late evening in the spring rotation of Dromound Kaas, "That is the foundation of a strong attack, making an opponent believe you have the upper hand on them. You will just as easily crumble if you allow them to do it to you."

There's nothing that can go right here, even with the most optimistic outlook on it all. Something will have to give, and Tri'ama prays it won't be one of her people's lives that she loses in the midst of battle. Not that she was the most friendly person anyone would ever meet, but it would be a loss to the Empire should any of them lose to Revan.

The Jedi weren't exactly expendable, and if they died the Republic would have the four Sith's heads on sticks, but it would be hard for life to go on if Marr died, if Lana died, if Nox died. Two seats would be rendered empty and up for grabs from anyone who was put into the chair, opening up opportunity for a coup. Defense of the Empire and Ancient Knowledge, while small, had powers that Marr and Nox had yet to exploit. She could only imagine what would occur if someone else took the seats. Lana was only just now living on the promise that she'd get some sort of normal life back after all of this. Three children would be eternally waiting for their mother to come home to them, and have to live on knowing she died for a cause.

Tri'ama wasn't sure if she'd feel guilty for their deaths. She's conflicted, as the Empire is often about power first, not always alliances. Sometimes they fell into place by circumstance, like with Lana and Theron, sometimes they were after you had to admit your power wasn't that of another's, she bitterly remembers that's why Nox had even joined the coalition, because of a request made on her behalf. Sometimes it was sheer coincedence, like with Whyatt, or by fate, with the Barsen'thor. She would miss Nox, as frustrating as she was at the best of times, she would miss Lana. She didn't have a real opinion on Satele or Marr (and likely wouldn't ever), and it would be highly regrettable if Masters Grace and Iresso weren't around any longer to continue to defend the galaxy.

She'd be more than disraught if Revan killed Theron. He would never be safe from her wrath, no matter how far he ran. If she let him run, that was.

In the end, it was their decision to do this. To fight a power not many knew much about. To go up against fate itself, knowing (or denying) this may be their last fight. Ever. No going back, not backspace. This was it.

The ship hits something just as she finishes that thought.

Hard.

Tri'ama slides out of her seat and hits the end of the ship violently, rubbing the back of her head as Naji just nearly meets a similar fate. Lana has been surprised, evidently, and gets a Force hold on something first, Marr doing the same. The ship slows, righting itself as everyone gains their bearings again. A moment later, the door separating them from the cockpit slides open, and the Twi'lek who was at the helm is visibly displeased, lifting their goggles up onto their forehead, "Sorry for the rough landin' m'lords. Nearly would've gotten us all fried if we hadn't swerved like that."

"Nice to know the Emperor is trying to kill us before we even land to fight his precious champion." Nox groans, pulling herself up and dusting off her shoulders. Her hair has come out in strands around her bun, making her look more like the savage woman that Tri'ama knew her as, "Any opposing forces, Twi'lek?" She asks, a grimace on her face.

"Not any that I saw, m'lord. Given it's a kriffin' hell of a storm out there, but I have half a mind to to think we would've been shot down by now if there was someone out there with any rockets." They scratch the back of their head before sighing defeatedly, green eyes full of fear against their blue skin, "Two minute hike up there to the main part of the temple. Close as I could get you before I'd end up just landing on the temple itself and gettin' blasted to bits. Good luck, ground team."

"Thank you." Naji says, nodding to them as the blast door opens. The Twi'lek wasn't kidding about the storm, rain pounding down and lightning crackling in the not-so-far distance. Another lightning strike hits, closer this time, and she can see everyone awash with bright white light for just a moment. Naji moves closer to them, wrapping her arms around them hugging tightly, "Get back to base safely, Reese."

"You don't gotta tell me twice, Barsen'thor. Hope I can get back in before they shut things up, with the storm on the way and all. You and your crew always got a place at Carrick with me when you make it outta here." The Twi'lek bids the woman a hurried goodbye as the others leave the ship in various states of surprise, and Reese takes off again.

"Check your equipment, for I am sure this is the last time we will have the chance to do so before Revan wreaks havoc on us all." Marr says, his own lightsaber hilt in his hand. Tri'ama had dutifully done so enough times the night prior, almost to the point of staying up all night unassembling and then reassembling the parts of her lightsaber, but after the rough landing she was sure something was damaged. The armor had defused most of the damage she would've taken had she been in light armor, and she struggles not to hiss in sympathetic pain when she can see a deep purple bruise beginning to bloom on Nox's ghastly right arm as she checks her double saber.

Well, Nox thrived off pain. Hopefully it would serve her well now.

"If we fail on this mission, I wish for you all to know that you have been honorable allies." Satele says, reclipping her own lightsaber to her belt, "The Empire and the Republic have struggled to ally themselves for years, but today we have proven it is not impossible. This truce will not last forever, but I thank you all for your assistance while you were her."

"You needn't worry, Grand Master. We will not balk in the face of danger." Lana responds calmly in a parade rest, as if this was a normal occurrence for her, "Revan will fall."

"Glad we're all so optimistic." Theron says almost sarcastically, and if she weren't oddly observant right now, she wouldn't have caught Satele's near-perfect eye raise at her son's response. His eyes land on her, with a sad sort of determination behind them, "Barsen'thor, Wrath. Whenever you're ready."

She nods, hoping that he can figure she means more than well. The Barsen'thor is apprehensive to begin. Her hood can't hide her fear, and her presence is deafening to Tri'ama, setting in another second sense of anxiety within her. Is it this loud to everyone else? Overpowering and nearly throwing her off balance. Her nearly identical, troubled grey eyes won't meet her's, and Tri'ama decides it is no longer time for arbitrary truces.

It is time for action. She is ready to remind Revan who the Sith are and why they are among the most powerful in the galaxy.

It's harder to stalk her way through the rain and wind as if everything isn't bothering her and her heart is about to beat out her chest. At some point, the Barsen'thor catches up to her. Her hood has blown back, blonde hair blowing a whirlwind behind her. Her eyes are steeled ahead, a woman on a mission. The others would follow them in soon enough, but because Revan had already encountered them both before on Rishi, they'd lead the charge for the time being, in case they could get the drop on him or talk him out of whatever he was doing. The Jedi's idea, not hers.

Tri'ama would stab him through with a lightsaber before she even let him get close enough to talk. She did not reason with cult leaders. She did not reason with insanity.

The storm lets up rather suddenly when they arrive to the main part of the temple, and it's like walking through a curtain. It's only drizzling as the pair walk up the steps, and Tri'ama's heart nearly stops as they both pause at the top. The man is in all black, with a mask that covers his whole face. He wields a singular purple lightsaber, aiming for them both.

"It's over, Revan." She starts, struggling not to grab her own lightsaber at this point, and not throw at him as she would anyone else. This was not only the man who'd taken Theron from them, but also the one who had been tormenting her for months on end. Eating away at not only the Republic, but also her home, the Empire. Watching him fall would be her triumph, and it would be sweet to put an end to him, "You can't win."

"You've been at my heels for too long, Wrath." He answers, a gravelly voice from beyond the mask as he addresses her, "I knew the Rishi plan was a longshot, but I had to try. Had to make it legitimate. I needed to lure you both here." He pauses again, lowering his lightsaber for moment, "You were supposed to stay busy on Rishi long enough for me to finish here. But no, you couldn't do that, could you?"

"This has all been one big deception, hasn't it? You aren't even the man you claim to be." Naji finds her voice, and responds, stepping forward herself, "Don't try to deny it, you and I both know that."

"You don't know what you're talking about." He trails off, and Tri'ama reaches for her lightsaber as he turns from them, disigniting his own saber. Naji holds up a hand to pause her, and begrudgingly she drops her hand back down to her side. The Wrath isn't sure what Revan is about to pull, but the Force is at her disposal should she need it. When he does eventually face them again, he's removed his mask.

Who does he claim to be, if not Revan? If not the living body of the ghost they met in the cave, then who were they really fighting? The same scars run along his face, the same build, the same nearly soulless eyes. He's a carbon copy of the ghost, all without being see-through, and much less agreeable than the version they'd met before.

It's terrifying.

"I spent three hundred years in lock step with the Emperor's mind. I know what he's become, and what he wants." He declares, and she can only imagine the torture he went through years and years before she was born. It doesn't change that she still wants him dead, but she wonders if he's an omen to what she would become if she stayed loyal to the Emperor.

If that was the case, it only solidified her decision further. She was no Wrath of his any longer.

"The Emperor must be destroyed completely or he will return and consume every last thing! There is no cost too great. If I have to snuff out every life on this world by hand to draw the Emperor out, then so be it!"

"If you're Revan, then who did I speak to outside the temple?" Tri'ama asks, successfully ending his tirade. She's determined to get the answers before she kills him, even though Naji throws her an odd look. This will not go on as a mystery after she's gone.

"Of course, it's so obvious now. You have no idea what I am, what I've become." He responds, effectively skirting the question without even an answer, "I was a Dark Lord of the Sith. I was the Prodigal Knight. I was powerful -- but I was also weak. Not anymore."

"Now I'm pure. Unburdened. I can finally have revenge on my jailer and save the galaxy doing it!" That resonates a little too close to home, lightning crackling somewhere beyond them all and thunder clapping. At the very least, she, the coalition and Revan all have the same goal. But instead of dealing with it as they were, he started a whole cult to finish him off that backfired on him, "I have the power -- and you have nothing!"

She can hear the sounds of assorted boots behind her, and she allows herself a small smirk beneath her respirator at the noise. This was where they began their last stand, and their small fighting force has arrived.

"You are wrong, Revan." Marr declared. She can't see them just yet, but she knows that the others have arrived. Each presence is unique, but all scream in resistance, "They have powerful allies."

"Both Sith, and Jedi." Satele's softer but just as commanding voice adds.

"Allies from all corners of the galaxy." Lana audibly draws her saber and ignites it, the comforting hum of an ignited kyber crystal filling her ears. A few more are ignited behind her, and she can see the blue of Satele's, the green of Naji's and the red of Marr's beside her.

"They won't ever be alone." Confident as ever, Nox's lavender double blade is lit and pointed directly at him, "We've got you now, Revan."

What she first mistakes for thunder is the sound of a jetpack, and she lifts her head for just a moment to find a Mandalorian landing only a few feet from her. It takes her a moment to recognize the armor, and C2-D4 asks the question before she can, "Shae Vizla?"

"Heard the fight to end all fights was going down. What sorry kind of Mando would I be if I missed out?" She asks, a certain amount of humor in her voice. Though, Tri'ama isn't stupid enough to mistake it for idiocy. Unexpected, but her arrival was appreciated. It wasn't the Force, but Mandalorians packed a lot of firepower, and that was all they really needed against him.

"You were saying?" Tri'ama asks, finally pulling both sabers off her belt, the buzz of an ignited lightsaber welcome in her hands. Adrenaline is beginning to run through her veins, "This is your end, Revan."

"I don't care how many of you there are. I won't be denied my destiny! I am Revan!" He starts to cast something, and Tri'ama takes a defensive stance to try and block it. A blast knocks them all backwards, and she can just barely steel herself against the brunt of the attack, being thrown against a stone pillar. The wind is easily knocked out of her, but she gets to her feet easily enough. A quick scan of her allies finds them all in various reactions to the force blast, but they aren't too shaken from what she can see, picking themselves up and redrawing their weapons.

Surprisingly enough, she isn't the first to attack the man. An arc of lightning shoots across her path, Nox's hands outstretched with a maddening grin on her face. Revan shoves her back, an audible slam against another ruin as she crumples. She's able to get back to her feet with the help of the Barsen'thor, who'd been near her before previously. Both stand, Nox scowling with her red lipstick smeared across her face, ready whenever someone else attacks. With the break in his focus, Tri'ama leaps with a battle cry and Revan is forced to turn his attention to parry both of her blades with his own. With that, the battle is unleashed upon the ruins as she dodges lightning, blaster bolts and chunks of rock, trying to get a hit in here and there. He's good, she'll admit that. After three hundred years, he had plenty of time to cultivate an insane amount of skill. But she was wrath personified, rage in a human form.

Marr and Master Grace follow her attack, the Sith Lord and Jedi Knight leaping in after her in a haze of red and blue lightsabers in the fight. Revan dodges here and there, and they aren't exactly in sync. There are a few time she's sure she'd end up falling not to Revan, but to Master Grace's attack style instead. Not that it wasn't effective, but it was a far cry from her and Marr's Juyo form, one she recognized later as Makashi instead.

The battle wanes on for a long while, attack patterns ever-changing as cover fire rains down upon the former Sith Lord, the Barsen'thor and Satele making short work of any serious injuries anyone endured, Nox striking a few times herself after she gets bored of attempting to shock the man, the lavender blade not as easily parried as the other three force user's melee attacks. Maybe out of concern, maybe out of pure stupidity she keeps a tab on Theron, blocking the worst attacks from his position. It distracts her a few times, Revan's red blade keeping her on her feet.

They're winning, she can see as they press their attack. They will win. He's one man, they are ten highly-trained and powerful people people who are here to make sure he doesn't return again.

It isn't until he's clearly losing to the assaulting fighting force that he force chokes her nearly out of nowhere and lifts her off her feet for the time being. A strong grip on her throat and windpipe being crushed, she sputters to get a gasp of air in or out her lungs. Tri'ama struggles, vision blurring as her hands go up instinctively to claw at her throat. He focuses on her for a moment, maybe curious after throwing Grace and Nox back only moments prior. A few blaster shots ricochet harmlessly off his armor at that moment, but then it is over as soon as Marr attempts to get a hit in and she's thrown back with a powerful force throw against the outer wall nearby that nearly knocks her out entirely. Cotton and static fill her ears as she attempts to re-register her surroundings. A voice screams out her title, maybe? A shrill "Wrath!" by most likely the Barsen'thor by the tone of voice. Blasters continue to fire further away from her, lightning crackles and strikes in the distance.

And here she is, laid out by an ancient evil and curling in on her side where she'd hit the rock the hardest. Her head is pounding behind her eyes, surely from after hitting it so hard on her fall. Everything is too bright, and even through the impaired hearing, it's also too loud. Concussed, most likely, but she'd die before she let a mere concussion keep her down.She'd like to say that her life flashes before her eyes, but it doesn't. Instead, stabbing pain shoots up her side as she crawls to her feet, struggling to get her perception of the world back, and she finds that her balance is heavily distorted. Rubbing beneath her nose, she finds it comes away with blood.

The warm feeling envelops her again as she resummons the blade hilts to her hands, stalking back towards the fighting, but like before it leaves her senses sharp. The imbalance of her perception is rendered obsolete for the most part, and she's able to make the leap back to Revan with red lightsabers in hand. Tri'ama can only imagine she looks horribly mad, hair wet and all over her head, blood dripping from her nose and surely her head as well. Revan's strength was already faltering by the assault, as Lana had also given up her long-distance attack after she'd fallen. He very clearly doesn't expect her to come back, eyes widening as she slashes at his side in his moment of weakness. Lana slams him away with a well placed force shove as he falls, and he skids to a stop a few feet away. Tri'ama doesn't bother trusting that he's met death yet, and keeps her right saber ignited before marching over to him.

"In defeating me, you've let the real enemy linger on. You... you doom the galaxy!" Revan says breathlessly, pushing himself up onto his side as she aims her own lightsaber to his crumpled form.

"Had you been successful, had you brought the Emperor back, you would have made the galaxy's destruction all but a certainty." Tri'ama can barely form her words properly, breathing hard as pain shoots through her lung. Lifting her saber, she's ready to end it here and now.

"She's right, you know." A disembodied voice sends a shock of mild panic through her, but she can almost tell it isn't the Emperor. A moment later, the ghost of Revan appears before them all.

"No. Not you." His eyes widen in surprise at the new arruvals, and Tri'ama steps aside for the ghost to approach him.

"You've been blinded by your unchecked rage, your thirst for vengeance, that you could not see the truth." The ghost says, "Now that your power has subsided, I may finally confront you. I only hope you will listen."

"You're both Revan..." Naji notes curiously, approaching with the rest of the team. Easily, she's voicing one of about thirteen million questions that Tri'ama has in that very moment.

"Yes, though neither of us is truly Revan." The ghost of Revan admits, "When I died, I had come to terms. I was ready to become one with the Force. But I soon realized that was only what part of me wanted.

"I cast you out! It was the only way to go on -- to remain and finish what we started! You were holding me back!" The physical version shouts. Two versions? Two Revans? Tri'ama can't imagine how this might have come about, though disignites her lightsaber and hooking it on her belt.

"You think you're stronger this way, but you're not. Neither of us is. We're broken, we can't go on like this."

"I won't stop. Not until I conjure the Emperor. I have to face him." As if intended, or an ominous laugh sounds. Not a chuckle, but a menacing cackle. It's all around them, and yet sourcing from no where.

The Emperor.

"You wanted my return. You did not need to destroy whole fleets or turn a living world barren for that..." The Emperor says, a roar in his voice that Tri'ama would never begin to forget for as long as she lived, "You only had to point the Empire and Republic to a shared adversary, and let them do what they do naturally: make war. The scores of dead have nourished me. I am awakened. And I bring with me -- death!" Punctuating his words is a torrent of rain, lightning striking the temple in front of them. A purple light shoots into the sky, enveloping the building. Shaking erupts around them, and she falls to one knee, trying to ride out the earthquake. The wind picks up just afterwards, as she and her allies struggle to their feet.

"The Emperor was not as strong as he might have been had Revan succeeded, but he is strong enough." Satele says, as Revan turns away from them once more. An omen then, for what was coming.

They'd failed.

"No... he was supposed to face me...to..." He's struggling to even live at this point, Tri'ama can tell. As frustrated as he is, he knows that he's lost.

"You're too weak. You won't last." His ghost says, a sense of finality in his voice. Maybe she would read up on the history of Revan once she returns to the Fury, and she's rather curious how they were separated in the first place.

"I...if we unite, what I am -- won't it fade? Become diminished?"

"Wrath. Even I look in awe at your accelerated rise to power." Revan's ghost acknowledges her again, turning to face her as he ignores his physical form's questions, "You did not get where you are today through kindness or moderation. It had served you well. You make a fine example."

"I don't know if I'm ready." Revan's meek voice is too quiet to have been the same person they'd just fought off only moments ago, and the numbing power of the Force increases, numbing away the pain for just a bit longer.

"You have to be. We have to."

The next few moments are a blur that she attempts to process later. In a flash of light, the physical Revan is gone, armor falling to the floor in a heap. Only the ghost remains, "You've found your center." Naji says, voice straining to be heard.

"I have. For the first time in a long time." He nods in gratitude to the Barsen'thor, "Thank you -- for all you've done, and all you've shown me. Dark days lie ahead. The darkest days. If my error can't be undone, everyone will pay the price." Revan fades away in little more than just a flash of light blue light, "Brace for the worst..."

It's done.

It's over.

Rain pouring down, her adrenaline is sloping off. The pain is coming back in a wave. Though she has a reputation to uphold in front of everyone else, she attempts her best to follow after the rest of the team to meet Reese and leave for the staging area again. But her body betrays her in the worst kind of way, and her knees buckle beneath her, collapsing into a heap on the ground. The power of the Force can't save her from this, and even it can't numb away it all. Her vision swims before her, the Barsen'thor's robes the first thing she sees as she rolls onto her side. There's a flash of red and black, both Lana and Theron behind her. Tri'ama struggles to keep her eyes open long enough to respond to anyone, trying to push herself up with her now bad arm.

"Stars, Wrath." Naji groans softly, her own bloodied and bruised face looking down on her with her blonde hair plastered to the sides of her face. She's gently glowing, trying to do damage control on her assorted injuries. Warmth is pushed into her as Naji grimaces at the action, "You are going to have one hell of a headache in the morning."

"Given I wake in the morning." Tri'ama answers bluntly, slumping back down onto the floor in a heap. Naji nearly rolls her eyes before she's really beginning to lose her vision and perception of the world. Her eyes lift to Theron's form, blinking for a moment as his face becomes sharper. He's suffered, more scars added to the ones she had run her fingers over weeks earlier, some still bleeding. Everyone has.

They were supposed to end Revan. They were supposed to end the Emperor before he could wake again. She's flashing in and out of consciousness, as someone has picked her up bridal style to escort her back to the transport.

And then, the world goes black.

"So, I guess this is goodbye." A gruffer voice says as she wakes again. How long it's been that Tri'ama has been out, she's not sure. But as she comes to her senses, she has been taken out of the bigger pieces of her armor and left in her undersuit under a light blanket. Ships are taking off outside, and the lights are too bright for her to do much but crack open her eyes slowly. They've made it back to the staging area, and the tent flap closes back behind Lana. She can't do anything to acknowledge the other woman to let her know she's awake, so she just listens for the time being.

"I suppose so. It's been...an experience, Theron. Be well to yourself." Lana responds, standing to where he was sitting. She can feel Naji's presence somewhere, but nowhere in her immediate vincinity, which she finds odd. The woman must've left shortly before she woke up.

"Yeah. Yeah, you too Lana. Try not to get into too much trouble, all right?" The gruff voice grows a bit softer as her ears begin to unclog themselves, and she finds that it was Theron that she'd assumed Lana had been talking to. Why he'd been sitting with her, she's unsure. A warmth completely unattached to the Force fills her at the thought of Theron waiting on her, though she attempts to dismiss it.

"I'll try not to." Lana says, a smile in her voice. The Sith woman looks over to her surely broken form, a slight smile on her lips, "It's good to see you've recovered, Wrath."

"Recover may be too strong of a word." She groans, trying to push herself up against the pillows on the bed, and Theron pivots just out of sight to help her up. Not too quick to garner any suspicion, but his touch lingers just long enough to let her know it was more than just friendly, "We haven't won. But Revan is done for."

"As far as we know, yes." Lana says, coming to stand where she could see her. The woman had sustained some obvious injuries on her face, a cut that was sure to scar just above the collar of her armor, "The Empire is leaving very soon, and your crew will be landing in a few hours to collect you."

"According to the Barsen'thor, you suffered a concussion and a couple broken bones. Nothing she couldn't really handle, but we figured you'd be better off healing on your ship than passed out for a few days here." Theron fills in the blanks for her. He pinches the bridge of his nose, hazel eyes pinned on her, "You've been out for a couple hours, and she did the best to numb the worst of the pain until you could be moved."

"Oh wonderful. Surely not too much has happened since then?" Tri'ama questions her two companions. A couple hours here, anything could've happened before she woke.

"Nothing of note, no. Darth Marr would like to speak to you and Darth Nox when you return to the Fury for a minor debriefing though. Then, we all can go our separate ways." Lana answers. Her glance flickers to Theron for a moment, before the corners of her red lips curve upwards, "You've done well for yourself, Wrath. I have a few things to get done before I leave as well. If you ever need me, I'm only a holocom away."

Tri'ama nods, and Lana leaves. She'd been an honorable ally, and she dearly hopes she has the opportunity to fight alongside her again before either of them die.

Now, it is only her and Theron left. Frowning, she leans back into the pillows, trying to figure the best way to explain her feelings, explain anything before he leaves. He's got a bandage plastered to his face, and one of his implants is out, and she wants to reach out to touch him. Tri'ama doesn't want to leave him, she doesn't want him to leave.

She wants him to be hers.

But they haven't exchanged words since...nearly weeks ago.

"I-"

They both try to start at the same time, and Tri'ama bites her lip before thinking to herself again.

"I'm sorry for my behavior, Theron. It wasn't fair to you." Is the first thing out of her mouth, and there's surprise behind his eyes and in his face, "I apologize if I lead you on for so long."

"No, I...I shouldn't have tried to get involved in something that didn't involve me. I should've been more careful with you." Theron says softly, and she lifts her head to meet his gaze, "This is my fault as much as yours."

"Theron. It isn't. I should've told you beforehand I was still married. There's no excuse for me not doing so other than petty fear. I'm sorry I ruined this." There's a pause between them, and he pushes a curl of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering on her jaw. Tri'ama leans into the touch, and he leans into her to kiss her gently. They stay like that for a moment, as she tries to savor the taste of him, knowing she'd have to let go soon. Stars, if she could just steal him back to the Empire, she would.

"What a ride, huh? If you'd told me when we met all the ups and downs we'd go through together, I'd have called you crazy." He says, after he pulls away from her longing gaze. His hand is only a few inches from her's as he sits on the cot, facing her, "Maybe I called you crazy anyways. I don't remember anymore. Between all my family fun with Revan and the Grand Master, and then, well, you..."

"How is it between you and Satele? Any better?" Tri'ama asks, trying to lighten the conversation. She is genuinely curious after offering him advice back on Rishi, and wonders if either party had succeeded in growing closer to the other.

"It's...look let's talk about that some other time, yeah?" Theron asks, expression dimming. Tri'ama wonders if she should tell him there won't be another time, but holds her tongue. This, she wants it to last as long as she can force it to, "Well, look, there isn't any easy way to say this, but...I mean, we both know this would have to end eventually. The Republic exonerated me, so I'm back in the fold. And they gave me a new job, a big one."

"That's quite a vote of confidence. You deserve it." She says softly, before placing her scarred hand over his. When it's not immediately denied, she intertwines his fingers with hers. A sad smile replaces his frown.

"Okay, that's...unexpected." He says, looking down at their hands before looking back up at her, sorrow written all over his face. This is hard for him, and she's making harder, just as she'd promised she wouldn't, "You know what this means right? Soon as we rejoin the fleet and make the jump to lightspeed, that's it. No more truce. You and I, we probably won't exchange another word ever again. No more unauthorized rides on the Fury, no more sneaking away from everyone else to have a few moments to ourselves. That's it."

She pauses, unsure how to respond as she tightens her grip on his hand. As if that'll make him stay any longer. Unlike Pierce, he really is unattainable. She can't have him long-term, and she'll never see him again. All she'll have are the memories of him on the Fury, with his fingers tangled in her hair, with his body pressed up against her's. There was no more star-crossed lovers written in the cards for her, and she hates that she has to accept it.

"I don't need words, Theron." She whispers, before painfully pushing herself forward to kiss him hard. As much passion that is running through her veins, she is sure Theron Shan has as well, "I only need you."

I don't love him, she reminds herself, taking a breath before pressing her lips against his again.

But you respect him. And you admire him.

Tri'ama isn't sure how long they spend together. Every moment she lays with him is another moment that someone could walk in, looking for one or the other. That only spurs her on though, kissing every inch of exposed skin that she can get her lips on. This was all they had left, and she doesn't want to let go. As much pain that courses through her body with every action, it's all worth it to have him to herself.

You don't love him, she reminds herself as he helps her off the cot, a strong arm around her waist.

You respect him for who he is, she reminds herself while he helps her replace all the of the durasteel armor that had been taken off her. It's slow going, kisses here and there. A bruise blooms on Theron's collarbone, another matching one on her neck.

And you admire him, she almost says aloud, once he's left after yet another bruising kiss. Their last. The son of a Jedi and a Republic Commander would never be hers, and she hopes that whoever does eventually lay claim on his heart fufills the hole she leaves.

She dials her holocall to find Vette and her crew once she's gathered all that she requires to leave.

But you don't love him.

You can't love him.

But blazes if it didn't mean that she didn't want to.

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yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy · 5 years

Text

Keep Your Eyes On Me Part 3

Woo, thank you so much to @waiting4inspiration for hositing this 2k follower challenge, this has been really fun, so heads up there’s a little lemony smutty good good at the end. I didn’t go “whole hog” just in case those who are uncomfortable with it but like the story don’t have to bleach their eyes after reading it, I *tried* to be discreet. But if that’s wanted HO BOY. Part 4 man...whew lordy. Also Part 4 has ANGST.

So here is Part 1 and Part 2 and then part three is down below, enjoy.

Part 3

Once you got there however, you looked at Ivar the Boneless’ wife, Freydis and her very pregnant belly as they walked together in the market and your heart broke. Your contacts were able to see past the skin of her belly to see the baby in her womb and the readout in your contacts told you that the child would be born crippled like his father and Ivar would probably abandon the baby in the woods as was the custom which would turn his wife against him which would spell disaster to Kettegat and Bjorn would be killed when Kettegat would implode. You needed to get Bjorn out of here, but not until you could save that baby. You knew you could heal him and make him well. And if nothing else, you were going to bring him home and adopt him, that was not forbidden by The Order, many Ladies had adopted children on their missions or even Bjorn could adopt him with his future wife, as soon as you figured out who she was and introduced him to her which the sooner than happened the better because you were in danger of becoming too close to him emotionally, that neural link was much stronger than any other you had set up and it breeded a familiarity and a closeness that both thrilled you and made you nervous because you were now flirting with the ‘do not cross’ lines set out in The Code. But still, you couldn’t explain why your heart went out to the babe in Freydis’ belly but you couldn’t deny your strong feelings for it.

That night as Bjorn took you to his small and humble home and used your own tent to provide shelter for you- next to his house, the tent joining with his house so that you could walk through one into the other like it was an addition to the house although now that you were home, Bjorn felt more at home in your tent than in his own house now.

But tonight he saw that even in your horse form, you were downcast but you were hiding your thoughts from him but your distraught feelings seemed to bleed into him. He closed the tent which transformed the inside to your home away from home and you instantly transformed into yourself as you went into auto pilot and made both of you something to eat.

“What’s wrong Astrid?” Bjorn asked as he came to stand by you and helped you try to prepare the meal as you just shook your head from your swirling thoughts.

“I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.” You whispered as you slowly peeled some apples while he peeled potatoes.

“Do you have to leave me now? Now that I’m home?” He asked worriedly.

“No, not yet, your path isn’t here, it’s southeast of here.” You shook your head as you focused on the apple in your hand and slowly slicing it now that it was peeled.

“You could try telling me, I’ll do my best to understand.” He offered because this was the first time he had ever seen you so down and it bothered him greatly. LIke your frown was crushing his heart and making it feel like he couldn't breathe.

“Freydis is carrying a son.” You informed him solemnly, your words barely above a whisper.

“That’s... good.” Bjorn nodded but frowned in confusion as to why that would sadden you, were you jealous? If you were, he could fix that, immediately if need be. Surely you couldn’t go back to Odin and back to Asgard if you were carrying his child. Could you? He was afraid to ask. It had surprised him how once you both came to an understanding, how at ease you were around each other and how easy it was to be around you to the point he missed you when not by your side.

“No, it’s not good, he’s lame and a cripple like his father, but more-so, he’s...he’s deformed to what Ivar feels is a hideous degree, the baby will not live long unless I intervene, Ivar’s going to abandon the babe in the forest for it because he would rather that baby die helpless in the forest than live like he has lived. He thinks that cruelty is mercy, which to him, it is. What he doesn’t know is it will absolutely destroy Freydis and she will die getting vengeance for her son, all because Freydis has filled Ivar with a twisted saying and led him to believe that he’s a god, which he isn’t, but because he believes that, he feels the baby proves he isn’t, which is true. It’s going to be his downfall and start to destroy everything he’s built. I know you’re used to this custom but I am not. Back home in Neveah, we do not abandon those who are born different. Because they are usually born with other gifts that are very desirable and differences are celebrated rather than looked down on or feared. It is unthinkable and detestable for us to do such a thing, especially to a helpless baby.” You revealed as you shook your head as tears flooded your vision as you felt your heart break at the thought before your resolve formed within you and found a solid footing.

“We need to leave this place as soon as possible, preferably a day or two, but not more than a week after Ivar does abandon the babe because Freydis will start looking jealously at every babe she sees and if he’s discovered, or I’m discovered they’ll demand that I heal Ivar, but if I do, that will change everything. Odin will disavow me and everything I do, everything I’ve ever done, could or probably will be- undone, like pulling the yarn from a sweater you’re knitting, it’ll all unravel and I won’t have his protections because they’ll be lifted and I’ll be stripped of all my powers and abilities and everything that makes me what I am and I’ll be stranded here and I’ll never be able to go home, I’ll be put to death as a witch or whatever, they could come after you which if they do, I’ve failed my mission and best case scenario is I’m replaced, the worst case is we both die. But I can’t ignore this pull in my heart and my soul towards the baby. And part of me doesn’t care if I overstep my bounds, if it’s just to protect the baby, ..Seph...Frigga would understand. I’m turning into a hawk or a wolf or whatever I have to turn into and I’m saving that baby, I’ll take him home with me when I have to leave you, my medicine can cure him as soon as I can take him into my custody. Because what Ivar can’t see is that baby has more potential for greatness than Ivar could ever dream of but he’s blinded by his own pain and illusion of divinity to see it.” You hissed defiantly as Bjorn lifted his arm and hugged you from the side before rubbing soothing circles into your back as he listened attentively.

“So we’re taking the babe with us when we go east then.” Bjorn couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought of you being a mother thinking you were quite the picture of a mother bear protecting her cub just now. He liked it. He loved it actually. And he wasn’t helpless anymore. He could take care of you. He could build a new home for you, with him and he would do everything in his power to give you a home and a family so you wouldn’t feel homesick.

“Yes, but in order to nurse him and keep him publicly, I’ll just have to become your thrall, but it’s just for appearances. You won’t actually be my master.” You insisted as you turned and looked up at him with a determination in your eyes which made him smile. You were the epitome of a strong woman and he loved that.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Astrid.” Bjorn agreed as he kissed your forehead sweetly and hugged you tight as his grin grew just a little scheming. Oh he had a better idea than that.

Once Bjorn fell asleep you turned on the shield around his bed so that it was a sound proof barrier from you.

“This is H.L.S. Zulu Alpha Roger Alpha 0960 Coding in- Dragon.” You dialed before the screen popped up from your wrist’s device and it showed a face.

“Response positive, report 0960.” Morgan requested.

“Target is now at home, I set up and am maintaining a safe perimature, urging target to gather his crew and supplies to transport to drop off point ASAP. Requesting a detour.” You asked.

“Explain detour.” Morgan frowned in confusion.

“Ivar the Boneless’ wife, Freydis is about to have a baby boy. My scans show the baby is deformed and physically disabled and if and when Ivar follows customs, he will abandon the baby. Requesting permission to save the baby and heal and either rehouse or adopt personally.” You requested.

“One moment.” Morgan asked as she pulled up the histories and the Book of Destiny as her face betrayed no other emotion before she secured the channel so that your conversation would not be recorded or listened in on, that it would be private between just you and her.

“Zara, what’s going on? You’ve never asked for a detour before, why now?” Morgan asked which caused you to exhale in defeat.

“When I saw Freydis and my contacts x-rayed her and showed me her baby and then they ran that probabilities calculation, it was like a stab through the heart and a kick in the gut when they told me the baby would be abandoned just because it has brittle bone disease, his legs are deformed and his nose isn’t right but it is all well within the capabilities to heal. My heart broke when I read the outcome. I can’t...I can’t let that happen. It was like if the baby was mine and someone threatened to do that to my own child, I feel rage and abhorrance and I just...I fell in love with him instantly. So I’m not officially requesting a detour, I’m reporting a detour. Come hell or high water I am going to save that baby, heal him and raise him on my own if I have to and if Sephira wants to unravel me, she can and even if she wants to dump me here, I’m ok with that. He’s worth it, but even if she does unravel me, she does not get to unravel Bjorn or the baby.” You explained as your cried and wiped your tears away as you did your best to appear as determined as possible as Morgan gave you a sympathetic smile. She knew Sephira would make an exception for you . You were a High Lady of Sephira after all and were on her council for a reason. You were a stickler for the code but while The Code was in place for a reason, each Lady was free to interpret it how she felt was right for the situation and this fit in with the spirit of the code. So Morgan had no trouble at all approving this. Hell half of her own kids were products of this kind of “detour” and why she was no longer in field work because her hands were already full.

“Ok. Request granted. Welcome to motherhood, welcome to spit up, sleepless nights and poopy pants but getting paid in unconditional love, hugs and kisses.” Morgan grinned proudly since she was the mother of 4 herself as she ordered a dose of serum that would prompt lactation and really heighten your mother instincts so you could nurse said baby as well as downloaded into your journal all the baby care information she could and sent a second ‘home button’ disguised as a charm on a necklace, small enough to fit around the baby’s neck and would lock in the baby’s biometrics once it was put on.

“Anything else to report 0960?” Morgan asked officially as she opened the channel back up.

“No, thank you. End of report.” You answered as you smiled gratefully at her wiped your tears away.

“Over and out, report again when you leave Kettegat or if something goes sideways.” Morgan insisted as you suddenly felt the injection in your wrist before your breasts started to change already before you opened the back of your book to see the baby’s necklace in the process of materializing and smiled at the little silver hammer before you looked over suggested baby names. Dyre was at the top of the list. It was a boy’s name that meant- dear one. Perfect.

The next few days you spent doing little else but reading at home while Bjorn talked with the others to form a new settlement party for when you would go east including meeting with Ivar and others. Raiding parties were all about cramming as many warriors looking for loot as you could into the boats while settlement parties had to have a lot more careful thought and planning because you had to make sure you brought enough food stuffs and seeds and things to sow and harvest crops and enough people to build a new society out of basically nothing. But to help him, your journal had given him a map and pointed out three potential points for settlements as well as five potential raiding points which were relatively close by and trading ports so that Bjorn wouldn’t be able to figure it out too quickly where exactly he was going but would have a good general idea while Ivar had the map copied so that he could make future raiding plans as Ivar gave Bjorn his blessing to begin preparations.

When the night came that Ivar the boneless was going to abandon his son, Bjorn showed you where it was and left you there and walked back home as you sat as an owl in the tree and waited. When he came you flew into the tree closest to him so you could overhear his words, feeling enraged and incensed by them. You waited until he had crawled away a short distance, the baby started to cry and he paused and looked back, you still hoped that the sound of the baby crying would pull a heart string he still had, but no, he didn’t, he just left and you could do nothing but conclude that he truly was ruthless. You transformed into a wolf and howled and watched as Ivar hurried himself to get away. Most fathers should be crawling back to protect their baby rather than crawl away to save themselves you thought to yourself bitterly. He didn’t even look back to see you come over to his baby and sniff as the baby cried hysterically as you drug what the baby was put in- away, out of ear shot before you transformed back into Astrid before you got a good look at him and your heart broke. He was deformed and without your help, he would not survive and it was such that he couldn’t even latch properly, the poor thing was probably starving. But it’s a good thing you could help him.

“Shhh, it’s ok, it’s ok, mommy’s here.” You cooed as you scanned him quickly then picked up the baby and kissed him and put his beacon on which scanned him and locked in his biometrics which in turn would be the basis to bring the baby as close to perfection as humanly possible and set him on your chest and bounced and swayed to calm him as your materializer created a duplicate baby that would look like a baby but was just imitation flesh, indifferential to anyone else and once it was done, you placed the imitation baby, complete with a perfect replica of what the baby was wearing and put it back in the carrier where the baby had been laying before you started to walk away with him.

“You’re my son now, you’re no longer Baldur. You are reborn this day, as Dyre. Because you are very dear to me.” You cooed as you sprouted wings and flew away back to Bjorn.

“So this is Baldur.” Bjorn said as he peeked in your cloak to see the baby sleeping peacefully using your bosom as a pillow but even he grimaced at the deformity.

“Not any more, he’s Dyre now.” You grinned proudly as you put the sleeping babe on the same cot Bjorn had laid on when he was injured not that long ago as you unwrapped the baby and threw all that was wrapped around him in the fire since you had new baby clothes for him to wear, but first, you had to heal him. You brought up what Bjorn would have recognized as a soul forge which put a protective barrier around Dyre and levitated him and painlessly healed him and fixed his legs and everything else that was wrong with him so that he would look like any other child and have a “normal” childhood and have no lameness or disability, not even a limp. But oh, would he be handsome in addition to being intelligent and within the hour, the baby was better than new, he also woke up once he was healed and started to fuss because his hunger pains were back.

“There we go.” You breathed in relief as you got the baby a new diaper on and new clothes out of dragon silk and dragon wool on before you picked him up and cradled him before you carried him to your bed, which was now coincidentally right next to Bjorn’s as Bjorn pulled up your blankets and tucked both of you in as you nursed Dyre who was ravenous before Bjorn got into bed himself.

Once he heard that you were asleep he peeked open his eyes and saw you sleeping on your side, facing him, your whole body seeming to curl and coil around Dyre a Dyre slept blissfully in your embrace before he reached out and gently stroked your face then Dyer's face as his smile grew proud and serene.

The next morning Bjorn woke up with a sack of money on his chest, it was heavy. Surely it would be more than enough to buy you at the market as he quickly got up and got dressed and went to the market and looked for you urgently before he found you being unloaded from a ship of other thralls, you still stood out among them as others had come and caught sight of you and had hurried to get all the coins they had to buy you, since you were the most beautiful thrall in the market by a long shot. Most couldn’t remember the last time they had ever seen a woman so fair. Even as strangely dressed as you were.

“Astrid!” He called out and you snapped your head up and looked at him like he was crazy. The plan was that he was supposed to simply buy you as a thrall, not know you by name. And here you had gone through all the trouble of being in a tiny “sinking” rowboat with your baby and get caught by the thrall ship just off shore and get “captured”.

“You know him?” They asked you as you stuttered and stammered.

“Yes she knows me! She’s my wife!” He argued hotly as he came right up to you and explained how he had married you in secret almost a year ago and had come upon you in a raid and taken you as his wife but for fear you’d be taken by others while he was away on raids, he hid you away and “scolded” you for not telling them that you were his wife as the thrallers explained how they had caught you just that morning as that story seemed more plausible as you just nodded along in agreement and had to admit that that was a really good cover.

“Is this my babe?” He asked you excitedly.

“Y..Yes, he is, this is your son Dyre. Our dear one.” You answered, playing along as you showed him his ‘son’ as he took him and held him like any adoring father would and kissed his cheeks.

“You were supposed to come and get me! Why did you leave me for so long? I had to come and find you.” You demanded, trying to have a bite to your words but you failed miserably because for some reason, you couldn’t stop smiling.

“Sorry, I was on a raid down south, I only just got back, thank the Allfather you came when you did, you would have been a thrall if I hadn’t been here.” He grinned cheekily.

“Do you really know him?” They asked before you stood a little prouder.

“He is Bjorn Gudmundsson, son of…” You began as you recited his family line as Bjorn’s chest puffed out in pride and his beaming smile shamed the sun.

“I see you’re wearing the shirt I made you.” You said as you nodded to his new shirt he was wearing once you were done and it was proof that you two were indeed married and they let you go.

“Yes,” He grinned proudly as the others humfed that they wouldn’t be able to make a sale off of you as Bjorn put his arm around you possessively and kissed your temple and walked away with you and showed you around Kattegat and introduced you to everyone as his wife and introduced Dyre as his son before he brought you home.

“Sadly I had a horse but she ran away this morning.” He tried to explain so his neighbor’s would hear it before he welcomed you into your house.

Once the door was shut however Bjorn caged you behind the door and finally kissed you.

Oh no. Oh fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck. Shit. He was not supposed to like you this much. And you weren’t supposed to kiss him back. But you did. And heaven above help you, you were enjoying it.

The other arm that wasn’t holding Dyre grabbed his shirt and pulled him to you which he was all too happy to oblige and press you up against the door but careful not to press himself against Dyre while one of his hands found your face and the other found your waist and pulled you close to him in turn and it wasn’t until Dyre fussed that you broke apart for air and you finally came to your senses.

“Bjorn...I…” You tried to explain as the look in your eyes grew so pained.

“I know, you’re a Valkyrie. You won’t be with me for too much longer. I just...I needed...I wanted… you told me to keep my eyes on you, the problem is I can’t take my eyes off of you now.” Bjorn tried to explain as you looked up at him sympathetically and used your free hand to cup his cheek, smiling sadly when he still leaned into your touch.

“That was why I suggested the plan I did. Not a lot of women are keen on being a second or third wife, especially if the first is beloved, that’s why I was supposed to be a thrall, it’s going to be harder for you to explain why I left you if I’m your wife rather than your thrall.” You gently argued before you moved out from between him and the door as you looked down at Dyre lovingly as you bounced him slightly to get him to go back to sleep as you thought your options over and assessed the risks. You had to warn him.

“Bjorn, you can’t love me. It’s just a matter of time before Odin will bring me back to Asgard. We will have to be...very careful. Because I don’t want to leave, not yet, not until I know you’ll be safe and that you’re able to be on your own or we do find your future wife who will care for you, the way she should, the way you deserve anyway.” You tried to explain delicately. Wishing that was all there was to it.

“But I do love you, you are the daughter of Dragoners on Neveah and you are as fierce as any dragon, you are stronger and wiser than any other being I’ve ever known or will ever know. How could I not fall in love with you? Even if Odin abandons you, I never will. I swear on the life of our son that I will love you and care for you for the rest of my life and I will build you a home with my own two hands wherever you want it to be and I will ease your homesickness and I will do whatever I have to do to make you the happiest woman possible.” Bjorn swore as you swooned before he took Dyre out of your arms and gently kissed him before he put him down in his bassinet before he picked you up so that your legs wrapped around his waist while your arms naturally wrapped around his neck and shoulders before you leaned down to kiss him as he carried you over to your bed and laid you down and pinned you to it and kissed you passionately as he grabbed your skirts and brought them up to your hips as you furiously tried to take your own clothes off.

You both had to quiet each other from moaning too loud once you were joined.

“Ok, now I feel like I’m in Valhalla,” Bjorn growled in your ear before he bit your ear lobe which made you gasped as your legs wrapped around his waist while your nails clawed up his back deliciously as the gasp turned into a moan as he continued to move on top of you and start up an earnest rhythm as you kissed passionately and when his mouth traveled down your neck, to your chest, he got a mouthful of milk when he suckled on your breast which he wasn’t used to but it was very sweet.

“Getting a snack there my Love?” You giggled as he kept suckling at you.

“I am.” Bjorn laughed as he licked and kissed the distance from one nipple to the other.

“Making sure it’s good enough for our son?” You asked which made him grin wider.

“Yup, it’s perfect for our son.” Bjorn beamed proudly as he swallowed it down from above you before he captured your lips once more and made love to you the way he had wanted to since he met you, the way any loving and dutiful husband would please his wife and made absolutely sure you got your satisfaction before he got his.

#Vikings #vikings imagines #history vikings #vikings crossover #oc viking #viking reader insert #Keep Your Eyes On Me #Keep Your Eyes On Me Part 3 #viking lemon

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divagonzo · 5 years

Text

Knight’s side Bishop - Ch. 5 of Beloved

Ao3 // FF.net

A/N: My thanks to those who are reviewing and reblogging. ‘Tis appreciated.

In light of having ace followers, this is a T-rated version (and you can find the full one on Ao3) for those lovelies who find adult physical activities less than amazing. *wink* (Cripes I forget who I need to tag for this update) How about @barmy-owl, @headcanonsandmore, @vivithefolle, @lytefoot and I dunno who else.

Give me my demarcation line

Audrey held two cups of tea, one fresh and one tepid. The day-old scones, freshened up slightly for crème tea were her second favourite for breakfast but in this case, anything was better than nothing. She bumped the door with her hip to quietly slip into the room and froze for a moment, thinking that everything went sideways in the last ten minutes.

Hermione was laying her head under his hand, crying. "I can't lose you. I need you. We need you. You have to come back to me, to us." Hermione took his other hand – pale, yet scarred from the brains from the Department of Mysteries so many years ago – and threaded his fingers one by one through hers, using his hand to pillow her cheek on top of his blankets. "You promised me, Ron. You promised me six months and four days ago that you'd never leave me, and to always return to me. Those were part of our vows to one another, you insisted since how important they were to you to have them included. You said our vows had to include them, as your promise to me. I told you it wasn't necessary but you said it was to you, that you insisted on it, even going so far as to promise an Unbreakable vow. I knew you meant it and how serious you meant it."

Audrey took a deep breath, realizing that their entire world hadn't yet gone sideways. It was Hermione finally coping with the grief in her soul. Merlin knew she'd stuffed so much down in her soul already and this was only a small portion she kept locked away inside.

Audrey put down her parcel and paper cups of tea down, content to listen and keep watch while Healer Cattermole took her kip. She could work and focus on the notes in her satchel and not pay too much attention to Hermione lamenting her situation.

While what she was doing was blurring the ethical lines between personal and professional, she owed it to the junior healer more than the distraught witch sobbing into the starched bedclothes. She could answer to Director Sinclair later on if there was an issue. But she would cross that chasm if she came to it.

Audrey opened the file to look over Ron's medical notes. Healer cipher was easy to discern since it was based on Greek and Latin. "Healer Cattermole was right," she thought to herself. "It's a huge balance. Not long enough and he's disabled the rest of his days. Too long and he doesn't wake." Audrey made a couple of notes on the margins about complications and consequences and treatments. She added that they shouldn't try to wake him until Wednesday evening, almost 3 full days after he was brought in. From her previous patients from the war, anyone who was awoken before the 3-day mark was left permanently handicapped and two were in the Janus Thickey ward because of it. After six days and the patient wasn't going to wake at all. That list was over a hundred after the fighting ended. Those were some very dark days, the first week after Voldemort perished.

There was no way in Hell she was going to share that knowledge with anyone remotely related to Ron.

She looked up from her notes and saw Hermione asleep on the blanket, softly snoring. Let her sleep¸she she might be grieving, no one else mattered at the moment except Ron. The lad in the bed, whom Audrey had come to appreciate in the last few years for how much a foundation he was with the family, and also the steadfastness that they all somehow depended on to continue living after losing one of their own, was the focus. Yet she also knew that it was a roll of the dice when it came to whether he was going to pull through this. Even if she believed in luck and burning incense and praying to her ancestors, she wouldn't put a galleon on whether he would come through. And while she knew that it was a critically poor prognosis from all of the medical notes, if anyone could pull through this ordeal and survive the worst, it was the one in the bed, clinging to life and potions to hopefully help him heal, surrounded by passionate people who loved him immensely, to pull him out of his ordeal.

She hoped. The brain was the last frontier in the medical field. There were no guarantees he would even wake.

Audrey looked up from her notes and saw Hermione lay her head down on his hands, weeping into the blanket covering her comatose husband.

'You're home!" Hermione leaped up from the oversized chair she curled up in to read in the evening, a table for her tea next to her along with a stack of books knocked over. "I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow night!" She snuggled up next to Ron, giving an enormous hug. He immediately stiffened under her crushing hug.

"You're hurt."

"Somewhat but I've been cleared by a Healer. I'm off duty a few days and if you're game, I'd love for you to take a day off to spend it home with me."

"I will," She hugged him again, inhaling his particular scent, mixed with some healing balms, sweat, dirt, and some residual smoke. She pulled back a smidge and felt his hands caressing her face and back of her head. Long fingers threaded into her loose curls up under her evening bonnet before melting into a much-awaited kiss, renewing their vows of promises of return, of accepting however he returned, asking no questions until he was ready to share if he could. And if not, giving him anything he needed to open up to her, even if it was with a particular form of non-verbal communication that they loved sharing.

He pulled back one inch, placing a gentle kiss on her nose and forehead before capturing her lips once again.

Two tears leaked out, washing down her face and across his lips.

"I missed you too, love."

"You were gone so long, too long without you."

"I know. The bugger was moving every night and it was sod all trying to track him down. While he escaped, we also captured his partner and released a dozen muggles they had trafficked in from Morocco. Between that and some contraband potions that were highly dodgy, we broke up a major criminal ring."

"How did, I mean, um, "

"How did I get hurt?" His smile was infectious and Hermione smirked back. "Well, Jones and I were dueling Dolohov – "

"You saw him? Antonin Dolohov?" Hermione blanched.

"Yeah. The two finest duelers in the department and we couldn't take him down. Bugger nailed her but I'd tripped him right before he got his spell off, she wasn't hurt bad. Sure it's enough to make her sore and angry for the next week – "

"You mean?"

Ron laughed. "Well, when he tripped, he nailed her right on her arse. She got hit with a massive stinger and it was like getting stung by a Firecrab. I tried to apprehend him when she went down but he escaped, the bastard."

"And you're hurt because – "

"Well, he'd nailed me with a curse earlier."

Hermione gave him a dirty look. "How bad did he hurt you?"

Ron looked down at his feet. "Well, it's not a big deal, but it felt like someone knocked a bludger into my wedding tackle."

"Oh honey," Hermione hugged him again, patently avoiding the front of his trousers. "I know you're in agony."

"I was. It was almost as bad as catching your boney arsed knee in the bits."

"I'm not that bad!"

Ron smiled down at his wife. "Yeah, you are, especially at 8 am after I've been asleep for 2 hours and you shift to get out of bed after a lie-in."

"I don't mean to," She cringed and Ron laughed again.

"I know, love, but you do anyway. It's a barmy way to wake up from a good sleep." Ron smiled down at his lovely wife. "So if you're looking for some fun tonight, I'll be happy to take care of you but I dunno if my cock will be up for the task."

"Well," Hermione dropped her eyes a bit, tinkering with the belt holding up his trousers, "Maybe a hot shower and some tender loving care will change your mind?" She looked up at him and saw his eyes had grown wide and dark.

"Are you offering, love?"

She reached for his hand, her face blushing hard, pulling him towards the stairs leading to their loo.

Give me my demarcation line

Director Gawain Robards sat back in his ancient chair, the springs squeaking under his girth. "Merlin's saggy bits. Quit begging me for information. I know you're married but I'm not breaking mission protocol to tell you where he is."

"Do you really think I am going to tell anyone?"

"It's not about you. It's about rules for everyone. You probably can keep your gob shut but Smythe? Get him pissed on Firewhiskey and he'll natter all night to Hannah at the Leaky and every sodding bloke who barters in information will be rich – and my Aurors will be dead. So I'd love to let you in on everything but – "

"Rules are rules and for everyone," she lamented. "Well, these rules are crap."

"And I agree but protecting the Aurors out on a mission is paramount. Even you realize that. Do you think Jones likes going away from Aurora and not telling her? She makes you look like a piker when it comes to worrying."

"Rubbish," Hermione crossed her arms while regarded the grizzled Auror Director. Gawain Robards was considerably older than most in the Ministry, having survived both wars and somehow still trusted. "I know Professor Sinestra. She is nothing short of a walking example of a British upper lip."

"You've never gotten a firecall at 3 am from her then. She's ripped my bollocks off me wondering where Hemera was, why she was late returning."

"And yet with all of us honorable people, we still can't be afforded information to know where our partners are at." Hermione stood on the other side of the desk, appearing as a 1.6m towering ball of impotent rage. "This is bullshit, Director."

"I see Weasley's finally rubbed off on you. Good. But that's the thing about rules, Granger. They aren't in place for the honourable people. Those who are find it stifling. The rules are for the ones with little common sense, who would natter about sensitive information to any walking cock and blow investigations or give a tip to someone who is under surveillance.

"We still have a few Death Eaters in the wind, stirring up trouble and causing problems. That is who I send the best out to hunt down." Robards gave her a long, non-blinking look. "So any information that would be shared outside of me and the Aurors in question could have deadly consequences. That's why I am not telling, and why your worries are legitimate but also under mission orders, from me and Kingsley himself."

"Well it's crap."

"I'll take your opinion under advisement."

Hermione picked up her purse and satchel. "So maybe he'll return by the end of the month?"

"It's the 2nd of the Month, Granger. He's only been gone a week."

"I know. I'm asking whether I need to work long hours while he is away."

Give me my demarcation line

Their home was quiet - entirely too quiet. Harry was at work. Ginny was off at Holyhead. Ron was on day 3 of his mission. The fire crackled and her tea steamed for the fifth time. But the house was cold. She was cold. Her world was subdued, like someone turned down the color in a photograph from full color to sepia or even greyscale. Work was satisfying but it wasn't her life. Even the enormous grumpy fuzzball known as Crookshanks, asleep on the footstool by the fire enjoying the warmth, too, was the only real colour in her life. Nothing tasted good and she barely slept, missing his snoring and long arms around her when they shared sleep.

No, her life was off somewhere, on a mission she wasn't privy to, trying to track down the remaining criminals who were responsible for the coup years gone by.

This wasn't the first night she was left home alone while everyone else was out living, working, flying. And it probably wouldn't be the last one, with Ginny flying for the Harpies and Harry and Ron working with the Aurors. But it wasn't like she was going to beg him to stop working in the job he seemed naturally suited to. She shared so much pride in him finding an occupation that he seemed brilliantly suited for.

Soft footsteps drifted to her ears behind her.

"Miss Hermione, is there anything you need this evening?"

She pointed to the plate of croissants and jam on her plate, her dinner when everything tasted like chalk and mouldy cheese, much less sleep. "I wish Ron were home," She said wistfully. "But I don't think you can make him appear right now."

"Well, Miss Hermione, I could fetch Master Ron for you." Hope erupted in her chest. She wouldn't need him long – only 5 minutes to snog him breathless and just know down to her bones that he was alive, healthy, and whole. Maybe she could sleep tonight if she just knew he was fine instead of worrying herself sick. "Kreacher can do that for you." The diminutive elf looked upon her with his watery green eyes, droopy ears, the well-tailored trousers held in place with suspenders and his cravat, emblazoned with the letter B on it and waited.

Ever since he chose to work for Harry for wages and choose his own livery, he had perked up, seemed to grow confident and even taking to being almost polite to her. Almost. She did catch him muttering under his breath on occasion, usually when she was being short-tempered. She took the time to make amends to him later in some way that he appreciated. The last one was finding some old photographs of Regulus Black in the archives. That photo was on the wall of his small room, the one he chose off the kitchen.

Would his appearance compromise mission safety if he showed up at the wrong moment? Would Ron get hurt if he showed up? Face an inquiry? Made redundant? Decisions tossed back and forth in her mind, one as important as the other. A decision erupted in her mind, one that would suffice.

"Kreacher, would you do the following? Would you ask Ron? If he says he is busy, then no. I miss him terribly but not to risk their mission. I know you can apparate silently and that would help him and you."

Kreacher departed in a lightning crack, leaving Hermione alone in the parlour, curled up in the chair by the fire, Crookshanks asleep on the footstool in front of the fire, staying warm, while she waited as each second ticked by on the clock in the foyer.

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock.

She turned to stare at the ancient grandfather clock at the other end of the parlour. It had been in the attic, banished decades ago, according to Kreacher. Harry thought it would be useful once Mr. Weasley fixed it to show their own family – the five of them under the roof, along with Luna and Neville. That present had been a gift from Ron – Kreacher's own arm on the clock, either at home or Hogwarts, and one minuscule location known as the Hog's Head – since Aberforth had taken a liking to the wizened elf and kept half-pint mugs on hand for him – and a few dusty bottles of elf made wine.

Tonight was one of the many nights where she wished that bloody clock had been relegated to the rubbish pile or left in the attic.

A sharp crack exploded across the parlour, frightening Hermione up from her chair. Kreacher, still looking rather dapper, stood before her, his ears hanging down along with his proboscis nose. "Master Ron says he can't leave, that it's too important. And in his words, Kreacher blushed, or what passed for blushing for him, 'Don't believe I don't want to come home and give it to you. I do.' Those are the words he used, Mistress Hermione."

Hermione swallowed down the salty tears that flooded her nose and throat. "Thank you for asking, Kreacher. I appreciate you taking the time to ask. I will see to the dishes if you wish to retire for the night."

Kreacher stood up a little taller – which was not quite 1 meter in height – and straightened his suspenders holding up his dapper trousers. "Master Harry has paid my wages this week and Aberforth has asked that I come to visit him this evening." He made a noise which she had learned passed for a laugh. "But if you need me," he croaked.

"Yes, I will call for you straightaway. Have a good night, Kreacher. Enjoy your half-pint."

"Good evening," He croaked one last time before toddling away to the kitchen doorway, another lightning crack telling her that she was now utterly alone in the house, not including Crookshanks.

Hermione looked at the footstool and saw it empty, too. Crookshanks had left when she wasn't looking, either plodding down to the kitchen to eat or to chase the vermin that infested the second basement. No matter how hard she tried, various bugs and rodents made their way into that damp space. That was the only downside to having a shared home in central London.

She looked at the tome in her hands, something dry and related to work that she couldn't be arsed for the moment, not when she was completely alone in the enormous home the five of them shared. She couldn't even ring up her parents, not after the last exploding row she had with her mum a fortnight previous.

She looked at the small table and saw her forlorn croissants and jam. She cringed, the thought of that meal making her gag. Hermione pulled her wand from her curls and pointed it towards the other table, a silently accio towards the basket containing the takeaway locations in their neighborhood. Like most nights when she was home alone with no one else to share a meal with, she put it back down, sighing to herself. She replaced the book in her work satchel, locked down the fireplace for the night and slowly walked up the stairs to the second landing, going to bed at half seven without her dinner or her lover.

Give me my demarcation line

Hermione raised her head with a start. "Audrey?"

The older witch stopped packing her satchel. "I was about to leave to do my rounds. Do you need anything?"

"No, I don't think so. Something woke me, I think. Did I doze off?"

"I do think you took a kip. You were pretty quiet for about half an hour." She glanced at Healer Cattermole and saw her put her nose into her parchment – a Healer sign that they weren't paying attention. "You were crying earlier and I think you cried yourself to sleep."

"Well, um, I might have," Hermione lifted her face up and rubbed it, moving the bonnet around on her hair and showing a few escaped curls. "I am exhausted."

"Well, if you need me, I'll be around the hospital. I have rounds to do and patients to check on."

Hermione gave her a pointed look. "I need my husband awake, healed and completely healthy."

"We're working on it." Audrey collected her satchel along with her purse and went over to Hermione. She gave a hug and whispered words of encouragement and she left, leaving Hermione with Healer Cattermole.

Mary stole a glance at the couple on the other side of the room. Maybe Mrs. Granger-Weasley would settle in rather than acting as an impatient owl. She put her head back down to continue writing.

Quill scratching on parchment was the only noise in the room. Healer Cattermole was writing up what ideas she had for saving the patient and how much risk it was for potential infections, for recovery and therapy to help him if he woke, and how long that might take. The senior healers were glad to have some ideas from the Muggles and how they could help their patients they couldn't heal straightaway. Anything to help the patient without harming him was all on the table. But now it was still a wait and see.

A harsh hiss broke the silence of the room. Healer Cattermole looked up and saw Hermione collecting her small purse. "I, uh, um, I need to run home and change clothes. I'll be back shortly."

The young healer nodded. "I'm on duty until 8 pm." She turned her head back to the parchment, continuing to scribe additional ideas.

"Thanks," Hermione bustled out the door.

Time ticked by and Healer Cattermole continued to work, listening to the even breathing of Mr. Weasley in the bedclothes.

Sometime later, she looked up to see Harry return, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. "How is he?" Harry asked softly, not to disturb Mrs. Weasley who was tending her son in the bed by adjusting his blankets, rubbing his feet and hands with what appeared to be some sort of lotion and moving his legs in what appeared to be a bicycle movement. Arthur unpacked her large tote, bringing out more potions and lotions and a pillow for Mrs. Weasley. He placed it gently in her chair before returning to her side, looking down at his son and surreptitiously wiping his face occasionally.

"He's not moved since he was placed in the bed, according to my notes," Healer Cattermole looked past Harry and grimaced, "Well, he's not moved on his own since he was put in the bed."

"Notes?"

"Yes, sir," she looked down some to avoid his harsh stare. "Healer Reeves stayed with him while I caught a kip. She said she wanted me alert today so I did as she instructed. When I returned, she left. Mrs. Weasley-Granger left a little after she did, saying she needed to run home and change and would return." She looked back up at him and he tried to smile and failed, instead looking vexed. Worry creased her face in discomfort. "I am a junior healer and I have to follow any Healer's instructions, especially when they will offer an hour's rest."

Harry finally was able to smile. "I know Healer Reeves pretty well, too, professionally. We have to do what she tells us, right?"

The junior healer sighed in relief. "Yes sir, we do."

"It's odd that we didn't pass Hermione or Audrey in the lift or downstairs," Arthur spoke up and Molly silently shrugged. "No matter,"

Harry took a seat in the plastic chair on the other side of the room, facing the door. Some habits were hard to break and having his back to the door was the worst one. But then he didn't expect the worst to happen since it already had, putting Ron in the hospital bed teetering between life and death.

"I think I'm going to go home and change too, and maybe check-in at the office before returning."

"I'll stay with our sons," Molly looked across the room at Harry, too. "I won't leave them alone today."

He felt a rush of affection for Mrs. Weasley for her comment. It still boggled him from time to time how his adoptive family actually liked him and wanted him around.

Harry went to the side table and reviewed all of the potions there, along with the script on each one signifying what he was taking. Nerve regeneration potions, blood replenishing potions, an ampule of clear liquid sealed inside a glass vial, strong pain potions, and two bottles of skele-gro. Harry put the paper down, unread, and really looked at Ron under all of the bandages and protective padding.

"Well, I'll, um, I'll be back at lunch, then, and then after dinner. I can stay the night if you want to go home and sleep." Arthur came over to hug Molly from behind, whispering soft words into her ears and only for her ears. Harry averted his eyes, seeing the ones whom he cherished in a moment of intense intimacy, almost like walking in on them. He didn't look towards his surrogate parents, not while they were having a somewhat private conversation.

The door crashed open and Harry had his wand pointed at the door before Arthur could lift his head. George stood there looking haggard and disheveled. "I came as soon as I heard," he told them. He bent over, huffing and puffing, holding his side like he had a stitch.

He looked at Harry and watched him keep his wand trained on George. "Tell me something that only I'd know."

"Harry!"

"Either tell me or you're going to have a bad headache while in a holding cell at the Ministry."

"You're the reason why the git got new robes his sixth year."

Harry dropped his wand instantly, feeling mortified at following protocol in a hospital room.

Molly toddled over to hug her son fiercely before she let go, letting her husband get a hug in too.

"How bad – " the words got lodged in his throat, looking gaunt. Dark shadows hung under his brown eyes and his clothes looked as if he slept in them. He probably had yet again.

"He's pretty bad. It's stable but it's a wait and see."

"Fuck," he said half-heartedly. He looked up and saw Harry standing on the other side of the bed, looking forlorn. "On duty?"

"Unfortunately."

"Did you do it?"

"George Weasley!"

"No, it's fair he asks." Harry shuffled his feet. "And no, I didn't do it but it still happened while I was with him."

"You're always there when something happens. Why?"

"Hell if I know, George."

The two men shared a long, hard look before George turned away. "So what is wrong with him?"

"Head injury," Molly spoke up first, dabbing her eyes yet again. "They did some barbaric muggle surgery on him to save him but he's like this. They said they will try waking him later today. But if he doesn't wake, it's a race. If he doesn't wake shortly, he – " her voice broke into a gut-wrenching sob.

"They said if they can't wake him soon enough, he might never recover, or wake. But if they wake him too soon, he could be disabled permanently."

"Fuck," George spoke under his breath. "Why him?" George turned on Harry, a few inches shorter but with ingrained anger at the world. "Why did he get hurt? Everyone aims for you. Why him?"

"A walking knob ended excuse of MLS officer cocked up. So blame me if it helps you feel better, but I didn't do it."

George acknowledged Harry's explanation before he turned back towards his brother in the bed. "He looks like a half-wrapped mummy." He huffed. "Brilliant," he said to no one in particular, "the first time in three years I get a weekend off because this prat was gonna cover for me – "

"George!"

" – and he goes and gets himself hurt. I wonder who I made crackers in the universe to make this happen to me again."

"This isn't about you, George. It happened and – "

"I know, Mum," George yelled before muttering sorry under his breath. "I'm complaining and this sucks and I can't cope. Cut me some slack huh?" George turned back to Harry. "You know, I don't want him looking like Moody before he's 25. Maybe you can suggest he retire or get a desk job, huh? Not like I want the tosser sharing space with Fred before I do."

"George Weasley!" Arthur's face was bright red. "That's enough." A sob erupted. "Quit upsetting your Mum."

"Fine," He made his way to the door. "I'll be back later." He stormed out, leaving the door open to the hallway.

"Arthur, why - " Molly's words echoed out from her husband's chest.

"Do you remember how you were after Gideon and Fabian were murdered?"

"Yeah, I do. But after Ginny, I got over it."

"And it took how long?"

"Few years," she muttered. "But – "

"It's only been a few years. This is hard for him. We should give him some distance on this."

"Last time we did Percy had to take him somewhere to dry out."

"Well he has more help now," Arthur saw Harry standing quietly, distracted by the side table of potion vials. "Harry, you know he doesn't blame you for what happened."

"I know but it still bothers me," he shrugged. "Anyway, I'll manage better once Ginny arrives."

"Did you owl her?"

"Well, no. I figured Hermione did."

"Well, we didn't owl her. We did let Fleur know but she's home with the kids since Bill is in Madagascar for the Bank."

"Bugger," Harry grimaced. "I better owl her or firecall the Harpies office to let her know. Last time I checked, they were on a tour of the Far East right now. I dunno if she will be able to take emergency leave. You think we should tell Charlie?"

"I think he needs to know, even if he can't come home because of the expense."

"You stay," Arthur came over to give Harry a much-needed hug. Arthur pulled back, looking slightly down at Harry through his glasses. "I'll see to contacting the others, including Bill. I'd be more comfortable if you were here keeping Molly company while I was away." Arthur quietly left the two behind, to see informing the others.

Harry looked over and saw Molly pull out a skein of wool and set her knitting needles to work. She was immediately engrossed in what she was doing – reading the Daily Prophet and glancing every so often at her work. He'd been in this world 12 years now and seeing how she could multitask using magic always put a smile on his face and warm his heart.

Harry pulled a rigid plastic chair to the side of Ron's bed and sat down, trying to find a comfortable spot before giving it up as a bad job. He leaned in while using his wand to silently spell the area around Ron's bed into a cone of silence, keeping Molly from knowing what he wanted to talk about.

Some habits never die.

"Ron, I should have listened to you. I should have put a stop to the entire mission once I realized Trowbridge was brought on. Damn," He ran his hands through his hair before smudging his glasses, making the person before him even blurrier. "Why didn't I listen to you? Why did I just let things slide again." Harry ran his hands through his hair and fought down to anguish in his heart.

"I fucked up real good this time."

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peachximagines · 5 years

Text

Princess Five (One)

warning: underage drinking

word count: 1.9k

pairing: OCxBilly Hargrove, platonic: StevexOC

a/n: as a poc, I am not excusing Billy’s racist undertones/his bad behavior. Also instead of El at this point, it’s the OC. This takes place after the events of Season 2.

I lift the apple in front of my eyes, glimpsing over the curves and the way the lights hit it so gently. Hopper smiles at me, “Don’t play with your food kid. You should be getting some nutrients in before Steve takes you out.” I shrug, letting the apple bounce onto the table in front of me. Hopper sits in front of me, leveling us. “You don’t have to go if you really don’t want to. I’ll tell him I changed my mind.” I shake my head, dismissing the idea. “Kids aren’t as nice as the kids you know are. Will, Mike, Lucas, Dustin, and Max are different. You understand that right?” I nod. “If anyone gives you grief, DON’T use your powers. Just walk away.” I huff in disdain. He shoves my shoulder, standing up. I shouldn’t let anyone walk over me. I deserve the respect that everyone else gets. I can’t use my words so I’ll use my actions instead. “Eat the apple or you’re not going Fee.” I frown, biting into the tart fruit. “You’re going to have to introduce yourself as Fee, I don’t think Five is a socially acceptable name.” I roll my eyes. “I saw that, brat.” I smile, swallowing another chunk of the fruit down. “My name is Five. Badass name.” I scribe on a piece of discarded mail. I slide it over to Hopper. He assesses the words. “Introduce yourself like that if you really want to, but be wary.” I click my tongue, giving him the thumbs up. A honk outside shifts the attention from the half-eaten apple to my only age-appropriate friend. “Okay kid, no drinking, no kissing, home before midnight.” Hopper kisses my forehead, following me to the front door. I tap his hand three times. I love you. “Love you more.” I scrunch up my nose. One tap. Impossible. Hopper waves to Steve. Steve waves enthusiastically at Hopper as I slide into the seat next to him. “Home at a reasonable hour. I own guns, son.” “Of course, Hop. She’s in good hands with me.” I shoot Hopper the thumbs up. He watches us pull out from the driveway and Steve peels off into the night. Rick Astley sings gently in the background, Steve humming along. “I know this is your first party. I promise I won’t leave you okay?” There was a certainty in his voice I knew I could trust. I nod. “If anyone gives you a hard time, let me know and I’m there.” I look away from his soft face. I know he couldn’t win a fight. Someone scary already destroyed his face once. The memory of the bruises and the cuts sends shivers down my spine. I vow to hurt whoever hurt my friend, I will never let it happen again. I open his glove compartment searching for a pen. I find a stubby pencil instead. I pull my notepad out of my purse. Steve watches out of the corner of his eye as I scribble words on the paper. I shove his arm to get his attention and he briefly takes his eyes off the road. “‘Mute not disabled’. Well shit, Fee I know that. I just worry okay.” He faces forward, focusing on the road. “People can be mean alright?” I watch as the scenery outside changes from only woods to an expansion of rock. The quarry. I scribble more words. I wait until Steve parks a few ways from the rest of the cars before shoving the pad into his hand. “ ‘I know mean. Papa.’” Steve sighs, turning fully to me. “I know you know mean. This is just different alright? Please just take my word for it.” Steve smiles at me, his voice gentle and kind. I nod, getting out of the car. The chilly air nips at my nose. The excitement and screech of loud teens almost drown out the crackle of the bonfire. The fire towers over everything, casting a warm glow over the surrounding area. The burnt embers release a smell making me nostalgic. Hopper’s cabin. There’s only one place the fire fails to illuminate. The pit of the quarry looks almost bottomless and I feel suddenly overwhelmed. I turn to Steve, his eyes already on me. “Three taps to my left hand and we’re out of here alright? We’ll go to a diner and drive around until your curfew. Three taps.” I nod. As we walk into the crowd of teens, I feel out of place. They are all kids my age but yet they know so little. They don’t know the expansive dimensions or the monsters that could lurk in bottomless pits that they like to party around. Steve grabs two glass bottles from a cooler, placing one in my hand. “It’s beer, tastes like piss but we act like it tastes good.” I open the bottles without touching and Steve sputters. “Fee! We’re in public.” he hisses. The realization dawns on me. The ignorant teens wouldn’t even begin to grasp the concept of telekinesis. I shrug, drinking the cold piss, as Steve had called it. I scrunch my nose up. “King Steve! Your new princess can’t handle her liquor. Not like the old one at least.” A gruff voice calls. A tan boy steps into my line of sight and I feel all air leave me. His hair was blond and long, longer than Steve’s. He smirks around the bottle pressed to his lips. “Want some, princess? It’s what these cow fuckers here call ‘fuel’.” Steve steps between me and the offered bottle. “She’s fine, Hargrove.” Hargrove presses two fingers into Steve’s chest, pushing him out the way. The bottle’s still outstretched. I allow my eyes to travel up from the base of the bottle to the tan strong arms holding it. The strong arms connected to a strong chest that was barely covered. “Take a sip, sweet girl.” I grip the bottle and take a huge swig. Hargrove whoops loudly as I swallow it down. The burn in my mouth is almost unbearable. He laughs, pulling me from the rock and next to him. “Shit, princess!” I wish I could scrub the burning feeling from my mouth. Hargrove throws an arm over my shoulder, pressing me into his side. He smells like the cigarettes Hopper smokes and a little bit of the liquor I just drank. “Alright Billy, that’s enough,” Steve growls, pulling me back to him. I scramble back to the rock, returning to my original position. “Aw Stevie, never any fun. I saw your old princess cuddled up with Byers by the fire, maybe you should say hi.” Billy says. It sounds like a nice suggestion but the intent doesn’t seem too nice. This mean is just different, alright? This was the new mean. Nice words but mean definitions. I look over to the fire and saw them. Nancy was tucked under Jonathan’s arm. One arm with Nancy, one arm with his camera. I peak over at Steve and I can tell he can see it too. “I need another beer,” he grumbles. “C’mon, Fee.” “I’ll keep her company, you don’t need to have a leash on her.” Steve rolls his eye, setting his hands on his hips. “I’m grabbing a beer and saying hi. Will you be fine over here?” I nod. “She doesn’t talk dipshit so have fun with that.” I wish he hadn’t said that. The intent wasn’t harsh but the words were. Mean was different than Papa Mean and I wish I didn’t have to learn it. “You don’t talk?” I shrug. I pull my knees to my chest, allowing myself to hide just a little. “That’s cool. I talk enough for the both of us.” I look over my knees. Billy got himself comfortable on the rock. “I’m Billy Hargrove. A sip?” I sip from the outstretched bottle, keeping eye contact with Billy. The look in his eye put a fire in my belly that I didn’t know I could feel. Maybe it was the alcohol. Just a hi from Steve turned into a full conversation with Nancy and Jonathan. Billy stayed, keeping me company and full of fire. The bottle was empty by the time Steve hustled over. “Shit, Five. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to talk for so long.” I giggle, shrugging my shoulders. I lean my head fully against Billy’s shoulder. He had wrapped his jacket around the both of us when he noticed I began to shiver. “Are you drunk?” Steve looks at the empty bottle. “You’ve got to be shitting me!” he exclaimed. All the happiness in me dissipated. I sat up straighter, letting the jacket fall from my shoulders. “Come down, it’s a fucking party.” Billy tries to defend me, sitting up haphazardly. “C’mon princess, it’s chilly out here.” I shook my head, wrapping my arms tighter around myself. He gazes at me and then at the angry Steve. “And you, Mr. Mature, don’t yell at her like that again alright?” Billy slides off the rock, allowing his legs to have a much-needed stretch. He shimmies out of his jacket, offering it out to me. Steve pushes himself between us. “Keep the fucking jacket. Five, let’s go. Now.” I slide off the rock, bowing my head. “Who the shit do you think you are? I’ll knock that crown off your head so quick your head will spin, King Steve.” Billy sneers, clenching his leather jacket so tight his knuckles show strain. “Take your jacket, and fuck off.” Steve plants his feet in the dirt, squaring himself off like he was ready for a fight. I will never let it happen again. I clench my jaw and focus on anything in the vicinity that could avert attention. I look at Billy, his eyes aflame. I step forward, pressing my hand on his bare chest. I stare at him, willing him to calm down. The flame flickers before dying out. Calm. I urge. I keep my eyes on him. I rub the skin beneath my hand gently with my thumb. Calm. I offer Billy an awkward smile. “Put this on, Fee,” he says gently, offering his jacket. I take it from him. He smiles. His eyes flicker to Steve real quick before he turns away, walking back to his group. “Car, now.” I rush to keep up with Steve as he takes the largest steps to get to the car. “What were you fucking thinking? You got drunk, you draped yourself like some harmless over Hargrove and you took the jacket?” I squish into the seats, willing the angry to go away. “Don’t hide now. Now you have to fucking deal with Hopper.” I squeeze my eyes shut. Hopper won’t let me leave again. I’ll have to go back to the cabin. I tap three times. “I’m glad you’re ready to go because that’s exactly where I’m dropping you.” Steve cranks up the music Rick Astley filling the car. I wish I could feel guilt for what I did. Maybe feel bad for drinking with someone Steve obviously doesn’t like. But I couldn’t. Nothing in me told me what I did was wrong. I had fun. I was happy. I deserve to be happy.

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove x oc #stranger things imagine #steve harrington

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scarlettlawyer · 5 years

Text

Part 13 of my reaction/commentary to the Phantoms & Mirages Saga, the fanfic series by @renegadewangs

(Chasing Phantoms): Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

(Haunted Specters): Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

(Vanquishing Mirages): Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Vanquishing Mirages / Lifting Spirits: Part 10

Lifting Spirits: Part 11 Part 12

OH BOY we actually made it. Are we actually here? At the Lifting Spirits ending?! :O

It only took thirteen posts and thousands upon thousands upon thousands of words and a couple of AUs and fun off-topic detours but WE DID IT. But it was the journey that counts, not necessarily the destination, no? XD

It was only the three of them- Simon, Athena and Bobby himself who were visiting Lex. There were very few other people who would bother to pay their respects, Bobby supposed.

[…]

The ambassador was probably the only other person who’d visit the grave with honest intent.

I don’t… necessarily think that’s true, to be honest.

I have some thoughts about this that I won’t go into, but, there were many people deeply upset by the fake verdict in-universe.

Lifting Spirits, Chapter 18

ascending.

I can’t it’s so much, the sweetness the…

”His identity was mine up until two months ago and it’ll continue to be mine whenever my uncle deems it time to take me out for some exercise.”

PALAENO OUT HERE GONNA TAKE LEX FOR WALKS LIKE A HECKIN’ DOG LOL? I love it.

While this was a suitable alternative to execution, in a way it felt like they were cheating.

Okay I really liked this line on first read honestly because. Yes.

Like, this ties in a huge amount to what I said in the last post. It… DID kind of feel like cheating to me back then? In the sense that this is such a wonderful, happy ending for everyone to the extent that it almost felt like it shouldn’t be possible given the past and the characters involved. It felt like a bit of a meta line? And I really don’t know if it was intended as such, that’s just how I interpreted/read it!

And these are the EXACT lines wherein, tied with the open acknowledgement of the inability to please everyone discussed in the last post, seriously made me embrace and adore this ending one thousand percent.

The “cheating” comment seriously resonated with me and just, by alluding to it feeling like cheating… to just embrace it… The open acknowledgement goes such a huge way. There doesn’t need to be any internal sense of dissonance whatsoever if the story is right there with you in terms of self-awareness.

By saying “not everyone can be satisfied with the ending” in and of itself allows me to be fully satisfied, and to no longer have to worry about the fact that it can’t please everyone, since the story is already aware of this and having pointed out that pleasing everyone isn’t possible anyway.

Mind you, my perspective now is somewhat more akin to hissing “no it’s not cheating back off this beautiful ending is 100% earned and righteous shhhhh”.

I… am really rendered speechless with some of the wonderfulness of this ending… And I’d actually... forgotten a lot of wonderful details too? Because I’d only read it through once before, and the fact that rereading the series to do these reviews has taken some time means the largest gap of time had passed between the first and second reading when it came to these last few chapters (making my memory of them the least fresh before reading through a second time). So the entire time prior to actually reading them once again, I’d been entirely going off memory of my first reading from like… a few months ago now, when discussing things with my friend(s) and thinking up scenarios. So, some things were like reading afresh and they just kinda outright killed me (in a good way) as if it was better than I had even remembered it being. Two examples of this are, 1. I could not recall with certainty an instance of Lex referring to Palaeno as “uncle”, and while reading through Lifting Spirits, noticed that even after the surgery he was still just referring to him as “ambassador”. Which, made me wonder if he had… So, suffice it to say… Reading this ending and seeing how he continuously refers to him as “uncle” & “my uncle” SO many times in such a short timespan, blows me away, and WOW!! WARMTH & LOVELY EMOTIONS ABOUND. 2. THIS IS KIND OF SKIPPING AHEAD TO THE LAST CHAPTER I GUESS BUT SIMON OUTRIGHT ACKNOWLEDGES THEM AS FRIENDS!!!!!!!! PLEASE I DIE OF WARMTH. I did NOT remember that, it is so… casually acknowledged!!! Like yes, yes, it is clear as DAY that, by the end, there is friendship among the trio, but it is casually verbalised by Simon like that and oh my goodness.

Lifting Spirits, Chapter 19

I will have to say that for the Lifting Spirits ending, I was way, way more invested in the themes of family and family dynamics instead of the shipping side of things. But SHIPPERS GOTTA SHIP and I respect that XD

Things spiraled out of control further and further.

Alexander… Luster Jr

Not with someone else, only Benny. …For now, anyway.

…AND HOW MANY NEW PEOPLE IS HE PLANNING ON MEETING WHEN ON HOUSE ARREST, EXACTLY?!

Lifting Spirits, Chapter 20

Really love the parallels vs differences between Benny and Lex illustrated so clearly in this chapter.

He didn’t want her to die. It seemed unfair of her to have to die while he got a second chance at living.

OH MY GOD? I Had TOTALLY FORGOTTEN THAT THIS GETS ADDRESSED/MENTIONED IN THE ENDING WHEN I’VE SPENT THE LAST FEW WEEKS/MONTHS ECHOING THIS EXACT SAME SENTIMENT!!!!

WILD that I had forgotten about this being brought up directly in the text considering how much I’ve been “”complaining”” about this EXACT “double standard”.

My memory must be SO bad I genuinely thought that Mirage didn’t even get any mention anywhere in the ending, and that after Lex’s meeting with her in the prison she promptly Disappears never to be mentioned again in Lifting Spirits, which felt INCREDIBLY unjust and to do her character a severe disservice. Once again I am a FOOL. A FOOL. That’s my entire Phantoms and Mirages reading experience let’s just be clear: me just, fumbling around blindly and making a fool of myself xDD

I actually think this being brought up directly in the text is the precise thing which planted this thought in my head in the first place too, and then I just, forgot that it was brought up in-story and started going around thinking it was my Own Original Sentiment, pffffff. THAT’S UH. A BIT OF A RUNNING THEME ABOUT THINGS FROM THE ENDING ACTUALLY. This is what I get for reading the ending Once and then needing to go off of memory alone for the next few months: suddenly it starts seeming like my ideas are Totally Original, Not Drawn From Direct Textual Hints/Discussion Or Anything. LOL.

Lifting Spirits, Chapter 21

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

I have no clue if this was intentionally meant to echo one of the Phantom’s statements in Chasing Phantoms, but I found myself noticing it, at least on second readthrough, nonetheless!

“It would be best if you wipe that smirk off your face and hold your tongue, Bobby, as I’m quite certain your assumptions won’t sit well with me.”

Benny is right there? He’s right th

Hhhhhh I guess Benny is ok with the lack of openness then? dfhjbdfjfdkjb but Bobby’s RIGHT and Lex is a LIAR~

“I feel it is our duty as your friends to rub it in. Thirty eight years old, wasn’t it?”

“as your friends” once again, I’m ascending

Simon decided to tune out the remainder of the argument. Much as he believed Bobby had a point- the Jammin’ Ninja really was worthless against an opponent as grand as the Steel Samurai- he had no interest in partaking in the discussion.

SDKJNFDNJLFSDKJ

The former spy dropped himself back in his chair to return his attention to the watch he was constructing.

The

Former

Spy

: D (I misremembered the “former” part being way earlier in the narrative… and was kinda “huh!” whenever the narrative would still refer to him as “spy” long after the surgery on this readthrough… This is an example of my oversimplification of the distinctions the text makes between Lex and the phantom; in reality, there was still a transition involved, and things/characterisation wasn’t as clear-cut as I’d remembered it being in a “before vs after the surgery” sense. The subtle changes are… super great).

Okay, so for this ending (and the plot of Lifting Spirits), there was ONE thing that slightly nagged at me. Ultimately, I couldn’t be happier with how things turned out. But one thing that did strike me is that the Phantoms and Mirages narrative very clearly frames the phantom’s lack of emotions – their impairment as a result of the bone sliver – as a disability. Through the removal of the bone sliver, this disability is ultimately “cured”, and Lex is given the opportunity to become a “real” and good person.

In real life, in the vast majority of cases, there is no ready cure for disabilities, and a person’s disability cannot be readily separated meaningfully from who they are. It is something with them their whole life. It could be said that the disability itself is being kicked aside in this narrative instead of being accepted. (But, of course, given the context, it’s pretty understandable). There’s the slight potential for things to go awry if you warp some kind of message out of the narrative somehow such as “oh, it’s okay, if you’re disabled you can still have a happy ending… You just need to “cure” your disability first!” but that is obviously an extremely unfair and uncharitable reading.

I think it’s important to clarify that the Phantom’s lack of emotions – his disability in and of itself is not what made him a bad person (obviously), it was his actions. And I think that the narrative does make that pretty clear.

But the thing is,

It’s NOT actually the case that Lex gets suddenly magically “cured” of everything. That’s not the case at all! He must continue to struggle and to strive – he may not be emotionless anymore, but now he has to deal with the opposite, which is a sort of handicap all on its own. There are lasting repercussions from the bone sliver in the sense that now he must learn to deal with the intensity of what he is feeling. With that in mind, to frame it in terms of a “disability being kicked aside” is a pretty incorrect reading.

I said this in a previous post when I kind of touched on this kind of thing:

It’s just, the notion of a character actively striving to be good and overcoming themselves vs a sudden fix that gets externally applied

But another thing is… In my mind, I had exaggerated somewhat just how much of an effect this “sudden fix that gets externally applied” has as well. Lex must not only strive to overcome the extremity of the emotions he feels now, but there continues to be development throughout Lifting Spirits regarding how he interacts with the characters around him. It’s not like he gets the surgery and his characterisation/bonds with the others suddenly and abruptly jumps to where it was at the end and remains consistent through the whole fic; not at all. There CONTINUES to be development as he makes progress towards the point he’s at in the ending, even after the surgery.

Another thing about this ending is that it is so nice.

I think that Lifting Spirits, at its core, is a really beautiful story and concept. It really is. And part of why I had, perhaps, fought against or figured I wouldn’t find a good ending convincing is because I had convinced myself that it just wasn’t possible for the phantom as a character in general to ever achieve any kind of happy ending no matter what, EVEN IF I might like such a thing. I must make some clarification here, because other stories do offer a good kind of happy ending for them, but not in the same manner in which Lifting Spirits does, Lifting Spirits definitely feels like a different “kind” of good ending and a more “direct” good ending at that. I hope that makes some sense, because articulating the difference does seem kinda difficult.

Usually with favourite characters you want them to be happy, but with the phantom it had never been like that… I only ever wanted, or expected, angst or whatnot because… I simply did not think anything else was possible. And I was pretty content with that. But you… You…!

Anyway, there is another big aspect of the ending’s greatness that I want to talk about too. It’s kind of open-ended in the best possible way…

So many things happen that well and truly make it seem like the story is drawing to a close, and YET, simultaneously, there is very much this sense of new beginnings as well, and this ending works equally well regardless of whether there’s another instalment or not.

Something little like Simon getting his hair cut, or Bobby and Simon officially moving in with each other, are awesome things that feel very significant, that make you go “wow, we really are at the wholesome, satisfying, grand conclusion to it all huh? We’ve spent so much time with these characters, but now it’s finally time for them to go on their merry way, and continue to go on with their lives beyond the text written on the page.” They are CHANGES, changes to the “status quo”. You certainly get the impression that even if the story might be “over” for the reader, it certainly isn’t over for the characters – and that is the impression we would still get if there was absolutely nothing else written beyond Lifting Spirits – that their story would continue on regardless, and there would still be… adventure.

Because that’s another thing about the ending to Lifting Spirits. It closes off, and wraps everything up so very nicely. But at the same time, it remains poised, there is just this huge atmosphere of “stuff can still go DOWN” building. It’s the perfect ending where everything gets wrapped up but it is also the perfect set-up for anything to happen beyond the conclusion.

I sense this VERY STRONGLY in the segments where, for example, Benny considers how maybe he might need all the weapons and skills he has. Feels very “calm before the storm”.

Part of what’s so great about something like Simon getting a motorcycle is that the “the subway sucks” and “Simon trying to learn how to drive” subplot(s) have been present in the series from the very beginning. And finally, finally, after trying and failing at learning to drive regular cars, Simon has successfully escaped the subway at the very end.

We are given such hints on what could lie beyond, but also, from the way things are? There are a million different ways things COULD pan out in future, and the audience is only left to wonder.

We are given this strong hint that MAYBE… just maybe, this situation isn’t quite sustainable indefinitely. That perhaps, something’s gotta give at some point.

And that no matter what, the characters probably have some wild times ahead of them. Like that’s the thing: Even if Tracking Ghosts didn’t exist, I’d be left with the lasting impression that events of “Tracking Ghosts” length may still await the characters in the future.

But it’s all left so perfectly VAGUE. All left only in the realm of possibility.

I was satisfied to the extreme with the ending, I had to just take it and run at the time (of course I always planned on reading on), although back then to an extent I was outright BAFFLED at there still being this huge instalment to go. In the words of my friend, back then when I told her that Actually, there’s STILL even MORE to read:

Like, it truly felt like EVERYTHING had already been said and done. So how…?!

And since then, of course, I have not continued reading on as of yet, which has given me plenty of time to think.

And I have since realised that, as well and as thoroughly as Lifting Spirits DOES wrap everything up, there are still tiny, potentially loose threads. Tiny threads that could be unravelled until they could give way to all manner of things, scenarios, plots.

And that aside, there’s so much else that COULD happen as well. The Lifting Spirits ending is rife with potential. It is absolutely brimming with it.

And I also found myself realising that hey, there actually are things that haven’t been said and done yet. That there ARE little tiny things left nagging at me.

Tracking Ghosts contains a whole new threat, elaboration on Lex's emotional instability, road trips through Borginia, lots more 'Mirage' and Domestique LaSoote's backstory (oooh~). Also, the mother of all epilogues and a few more bonus chapters that take place afterwards.

Okay it is actually hilarious how little I remembered of all of this by the end. And that is to say: pretty much none of it. I straight-up forgot ALL of this being even mentioned in the Author’s Note at the end, and therefore have incorporated stuff like “road trips through Borginia” and “Mirage backstory” very VERY little in how I’ve thought about what to expect from Tracking Ghosts, at least in recent times, ahahahaha. Well I’ve got… quite a lot ahead of me, I’m sure.

I am certain that there’s so much more I could probably say about this series, I could continue to go on and on, but for now, there you have it, I think. I have not done this ending justice at all – it’s just so good it defies being done justice, and I don’t think I can fully articulate what I want to. But I’m content. Across so many posts, in thousands and thousands of words, I have already said quite a bit. XD

So now, all that’s left is to take that plunge and finally start to read Tracking Ghosts as I planned on doing once this series of posts was finished, huh? XD

I start my work week tomorrow, so it’s currently looking like… I will start reading it next weekend! It will have to be a weekend, sadly, as I can’t imagine starting and diving into something so huge when I have to try and focus on work/get sufficient sleep, lol.

OH I DON’T KNOW HOW TO END THIS POST-

Thank you, so much, for everything, and uh, apologies in advance for however much I might blow up your inbox/DMs/what have you when reading Tracking Ghosts. GENUINELY DON’T KNOW how much I will liveblog to you, if only a couple of things will slip through or if I’m just outright gonna go completely wild with it XD. IT WILL DEPEND ON THE STORY ITSELF AND HOW I’M FEELING I GUESS/my reactions.

These review posts have been… they’ve been really fun, I’ve enjoyed doing them a lot. They’ve been time consuming, but it was all 100% worth it and I’m very glad I set out to do them. I couldn’t not do them, really. I found myself realising that I just needed to tell you about the incredible journey/ride this series took me on one way or another – and, of course, I just have so many thoughts and so very many opinions about it. It lends itself so readily to analysis for me. But more than that, it feels like it SHOULD be analysed and subjected to analysis.

Talking with you is really great, and I hope to talk with you heaps more in future! Not just about your stories, just in general!

Thanks again, and I hope you have a great week! And then it will be TRACKING GHOSTS TIME.

#long post

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literarytrashcollection · 5 years

Text

Where Are Any of Us Going? (Part 8/?): Suspicious

(Bucky x Reader)

AN: I’m considering adding a sexy scene in the next part or two. Thoughts?

I woke up to the bed dipping under additional body weight. I kept my eyes shut, waiting for some signifier of who it was. Once the familiar weight of Bucky’s metal arm was draped over my waist, I relaxed back into him. He pulled my hair away from my neck and pressed soft kisses along the length.

“Welcome home,” I mumbled.

He hummed in response, tightening his arm around me.

“How was your mission?”

“Can we talk about it later?”

I finally opened my eyes, peeking at the clock next to the bed. “I have to be up in three hours for work.”

He sighed heavily. “Can’t miss a day of work for me?”

“No, Pepper’s got me running the New York office for the day while she goes down to Malibu.” I rolled over so I could see him. He was a little banged up and bruised, but he was still in one piece. Pushing his hair back from his face revealed a cut across his forehead, already taped up.

He held my hand against his face, pressing a kiss to my palm. “I should’ve just told you to be an Avenger.”

“No, Pepper is so good to me. I’m her assistant and, ya know, she pays me in real money.” I laughed. His lips turned up at the corners. “I’m usually supposed to stay with her, Tony said because of my strength, I make an awesome body guard. But since she’s gonna be back tonight, she’s just letting me run things so she can have some time to herself.”

“He made you a glorified body guard for his girlfriend?”

“It pays, I’m useful, and it’s better than being an Avenger.”

He shrugged and rolled onto his back, pulling me with him so I was laying on top of him. He pulled my face down and kissed me gently. “I missed you, doll.”

“I missed you too, sweetheart.”

He sat up abruptly, taking me with him so I ended up straddling his lap, his hands on my hips as he studied my face. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I pecked him on the lips and hugged him tightly. “So much.” I added, squeezing hard.

“Doll, you’re hurting me,” he chuckled. I quickly released and sat back. He caught my hands, looking over the metal appendages. “I thought they were supposed to still look like your hands.”

“I asked Bruce to leave it off. I kind of like them like this.” I turned my hands over. “It also makes all of the employees scared of me so they actually listen.” I grinned.

He smiled and shook his head, tracing his fingers up my arms and under the sleeves of my t-shirt. “I like them.”

“Me too. They’re really strong and I can feel a lot better than I could with the old ones.” I ran my fingers through his hair. It was silky, once I got through the tangles. “I’m sorry if they’re cold.” I frowned, moving my hands down his neck and over his chest.

He shook his head. “Mine is too,” he wiggled his metal fingers at me. I could see how tired he was; the bags under his eyes, the sallow look to his face, the droop in his muscles.

I pushed him back down on the bed and rolled off him, cuddling up against his side. “Sleep with me?”

“You mean…?”

“No, dirty old pervert.” I slapped his chest lightly. “Sleep. While laying next to me.”

“Right,” he nodded, shifting around until he was comfortable. He was asleep before I could say anything else.

Knock knock. I glanced at the door to see Steve letting himself in. He smiled a little and sat a latte and Philly sandwich on my desk.

“Thought I’d swing by,” he sat down across from me, unwrapping his own sandwich.

I arched my eyebrow. “Any particular reason?”

He shrugged and smiled at me with a mouthful of food.

I moved my paperwork aside and unwrapped my sandwich, watching him warily. “Is this something to do with Bucky?”

“Am I not allowed to bring my friend’s girlfriend lunch?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, waiting.

“Okay, okay,” he sighed and sat his food down. “Tony figured out where the signal from your receiver came from, a small, underground base in the middle of Austria.”

“That’s fantastic. But why are you acting so weird?”

He pressed his palms together, looking at the floor for a moment. “It’s going to be a very dangerous mission, but we need you to come with us.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re going to use you essentially as a spy.” His face was tight. “As hard as it is to hurt you, we can put the receiver back on you and let you get some information from them. We can’t just burst in there guns blazing. If it’s dangerous, you should be able to protect yourself. If it’s just a bounce point for the signal, then it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“What if the receiver explodes? They probably know that I’m with you guys. If they see me coming, they might know what’s up and try and blow me up.”

“They already disabled it.”

I leaned back in my chair. “If it’s dangerous, you guys will be right behind me, right?”

“Me and Tony, yeah.”

“Why not Bucky?”

“Because not only is it an old HYDRA base, but he…” Steve shook his head, “he could not handle seeing you go into someplace so dangerous. We… We can’t tell him that you’re going.”

I nodded slowly.

“Tony is going to put together a bullet proof suit for you to wear under your regular clothes. You’ll have coms and video so we’ll be right in your ear. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I have to think about it.”

“You’ll have time. Tony needs to finish your suit and Natasha is gonna run through a quick lesson in self-defense, so if anything turns sour, you can protect yourself.”

“Just covering all of your bases?”

He shrugged and nodded.

“Do I really have a choice in the matter?”

“You do,” he nodded. “We can’t make you go. But it would be the easiest way to get in there.”

“How could Natasha or you or Bucky not get in easier?”

He looked pained. “If they have surveillance, then we could get spotted before we even get in.”

“Steve… I don’t know,” I rubbed my hand over my face, “What’ll we tell Bucky when I go off training with Nat?”

“You’re shopping or whatever. Or just tell him that Nat offered to train you for fun. To help with your body guard position for Pepper.” He nodded.

I stared at him for a long time, studying the worry etched into his furrowed eyebrows and the tension in his shoulders. “Fine. I’ll do it.” I took a drink of my latte.

Steve was silent for a moment before taking in a deep breath through his nose and sitting back in his chair. “I was hoping you’d say no.”

“Then why did you come?”

“Because these people hurt you, and who am I to say you can’t do something to fight them?”

“Someone who’s probably done it enough times to see how it can hurt someone?”

He shrugged. “And because Bucky is my best friend and I know he’d be destroyed if he lost you fighting a war we’ve been fighting for decades.”

“Are we sure it’s HYDRA that started all of this?”

“It’s coming from a HYDRA base so we have to imagine that it’s a viable connection.” He chuckled dryly.

“You get to tell Pepper.” I told him, returned to my sandwich.

“You’re holding your punches,” Nat snapped at me. I was panting, sweat dripping off every surface of my body. It felt like someone had run a towel over my mouth.

“I will break you.”

“If. You. Hit. Me.” She snapped and yanked me back to my feet. “Do it again.”

I bent over, bracing my hands on my knees. “I need a breather.”

“Enemies will not give you a break.” She took her position and started in on me. I quickly blocked her first hit, squawking as I stumbled back. I dodged another hit and jabbed her in the stomach, shoving her back with my knee. She rolled and quickly came back to her feet, jumping at me and wrapping her legs around my head. I stepped into it and threw her back on the ground. I rolled on top of her so she was pinned beneath me, her hands pinned over her head in one of mine, the other on her throat. “Better.” She huffed when I released her.

I walked over to the side of the room and grabbed my water bottle, sitting down for the breather that I felt I’d earned.

“You already had some training, didn’t you?”

I shrugged. “A little. My parents were always supportive when I wanted to learn stuff. I did a couple of those boxing for self defense classes before I decided I wasn’t interested.”

She nodded. “What about the shooting?”

“I don’t know. I think that might’ve come from the receiver or the mind control thing.”

“We’ll have to practice that before you go.” She nodded.

“Go where?” Bucky asked, Steve following him in.

“With Pepper to Austria for a tech expo.” Nat lied easily, a small smile on her lips.

Steve nodded a little. “Tony and I are going to.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were going out of the country.” Bucky cleared his throat a little.

“I just found out earlier today. I was going to tell you tonight at dinner.”

“Can I go?” He asked a little awkwardly.

“Actually, we have another mission to run.” Nat cut in before I could make a fool of myself.

“Right,” he nodded. “When are you leaving?”

“I think it starts next weekend, right?” Steve asked, making painfully pointed eye contact with me. I nodded. “We should get going, Buck. I’m sure the girls are busy too.”

Bucky waved a little and walked across the room with Steve.

“You have to make sure that you are sure in your lie. If Bucky gets suspicious then he’ll start nosing around.” Nat whispered to me. I nodded. “Let’s run it again.”

TAGS LIST: (Let me know if you’d like to be added!) @veganfangirl5 @libbymouse @hiddles-rose @sonic-lipstick-is-mine @coffeebeforewater @thefridgeismybestie

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dreamworksworddump · 5 years

Text

Pavlov’s dogs part 3

Lance ties his hair into a small ponytail at the back of his neck, and then settles into a defensive position; legs spread slightly, knees bent, his hands raised to guard his face. His body is not tensed, but held loosely, like a dancer about to break into movement. A small smile graces his lips, something about it mischievous, like it’s on the verge of turning into a smirk. There is nothing about this that Pidge hasn’t seen before, but there must be something, because why else would seeing him like this make her suddenly feel so hot?

Her ears and cheeks feel flushed, more so than a simple bout of cardio should be cause for. There’s a feeling in the depths of her stomach like the start of a fire- warm, and yearning. Pidge swallows uncomfortably, and takes a deep breath. Lance waits for Keith to make his move.

Behind her eyelids, she sees the highlights of the past few months flash before her; skin against skin, the feeling of something more than friendship, and there- it’s almost so obvious that she wants to kick herself for not noticing it sooner. Lance’s hair has grown longer since they’ve been away from Earth, and while Allura keeps Pidge’s hair at the same length, Lance hasn’t cut it at all. Instead he’s taken to tying it back when it gets in the way, like when they’re about to engage in- blood pulses in her ears as Lance laughs, breezily avoiding Keith’s uppercut like a leaf on the wind- when they’re about to have sex.

Keith’s lips curl into something like a grimace as he falls back. His strengths lie in his brawn, usually underestimated by his opponents, and in his ability to sniff out his opponent’s weaknesses, and go after them relentlessly. That’s great in life or death fight, which more often than not, is what Voltron is up against. But in a sparring match against a friend, or against someone that he need to disable rather than kill, it leads to hesitation. Lance isn’t a defensive fighter, but he does know the value of waiting to attack rather than rushing in. He likes to draw out his opponents strength by taunting him, and running out his endurance, and due to his years of dancing instruction, he has the agility to do so, remaining just tantalizingly out of reach until he feels that it is time to strike. However, he has a lack of long term strategy, and usually falls back on the same patterns over and over again, making it easy for an attentive opponent to figure him out. Against each other, Keith and Lance are pretty well-matched, and it is hard to tell who will come out on top when they go head to head.

Pidge keeps focusing on the wrong things; Lance’s face, the swell of his biceps, the rippling of his lithe muscles beneath his shirt. She should be paying attention to his technique, to his evasive maneuvers and Keith’s answering aggression, not the things that look visually appealing. She knows what she should be thinking about, but it’s like the correct thoughts are just out of reach. Her eyes keep drifting to the little ponytail, and that mischievous grin no matter how hard she tries to concentrate elsewhere.

Her thighs clench together, and she struggles not to squirm as a small wave of pleasure runs through her.

Lance waits for Keith to charge him, and side steps his attack. He attempts to elbow him in his back to force him to the ground, but Keith takes the strike as he turns around, violet eyes burning above his gloved fists. Lance steps lightly, shifting from foot to foot, as Keith jabs at him- uppercut, left swing, right swing- that grin of his remaining in place the whole time.

He grins as he leans over her, all length and lanky muscle, his eyes shifting from her exposed chest, to her blushing face. Lance winks, and he shifts down under the covers, nudges her knees apart, and then suddenly there is-

“Are you okay?” Hunk whispers behind a cupped hand. “You look really red.”

“I’m fine.” Hunk gives her a look, and she sighs. Better to give him a bone then have him looking too closely into the correlation between Lance’s appearance and her sudden onset of awkwardness. “I’m feeling a little overheated. I’m going to go take a shower.”

“Hmm. Okay. Feel better.” His gaze returns to the ongoign sparring session. Pidge quietly slips off of the bench and out into the hall. Maybe a nice, long shower will calm her down until she can get ahold of Lance and…. She sighs and shakes her head. She’s not sure what she’ll do, but she’ll do something alright.

By the time Pidge is done with her shower, Lance is already in his room in the midst of his usual after-workout facials. She considers waiting for him to finish up, but decides that she doesn’t have the patience for it, and starts down the hall. The ground is cold against her bare feet, and the gentle woosh of air conditioning against her skin has her feeling chilled. She crosses her arms as she reaches his door, and knocks twice.

“M’ busy.”

She knocks harder.

“Oh,” He steps in the doorway as it slides open. “It’s you.”

Pidge scowls as she brushes past him. “You don’t have to say it like that.”

“Eh,” Lance flops on his bed, his housecoat flying open to reveal his bare chest, and blue boxers. “You made me lose the match today, so I think it’s fair.”

“I left. How could I have possibly made you lose?”

Lance sticks his hands behind his damp hair, and shrugs. “I mean, the show was all for you. Once you left, it kinda wasn’t as fun.”

“Still wasn’t my fault you lost.”

“And I’m still blaming you.”

Pidge rolls her eyes, and flops on the bed next to him. “I had a good reason for that anyway.”

“Which is?” He asks as he grabs a rag to wipe his facemask off. It stains the towel bright green. He misses a few spots around his hairline, she notes as he tosses the rag aside. She catches it before it hits the ground, and rubs them away. “Thanks,” Lance catches her hands and kisses her knuckles. “But seriously. What’s your reason?”

Pidge takes a deep breath, and words come spilling out right after like water spilling from a dam. “So, you know how with Pavlov’s dogs, he rung a bell before feeding them? And then every time he rung a bell, they’d salivate, even when there was no food?”

Lance raises an eyebrow, then after a moment, nods. “Yeah?”

“So before you eat me out, you always pin your hair back.”

“And?”

“And you pinned your hair back in training earlier, and it’s still pinned up.”

Lance shrugs. “Am I missing something here?”

“So when I saw you with your hair pinned up,” Pidge wonders how people actually manage to say this kind of stuff without melting into a puddle of human embarrassment, and decides that must be either mentally indestructible, or desperate. She herself falls into the desperate category. She take a deep breath and says in one breath. “IGotWet.”

“Are you- you’re saying that you’ve been conditioned to get wet when my hair is up?” He laughs and flicks the little ponytail. “Well, maybe I should wear my hair up more often.”

Pidge slaps his arm, and tries her best not to pout when he leans forward and flicks her nipple in retaliation. “Don’t you dare.” She says, catching his hand before he can do the same to the other. “It’s bad enough as it is.”

“It?” Lance cups her crotch and presses hard against her. She shudders, and grinds down on him almost mindlessly. “I dunno,” Lance grins as he fingers her bra strap. He examines the beige elastic material like it’s something interesting, and then releases it. It snaps back, leaving a red mark on her pale skin. “I think I like it.”

She could say something snappy, something to make him think twice about his teasing her, but she doubts that that would make him inclined to stop his teasing and get to it already.

“You made this problem,” Her words are supposed to be more demanding, less like whining, but they come out like a beggar asking for water on a hot summer’s day. “You need to deal with it.”

Lance grin’s like a cat who’s caught a mouse between his clawed paws as he shoves her back against the bed. She huffs at his sudden roughness, but doesn’t get a chance to protest. He tugs her shirt until the buttons pop open, and ducks his head into the valley of her breasts to lick a hot stripe right up to her neck. If it had been any other day, any other time, she might have complained at his audacity, at his roughness, at the kind of ick that briefly followed his action, but right now, she is running so hot, she doesn’t care. He licks her right nipple, and then cups her tit in his hand, squeezing as he creates a trail of kisses leading from her chest to her neck to her ear.

His breath is hot as he says, “Am I ‘dealing with it’ right?”

Lance’s other hand caresses the sensitive line above the top of her panties, back and forth, back and forth. Her hips arch into the touch, and she squirms beneath his touch.

She bites her lip to stop herself from whimpering as she chokes out, “I’ll let you know when you finish.”

Lance tilts his head to the side. His eyes drift over her lazily, never halting anywhere for too long. His hand keeps moving on her breast, kneading carefully, as he decides where exactly he wants to pull the string to take her apart. His eyes smoulder as he kisses her softly, his tongue slipping into her mouth gently as his free hand slips under her waistband, and into her heat.

“You do that.” Lance teases as he rubs his thumb across her clit. She jolts, and he pulls his hand back. She pouts, and he holds up a finger. “I want to reinforce that ‘conditioning’ of yours.”

“Tease.” She gasps as he peels them away. “No, come ‘ere.” Her fingers dance over the lithe muscles of his arms as he leans closer, closer; she touches the broadness of his shoulders, wraps her arms around him and pulls him closer.

His blue eyes survey her face as he dips down and kisses her, gently taking her lower lip in his, testing the skin with his blunt teeth. Pidge kisses back, arching toward him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she tries to keep him there. He pulls back, but she doesn’t release him.

Lance laughs, and the sound is like audible sunshine. It brightens the room, makes her feel like laughing too. “I can’t exactly ‘finish’ if you won’t let me get started.”

“I know.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?”

“Kiss me again.” Pidge says it like a spoiled child demanding candy, and like a fool, Lance gives it to her. He kisses her again, kisses the side of her mouth, pretends that that wasn’t a mistake and makes a trail down her neck, hot and blazing.

“Can I move on to your concha now?”

Pidge feels breathless. The words come out haltingly. “I- Uh- I, um. Yes.”

“I mean, really. You’ve been such a tease today.” He spreads her thighs apart gently, and tsks. “You’ve been wet since training this morning, haven’t you?” Lance leans down, and she sees it, that little ponytail at the nape of his neck, tied away with a twice broken hair tie. He nudges her legs apart, and digs in.

No matter which way she puts it or how she looks at it, Lance is a teenage boy with no real experience with, well, anyone besides herself. He doesn’t have much skill, and neither does she. All that the two of them really have is enthusiasm, and the desire to do it, no matter how much trial and error it takes to get there. Fortunately for her, one thing Lance has plenty of is enthusiasm.

He eats at her like she’s the best tasting thing in the world. Lance doesn’t seem to notice that more often than not, he misses her clit. His tongue brushes the side of it, the bottom half, very rarely the center of the thing. He has her drenched in a mix of spit and arousal due to a lack of aim. Pidge’s hands grasp the sides of his head, holding him still as the first waves of orgasm run through her body. She bites her lip as he keeps writhing, keeps moving, even as her thighs tighten around him.

Her hands loosen as she finishes, and Lance leans back, his face darkened with blush and slick with spit. He wipes his face on the back of his hand, and leans back on his hands. His boxers are tented, a small flagpole holding up a sea of blue.

“I can- I think I can condition you too.” She slides her glasses off, and sets them on the bedside table. Pidge gets to her knees, slides a leg between his, and knocks him onto his back. “If you’re gonna be a tease all the time, don’t think I can’t be one too.”

There’s this little slit in men’s boxers. She knows that the logical explanation is that it’s for easy access for biological reasons, but isn’t it interesting how easy it is to slip his dick through that little hole, wrap her fist around the base, and stick it in her mouth.

It doesn’t taste like much to talk about. Salty, kind of, but with a weight that fills her mouth and rests heavy on her tongue. It’s not much to talk about, but the way that it makes Lance groan and twitch beneath her makes it the best thing she’d ever done.

Half of it is enough to fill her mouth comfortably, the other, still gripped in her palm. She briefly considers copying one of those cheesy pornos she knows he has on his phone, but decides that she’d prefer to not hit her gag reflex and ruin the whole sexy vibe with her sudden nausea and subsequent vomiting. She pulls back slowly, keeping her lips tight around his cock, and then lowers herself again. Spit spills down his shaft, makes her hand slide easier. Lance’s hands reach for her hair, then settles on the bed. Even now, even when he’s supposed to so out of his mind he can’t even tell what decade he’s in (as reported by the last girly magazienze she’d read), he’s concerned about her. If she could laugh, she would.

Pidge takes his hand and brings it back to her hair, holds it there until his fingers knot into her hair, holds the side of her face and holds her steady as he thrusts forward, never quite hitting the back of her throat, never quite so hard that it’s uncomfortable. He leans forward a little bit, catches her eyes right before he cums. If her mouth weren’t full, she’d be grinning.

When he finishes, and she’s done spitting it out into the bathroom sink, and the two of them are getting sleepy in the mess of blankets and pillows on the bed, she lays her head on his chest, and says, “If it’s like this everytime, I don’t think I’ll mind the ponytail that much.”

Lance wears his hair tied up three times the next week. In training again, at midnight when she went to the kitchen for a midnight snack, and once, he put it up spontaneously in the hallway when they’d stumbled into each other after a mission.

The day after that incident, she takes her glasses off, and leaves them there, and watches through a blurry gaze as he struggles to hide his boner during the rest of the Princess’s lecture.

#voltron #vld #lance #pidge #pidgance

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