#I have 1 mill words to say about this but coloring it took everything from me. don't get me started on choosing font colors.

[flightlessangelwings]

Grant a Name to a Buried and a Burning Flame ~ Chapter 2

Hades!Din Djarin x Persephone!Reader (gender neutral, no y/n)

Chapter 2/3 (chapter 1 linked in my masterlist)

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Hades/Persephone retelling, historical setting, hints of soulmate AU, fluff, mutual pining 

Moodboard made by me

~

Over the next week, you didn’t leave your little room, too angry and hurt to face the world. Ironic that you ran away from your kingdom and your castle that felt like a prison to you only to find yourself in a different kind of prison. With a sigh, you gazed out the window and watched as people milled around in the nearby streets. You thought about how happy they looked, and it made you reflect more than you wanted to admit.

Every morning, there was a knock at your door, and every morning you ignored it. You knew who it was, and you weren’t ready to face him just yet. That pull still remained, however, and you felt it harder just before he knocked at your door. And it stayed after he gave up, which compelled you to get up and open the door. When you did, you found a single flower pinned to the outside of the door. No note or anything, just the flower.

You gently yanked it off and smelled it. The fragrance felt like a welcome warmth in the coldness of your current situation, and even though you were still angry for what he did, you found that you couldn’t bring yourself to hate your new husband. Even in your head, it sounded weird: your husband. For the first time since you locked yourself in your room, a faint smile graced your face.

The cycle repeated daily, with a knock on your door that you ignored and a single flower left behind as a gift. Eventually, you had enough flowers piled on your dresser that you were able to arrange them in a beautiful little bouquet. The sight of it lifted your spirits, and you suddenly had a new resolve to actually do something with your time now that you were in this new kingdom. 

You dressed yourself in a fresh robe that was left for you and draped a cloak over your shoulders. The robe was a beautiful color, though more muted than what you normally wore, and it complimented you perfectly. Before you stepped out, you glanced over at the bouquet of flowers and decided to pick one up and tucked it behind your ear. It was the first one that was left for you, and it was by far your favorite.

As you walked the streets of the kingdom, you found that it was actually a pleasant place. The dark and dull skyline that you could see from your castle completely contradicted how full of life this place was. People milled along as they went about their business, and the market was more lively than you would have guessed. It was colder than you were used to, and the sun did not shine brightly in the sky, but overall it was not a horrible place to be. It felt homey and comfortable, which surprised you.

You greeted vendors who had no idea who you were with a smile, and you just took the opportunity to take in your surroundings. Brightly colored fruits stood out from the dark wood of the carts, and they looked too delicious. Beautiful woven robes and dresses lined another stall in deep colors that you never would have appreciated had you not seem them up close. And the streets were cleaner than you would have imagined them to be. 

The thought popped in your head that you completely misjudged this place as you stared at the skyline from afar. You wondered if you misjudged its ruler as well…

A shout from the far end of the street knocked you out of your thoughts, and you immediately rushed over to see what the commotion was about. When you approached, you saw that a man towered over a young woman. She obviously looked uncomfortable with the way he grabbed her, but no one else bothered to do anything about it. Not you, though, you were not going to stand for it.

“Excuse me,” you approached with a fire in your eyes from under the hood you wore, “Are you too blind to see that this lady does not want you in her space?”

The man scoffed and turned his attention to you, “Hasn’t anyone ever told you to mind your own business?”

You stood tall, you weren’t going to let this scum of a man intimidate you, “But it is my business,” you quipped back in a pointed tone, “Or have you not heard about the new ruler here?” Normally, you hated to use your rank, but you did not like the way this man threatened others and it was the fastest way you could think to diffuse the situation. You stared him down with a fiery gaze that you hoped would be intimidating enough.

It was, and it stopped him in his tracks as he looked into your face. Realization dawned on him and he immediately backed off, “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled as he retreated.

With a satisfied smirk, you turned to the young woman, “Are you alright?”

She nodded, “Yes… thank you…” her voice was meek and she didn’t dare look you in the eyes as she expressed her gratitude.

No one noticed, but a hooded figure watched the entire confrontation from the shadows. From under his hood, Din couldn’t help but smirk as he watched you. Your beauty and your strength were unmatched, and Din had never felt more drawn to you than in that moment. He ducked away, however, before he felt the pull toward you strengthen and you were left alone again. 

The rest of the day was uneventful and you made it back to the palace without any other incidents. When you reached your room, you found another flower on your door, and you couldn’t help the grin that lit up your face as you pulled it from the door. You thought you felt eyes on you, but when you looked over your shoulder, all you could see were shadows. With a shrug, you went into your room, unaware that Din watched you from the darkness with his own grin.

Somehow, the sun felt brighter when you woke up the next morning, and you decided to head out for the day again. As you opened the door, you came to expect a flower there, and you were not disappointed. You plucked it and tucked it behind your ear as you headed out. Strangely, you didn’t feel the familiar pull that you became accustomed to, and you wondered where the hooded man was.

You let yourself wander wherever your heart led you and you ended up in front of an orphanage. There was no shortage of orphaned children even in your kingdom, so it was a sight you were familiar with, but you wondered why of all places, you brought yourself here. With a deep breath, you stepped inside, but nothing could have prepared you for the sight that greeted you.

In the middle of the room, surrounded by children was a familiar hooded figure. He didn’t see you enter right away; he was too preoccupied with caring for the children around him. For such an intimidating man, he was incredibly soft and gentle with the little ones, and even though you couldn’t see his face, you could tell how much they meant to him. You leaned against the doorway and just watched him for a time, and a new feeling swelled in your chest.

He held a toddler in his arms, and the child looked over at you and cooed when he saw you. That was when Din finally looked up and noticed you. As the child in his lap giggled at you, he tilted his head to the side and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Is this how the rough and tough ruler of the Underworld spends his days?” you joked as you moved closer.

Din replied with a short laugh, “The foundlings are the future. We must look after them.”

You nodded in agreement, at a complete loss for words. You never expected a man with his reputation and who appeared so rough around the edges to be so caring. He seemed so genuine around the children too. The toddler in his lap reached out for you, and you carefully lifted him up into your arms.

“He’s new here,” Din explained as he watched you hold the child and he was never more grateful to have his face hidden, “I found him held captive by mercenaries on the outskirts.”

“Does he have a name?” you asked, unsure of what to say to that. You had so many questions for him, but you felt like that was a conversation for another time when you weren’t surrounded by children.

He shook his head.

You turned to inspect the child’s face. He had big brown eyes that seemed to look into your soul. When he smiled, you could see his little teeth. You don’t know why, but a name popped into your head, “How about... Grogu?”

The child cooed at your suggestion, and Din couldn’t help but laugh fondly, “Grogu?” he echoed you and the baby turned to him and babbled happily.

Both of you laughed softly as you both decided that the name stuck. You spent the rest of the day in the orphanage with him and the children, and somehow everything just felt right. The sun had long set when you two finally left, and you let him escort you back to the palace. Neither of you spoke, but you both felt comforted by the other’s presence.  You even found that you stayed closer to him than you thought you would, and the feeling when his side brushed against yours sent bolts of electricity through you. 

It wasn’t until you reached the door to your bedroom that you both stopped and turned to face each other. Even from under the hood, you could feel his gaze on you, and he slowly and carefully reached out and ghosted his hand over the flower tucked behind your ear.

You felt your skin burn at his barely-there touch, “Thank you for these,” your voice was just above a whisper, but you knew he heard you.

“It suits you,” was all he said in response, “Goodnight Persephone,” he was about to turn away, but your voice stopped him in his tracks.

You told him a name, your name, your real name, and you felt him tense in front of you, “Can…” you took a deep breath, “Can you use my real name?” when he didn’t say anything, you felt the need to clarify more, “I don’t have anything against the name. It just doesn’t feel like mine, you know?”

If you only knew how much he related to that. Din gave you a single nod and said your name in a hushed tone that made your heart skip a beat before he disappeared down the hall. You looked forward to the daily gift of a flower on your door the next morning.

Over time, you spent more and more time with Din, and you felt more and more comfortable around him. He wasn’t much of a talker, but you learned that he communicated in other ways, and you quickly learned what his head tilts and subtle body language meant. And he always continued the tradition of leaving a flower at your door every morning, and you wore it behind your ear for the day.

Most days were spent at the orphanage with Din, and you noticed how much he seemed to relax around the children. It made your heart melt when you saw this hooded, armored man be so soft with the little ones. One day while you walked back, you asked him about his life before ruling, and he told you stories of his time as a mercenary. And for every story he told you, you offered one in return, though you felt yours were far less thrilling than his.

A new routine that started with the two of you was that he would walk you to your room every night. It started the day you spent at the orphanage for the first time, and it became an unspoken thing ever since. It felt comfortable at first, but the more the nights went on, the more you found that you didn’t want to bid him farewell for the evening.

And Din felt the same way about you. He longed to reach out and caress you; the pull he felt never felt stronger than when he was about to leave you for the night.

The two of you lingered in front of your door, neither of you wanted to move. In order to keep him in front of you, you asked a question that had been on your mind since you first met, “How did you find me in the forest that day?”

He put a hand on his hip and tilted his head to the side slightly, a sign that meant he was amused, “I’ve felt a pull for some time and I followed it,” he answered plainly. He paused for a moment before he asked a question of his own, “Why did you run away?”

You sighed, you figured the question would come at some point. But, you wanted to be honest with him, “I didn’t feel right there, you know? Like it was never truly my home. I never wanted to rule, it was just something that was expected of me,” you let out a deep breath as you thought of your home for the first time in a while, “I’ve felt this pull too, so I decided it was time I followed it.”

“I never wanted this either,” he watched as you looked at him with wide eyes, “I was a mercenary most of my life. It was tough, but I was free to travel whenever I wanted,” he paused and gestured to the black sword on his belt, “I won this sword and the kingdom came along with it.”

Silence fell between the two of you as neither knew what to say next. You never would have guessed that this man had so much in common with you, or that your stories were so similar. You fiddled with your fingers as you looked anywhere but his hood. There was another question on your mind, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to ask it out loud.

He seemed to read your thoughts, and after a heavy sigh, he broke the silence, “Din.”

Your eyes met the darkness of his hood, “What?’

“My name,” he spoke in a soft voice as he carefully reached out to you, “It’s Din Djarin,” he rested his hand on your cheek as he spoke, but didn’t let himself relax until you gave him the silent permission to do so. 

You exhaled deeply as you leaned into his touch. A comfortable silence fell over you again, and this time you were the one to break it, “Din…Can I stay with you tonight? If that’s ok?”

Din’s grip on your face tightened slightly as he nodded. His hand dropped and trailed down your arm before he took your hand in his and led you down the hallway to his room. It was just as plain as the rest of the little palace, and it felt like it was more for utility than anything else. And yet at the same time, it felt homey. Maybe that was because of his presence. 

You stood in the middle of the room and bit your lip as he watched you. When your eyes fell back to his figure, you suddenly felt the urge to reach out for him. Without a word, you lifted your hands and gently caressed his face through the hood much like he did yours earlier. You heard him sigh as he leaned into your touch. The two of you stayed like that until Din covered your hands with his own and slowly started to push his hood back.

“Din…”

“It’s alright,” he whispered. In your conversations, he has spoken about the creed he took as a youngster and explained about his covered face. Din had told you that he could only remove his covering in front of his own clan, but you chose not to press it further. You were understanding and never once questioned it, and that only made him fall for you more.

Guided by his hands, you pushed his hood back so that he only had the mask on the lower half of his face. The first thing you noticed was his brown eyes, which held a softness that made your heart skip a beat. His brown hair was messy from the hood, but it looked so soft and you couldn’t resist the urge to run your hand through it once.

Then, you slowly reached for the mask, and you paused when you had a grip on it before you took it off. His eyes told you all you needed to know and you took off the last barrier from his face to the rest of the world. He looked so nervous, which was something you did not expect. The man who walked with such confidence and was always quick to protect those he deemed worthy of it, was nervous in front of you.

Your eyes scanned his face and took in every little detail that you could in the low light of his room. Your hand traced the frame of his face before you cupped his jaw and ran your thumb over his lips. Din closed his eyes and you felt his lips lightly kiss your thumb. He was so handsome, and you couldn’t resist the urge to lean forward and place a soft kiss to his lips.

He froze at first, but quickly leaned into your touch and wrapped his arms around you as he deepened the kiss. It felt like a burst of flames between your bodies as you embraced each other. It was as if every decision in each of your lives led you to exactly this moment, and nothing had ever felt more right. 

“You know,” you whispered with a smirk when you broke away for air, “If I had seen your face earlier, I wouldn’t have stayed mad at you for long.” 

Din gave you a quick half smile before he cupped your face with one hand and pulled you back into another kiss. This kiss was much more heated and passionate. You moaned into the kiss as you felt Din shuffle your bodies towards his bed, and you were more than happy to let him lead you there. 

Din broke away just for a moment to say your name. He waited for your eyes to open and meet his before he spoke again, “I love you.”

You smiled widely as you kissed him again, “I love you too, Din.”

~

Notes: Thank you all so much for the amazing response to chapter 1!! I really appreciate all the love on this!! This chapter was really just fluff and falling in love before the dramatic climax in the last chapter. I hope you all are enjoying my take on this tale! Taglists are open so let me know if you’d like to be added to my Pedro characters, Din Djarin or just Hades!Din lists.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fluff #din djarin fluff

[oootsevenlyon]

why I'm not happy about the cb/mOnO

mOnO is OnlyOneOf's announced new single to be released on September 10, 2021 and OnlyOneOf isn't excited about it.

Not to mention there's a song release while 8D Entertainment still refuses to address fans' concerns about Jisung's departure.

I'll put most of the rest of this under a cut because it's long and i'll be discussing bubble messages. but just in case you're like "what's mOnO?":

It's a digital single announced as their first 6 member release, first teased with individual portrait shoots starting September 1st and then more properly announced on September 7.

Under the tagline "from boy to man", it is supposed to convey a "more intense and mature look."

[here's the Naver article this quote is from]

So here's all the things that bother me:

First, a few short comments on things I don't have a lot to say on but that are still notable:

- the line "from boy to man" really bothers me because their previous releases haven't been immature at all, they're literally all adults who for the most part manage their own content and Kyubin is literally 29 none of them are boys what are you on about?!

- the whole release, including the photoshoot, feels very rushed. the picture quality is... decent enough i guess? Except if you look at the group teaser picture, the "OOO" mark is incredibly low-res which is really weird for a watermark

look at that. what's that?

As I've said before, quoting the TV show Skins is... a choice I can't make sense of? And there was that one quote that wasn't even a real Skins quote. It really feels like 8D just ... googled that? And then didn't even fact check? Doesn't feel like something OOO would do. Doesn't feel like something Jaden would do..

- obviously it's ridiculous that 8D was silent for a month about a major reorganisation of their only group and them quite apparently silencing their members and then just drops some teaser as if everything is normal, that's a given and i'm not elaborating on it here because i talk about it literally every day.

- "mOnO", paired with the black and white pictures, the whole theme appears to be about "monochromatic" - anyway, here's a quote by Nine from an interview: "It means a lot to get away from black and white. By adding more elements and colors to our albums, we hope to represent our growth.” (he's talking about the ice and fire packaging)

[link to the article is here]

And now - OnlyOneOf isn't excited about this release.

I'm really only basing this on bubble messages - we also have the fancafe and the member twitter account. But bubble is that one platform where I, like, check my phone on my lunch break and there's 37 new messages from Rie. So. Bubble. I'm paraphrasing in parts and you aren't supposed to post their messages outside of bubble because it's a paid service. But if you don't have bubble and you want to see their messages for yourself, there are places on the internet where you can find translations of all their messages from the very beginning.

I'll do this teaser by teaser, and put everyone's reactions:

Yoojung -

from Yoojung: "who saw the teaser~~~" (0:47 am KST) + that he was surprised when he saw the picture + thanking everyone for complimenting him.

from KB: saying that yoojungs photo is "a big hit 🤯 " (0:48 am KST)

KB -

from KB: "i like the teaser.." (17:02 KST)

from Nine: saying that KB's picture came out well (6.11 am KST)

Rie -

from Rie: "wow you guys are seriously amazing, i can’t believe you put it together.." (0:48 am KST) (*bc people were right abt his teaser being next)

Mill -

- Mill hasn't mentioned his or any other teaser -

from Nine: "oh!! it's Yongsoo?!? I thought it would be Junji 흐흐" + Mill's hair has gotten long + he's handsome (0:05 - 0:14 am KST)

from Rie: saying that his teaser looks like a perfume model (2:01 am KST)

Junji -

from Junji: "it’s me?!ㅎㅎㅎㅎ" (1:18 am KST)

from Nine: "doesn’t junji's hair fit him perfectly????!??!?" (17:53 KST) (but he didn't fall in love with him!) (+ next day talking about it again, "oh my jjunji isn't that too erotic...?!?!" (Sep 6, 1:27 am KST))

Nine -

from Nine: 19:28 KST - is looking forward to the teaser, hopes it comes out soon / 23:50 KST - "is it time already?!?!?" + what kind of picture will it be? / 1:28 am KST - "oh right my teaser is up too" (after talking about Junji's teaser again) + how he took out his piercing bc he thought it would fit the picture better

group picture -

- nothing -

video teaser -

from Nine: "oh the teaser was uploaded ㅎㅎ it's my voice 하 " (4:15 am KST)

basically - that's nothing. even with wookjin clowning us like that, it's literally nothing. they've talked about getting vaccinated a whole lot more than they've talked about this song. no word of excitement about the actual music. big "oh, right... the teaser" vibes. all the reactions we have are basically about the visuals, not about the content or the concept

#onlyoneof #ooo #onlyoneof love #park jisung #park love #8d entertainment

[memes-in-a-half-shell]

Business AU - Working Late, Part 4

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Flirt mode  A C T I V A T E D 👏

As everyone else in the room was getting ready to depart for the day - chatting here and there and gathering their belongings - Vee was mostly occupied by her handbag, making sure everything was there before she would leave the place. She did not hear when someone approached her, but she next felt the poke of an object to her right shoulder.

“I didn’t want to make you feel bad earlier,” started Donatello’s voice. “But I truly do think we’re connected somehow now.”

She looked at him, first noticing that he had been poking her with a cardboard file folder, and then she took a good look at his clothes. Purple. AT LEAST not the same shade. He was wearing a fitting v-neck sweater of a dark purple color, with a white shirt  and a black tie underneath, his looks completed with dark charcoal pants and black shoes.

“... You’ve got to be kidding me,” started Vee with a stifled laugh. “Why are we like this?”

“I’m not superstitious, but maybe it’s destiny. We were meant to work together,” he winked. “Great minds think alike!”

Vee couldn’t hide her smile, next prompting him to get on the move for their dinner. She first expected them to walk out of the building and head to a subway station, but she was surprised to see the turtle head towards the indoor parking lot of the building.

“Wait, you want us to go by car?” she asked, her heels clacking rapidly on the tiled floor as she caught up to him.

“Why not? It’ll be quieter that way! I don’t feel like dealing with crowds in the subway anyway.”

She had to give him that, at least. A car would smell better than a subway train... As they made their way through the lot, she noticed Donnie getting out keys, the woman commenting:

“Huh, I thought you’d have a chauffeur or something like that.”

“Why, because I’m rich?” asked the mutant, amused. “I like driving, so I don’t see why I would leave all that fun to someone else.”

He pressed a button on a small remote attached to a key, which prompted a black SUV nearby to flash its light.

Vee was most certainly impressed by his taste, first observing the vehicle until she noticed the other opening the passenger door for her.

“The lady may take her seat.”

As she took place, her eyes scanned the interior.

The major difference she could notice from any other cars was how the driver seat was rearranged a bit further back, allowing space for the mutant’s shell most probably. As Donnie took place next, Vee couldn’t help her question:

“Is this car completely custom made?”

The other smirked: “If it was, it’d be way cooler. ... Nah for this I only had a Genesis GV80 model slightly modified to accomodate my form. I like the look of it and I don’t need something too extravagant to go around on the streets.”

“ ‘Don’t need something too extravagant’,” quoted the woman. “You do realize that you have an expensive car?”

“Remind me to show you my brother Mikey’s cars,” added Donnie, then starting the car’s ignition. “Then we can talk back about what’s expensive.”

As soon as the vehicle was brought to life, music was heard, being none other than Dio’s “Better In The Dark” track. The turtle rapidly fumbled to turn it down, his eyes widening.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry for that,” he said once silence was back.

“... Are you kidding? You shouldn’t apologize for listening to Dio!” reassured Vee. “That guy frickin’ rocks!”

The terrapin smirked: “Ah, a woman of good taste! You keep on getting better and better.”

Vee couldn’t help her smile in return, the pair then finally getting on the move.

***

Donnie had to park his SUV on a quiet street, the duo next walking towards their destination; New York’s Little Italy. The evening was already laying its shadows in the sky, but the streets were bright and colorful, the warmth in the air of the incoming summer days an absolute delight. A light conversation was held as they were walking, until Vee was abruptly stopped by almost falling due to one of her heels stumbling into a small crack in the sidewalk. She was first surprised by how fast Donnie had been to catching her, a small laugh escaping her. To feel his touch around her, his strength, all she could hear was her heart drumming in her ears. They continued their path, Vee’s arm hooked to Donatello’s. It simply felt like a dream at that point...

They finally arrived to the place; a small rustic looking restaurant that had been hiding from the bigger crowd’s broad sight. There were few patrons inside, the ambiance calm and somehow giving a “feels like home” kind of vibe. Donnie seemed to know the place well, only quickly waving to the staff and already going for a table. It was a nice little corner with a table large enough so they could lay down their paperwork. Being a complete gentleman, the mutant was quick to draw a chair for Vee to sit on, waiting until she was seated properly before settling down across the table. A waiter was already at their disposition, Donnie already asking for a bottle of white wine, interjecting some Italian words in the bunch and ending with a “grazie mille”, to Vee’s surprise.

“You speak Italian?” she asked as the waiter was walking away.

“Non molti, ma un po' sì (Not a lot, but a little bit yes),” he answered. “Still learning, but I’m getting there.”

“Do you know any other languages?”

“I’ve tried to start learning Japanese alongside my brother Leonardo, but I’m not as proficient as him so far. I’ve also started French.”

Vee couldn’t help herself: “Donc, si je parle dans ma langue maternelle, tu devrais comprendre? (So, if I speak in my native tongue, you should understand?)”

Donnie froze for a moment, soon ruminating the words and showing a smile.

“Un peu (a bit),” he said. “But I feel like I need to practice a little more.” He did not skip a beat when adding: “I don’t know why, but I think a French Canadian’s accent sounds way more interesting than metropolitan French. There’s a certain flair to it, I can’t really explain...”

Vee was most certainly amused: “Try going into any rural parts of Québec, then you’ll feel like you’re speaking to aliens or something. Our French is unique, sometimes butchered, but it is nice indeed.” She did a small shrug. “I could help you practice, if you want.”

Their wine arrived, their glasses filled and the bottle left at their table. Donnie took his glass, pensively rolling the drink in his hand.

“You keep on giving, miss Vee, and I’ll soon feel cheap. First you’re helping me for the Lowline, now you’re proposing to help me with my French. ... My oh my, mademoiselle, I’ll have a debt to repay once again.”

“Let’s start by actually getting something for dinner,” added the woman, lifting the menu to her face in order to hide her blush. “It’ll give me time to think about if I need your help with something. What’s good in here?”

It was so hard to act casual...

“Their pastas are the best, but I’ll have to say that their tiramisu is to die for - I’m definitely grabbing one of those at the end.”

As the evening went along, Vee was finally starting to feel more at ease. The food was delicious, the wine delectable, and the company absolutely charming. They took some time to review the folder Donnie had brought along, talking about the project’s restrictions and demands. It was simple enough thus far, some ideas already boiling in the woman’s mind. Maybe the wine was kicking in, but she didn’t even flinch when her hand brushed the turtle’s over some papers. Her body language was screaming interest, lightly hunched over the table, actively listening to him and her smile tender. She couldn’t quite explain this attraction she felt. All she knew was that Donnie had this aura surrounding him; a welcoming and calm presence that made her feel safe and relaxed. His humor was subtle and his additions to a conversation well-placed. He was a man of many words and of a vast knowledge, although gladly giving the spotlight to any soul speaking, always listening with great interest. Vee could only admit that she wanted to learn more about him.

***

The dinner over, the pair headed back to the SUV, Donnie at least insisting that he could drop Vee to her place. How could she say no to a sweet smile such as his, anyway? The address handed, the ride went on smoothly in a comfortable silence, the woman glancing at the many lights outside - not even noticing that the terrapin would sometimes glance her way and feel this lovesick knot in his chest...

As he parked nearby her apartment building, he did not hesitate to get out as well, at least considering it good etiquette to escort her to the entrance.

“I hope I didn’t make it harder for you by cramming all that information in your face?” he said as they were talking, arms hooked again.

Vee shook her head, amused: “Absolutely not. It has given me ideas, in fact.”

“Good, good.”

As they stopped by the main door, they paused, their hooked arms transitioning into a longing, yet subtle touch of their hands. Vee finally moved her hand away, her blush faint as she removed a small strand of hair from her face.

“... This was nice, thank you,” she said. “Not the habitual work meetup I’m used to, but this was good for a change.”

Donnie quickly cleared his throat, retrieving his thoughts.

“Of course! It was quite pleasant, indeed. ... It’s not often that I get such enjoyable company.”

“You’re sweet, thank you.”

There it was, that silence as they both crossed gaze. That moment of unspeakable words and uncertain actions... The mutant sweetly smiled, breaking that moment.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at work. ... Goodnight, Vee.”

“Goodnight, Donnie.” She felt like she could breathe again...

Yet, as she saw the other walk away, she added:

“Donnie!”

He turned back.

“I think I know how you can repay me for the French lessons,” she continued. “... How about another evening together? Not work related this time.”

Joy lightened up the turtle’s features, definitely agreeing: “Absolutely!”

And just like that, the night felt even better.

((Part 5))

#it's-a-moi #business au #man oh man oh man oh maannnn I already have some scenes planned #I'M SO PUMPED BY THIS #it's short and straight to the point - mama likes that #and of course the usual apology is there are some errors here and there #my brain is poo tonight #**if there are #SEE I MAKE ERRORS EVEN IN MY TAGS

[sokkascroptop]

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 14

part 1 | part 13 | part 15

A/N: Just a warning, if you all hop in my asks saying Y/N x Katara Rights!! i’ll cut you :) so this chapter is kind of a filler and was so hard to write?? but it’s needed because of literally one part and you’ll know what it is when you read it. Also, Katara and Y/N separately have One Brain Cell that serves as impulse control but when they’re together they cancel out and they would rather die than think.

Y/N couldn’t sleep that night. They had all decided to turn in early since Sokka wanted them up at the crack of dawn, but Y/N couldn’t stop tossing and turning, thinking about the little village on the water down below them that was suffering so much. Suffering because of her nation. Their nation. Katara was right, she felt cold and heartless doing nothing, but Y/N wasn’t sure of what she even could do for them.

Seeing the rundown fishing village was the worst part of their journey so far. Y/N had never imagined in her wildest dreams that there were Fire Nation citizens living in such poverty. At home, in Capital City, a pretty picture was painted of all the towns in their nation, even towns like this one, where steel mills were built to provide their armies with weapons; actually, especially these towns.

“Look at this place. We have to do something!” Katara said as soon as they stepped onto one of the docks. 

Sokka stopped in his tracks. “Uh no, we can’t waste our time here. We have a bigger mission we need to focus on. These people are on their own.” He waved his hands, signifying the end of the discussion. 

However, Katara was just getting started. Aang and Y/N shared an uncomfy look as the two Water Tribe siblings began arguing. “These people are starving, but you’d turn your back on them? How could you be so cold and heartless?”

“I’m not turning my back!” Sokka said defensively. “I’m just being realistic. We can’t go around helping every rinky-dink town we wander into. We’ll be helping them all by taking out the Fire Lord.”

“Hey, Loudmouth!” Toph smacked a hand over Sokka’s lips. “Maybe we should be a little quieter when we talk about ‘taking out the Fire Lord’.” 

“Katara, be reasonable about this,” Sokka said quietly. “Y/N gets it.”

At the sound of her name, Y/N looked up from where she was dragging her sandal between the slats of wood, trying to become invisible. Katara and Sokka both looked at her expectantly. “Katara, I’m sorry but I think Sokka is right.” She frowned at her own words. “The mission needs to come first. It will help everyone in the long run.”

“Let’s just get what we need and go.” Aang tried to sound upbeat but everyone knew he was just trying to defuse any more arguments. 

Sokka laid out his schedule across their campsite right over Y/N’s lap. As Toph, Aang and Katara bent mud out of the river’s water and boiled it to drink, Sokka and Y/N peered over the paper. She couldn’t read any of Sokka’s messy handwriting but she was able to get the gist of things with the copious color coding. Sokka was crouching over her shoulder mumbling to himself. 

She turned to him. “Does it ever stop?” She asked.

Sokka grunted, “Huh?” he continued to look over the schedule, tracing the lines with a finger. 

“That little hamster-weasel running on the wheel that powers that brain of yours. Does he ever stop?”

Sokka narrowed his eyes and stood up, completely ignoring her which made her giggle. “Because we spent the whole day here, we’re going to have to wake up every morning forty-three minutes earlier to make it to the Fire Lord in time for the invasion.”

“Forty-three minutes,” Katara deadpanned. 

“Well I’m not waking up early,” Toph said, lying back on the dirt.  

Y/N reached up and yanked on the hem of Sokka’s tunic until he paid her attention. “Yeah, me either, bud. I don’t get up before that sun rises.”

“Then we’re just going to have to take potty breaks with food breaks.” 

There was a chorus of, “ewww” from the rest of the group but Sokka looked unperturbed. “It’s efficient!! It doesn’t matter, we have to leave first thing in the morning.” Sokka rolled up his schedule and stomped off to his sleeping bag leaving the four of them to wonder how he became the one in charge.

---

Y/N couldn’t sleep that night. They had all decided to turn in early since Sokka wanted them up at the crack of dawn, but Y/N couldn’t stop tossing and turning, thinking about the little village on the water down below them that was suffering so much. Suffering because of her nation. Their nation. Katara was right, she felt cold and heartless doing nothing, but Y/N wasn’t sure of what she even could do for them.

Y/N sighed and turned over for what seemed like the fiftieth time that night. She grimaced as her shoulder rolled right onto her hair, yanking it painfully from her scalp. She sat up pulling her hair around to the front. She’d never thought much about it before, always putting it in a braid to keep it out of her face while sparring. Now that she was walking around the Fire Nation with it down all the time to hide her identity, she was much more aware of it. She couldn’t remember the last time it was cut, it was as long as Katara’s and the humidity had made it wavy. It was heavy and thick and always made her hot when the sun was shining. 

She ran her fingers through it a couple times, pulling at some tangles (that was another downside to it being down all the time) then slid out of her sleeping bag. She padded quietly barefooted past Toph, who was next to her and walked in the direction of the village. She climbed a little hill and sat with her knees pulled up in the grass overlooking the small water town. Thick black smoke billowed from the towers, even though it was well into the night. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” Y/N jumped at the sudden voice but settled as Katara sat next to her, pressing their arms together. “Sorry.”

“I see that you couldn’t either.”

“Every time I close my eyes I see those villagers,” Katara mused. 

“Me too.”

“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows. “I thought you agreed with Sokka on leaving them to deal with everything on their own.”

“I was wrong,” Y/N admitted. “I think I wanted to ignore what was happening because I didn’t want to believe that my nation would let this happen, but it’s right in front of my eyes. They let these people down. I want to help in some way.” 

“Do you have a plan?” Katara was smiling now. 

Y/N smirked. She hadn’t known the girl for long, but it was like their minds had already melded. “Kind of. But I think I need the help of a really powerful waterbender.”

---

“My mom used to tell me stories about the spirits,” Y/N used her thumb to wipe a line of red paint down Katara’s chin. They were sitting on the edge of the bank near the muddy water. The tiny village was across from them, quiet for the night. “There was one that was my favorite and she was called The Painted Lady. Close your eyes–” Y/N wiped the red paint over Katara’s eyelids and made curling lines over cheekbones. “–she was a river spirit. It’s the best persona you could have for where we are. If anyone sees you they’re going to think that’s who you are.” She wiped the leftover paint on her skirt. 

Katara donned the wide brimmed hat they had found and Y/N helped her position the lace netting around her face. Y/N pulled the hood of her black cloak up and she hopped in one of the canoes. She crouched down on the bench as Katara created a mist to hide the boat and began to bend the water around them and push them towards the factory. 

It took most of the night to distribute the food they had stolen. The boat was only so big and two trips had to be made to get enough which made it all more risky but both of the girls knew that it would all be worth it in the end. When they reached the shore Y/N collapsed with fatigue on the sand while Katara washed the paint off with clean water. 

Katara sat down heavily next to her. She sighed but she was clearly pleased with what they had done. 

“Katara… I need your help with something.”

---

“Are you sure you want to cut it all off?”

Katara hovered over Y/N’s shoulder holding the blade Y/N had stolen from Sokka’s bag when she stole his cloak. Slowly, she reached out and touched a few strands of hair at Y/N’s back.

Y/N nodded. “Right here.” She pointed to her shoulder. She stared straight ahead into the water as she spoke, not trusting herself to look back at her friend. “Hair is our honor. I know it’s silly, it feels so stupid to be so attached to something so insignificant like hair, but I just couldn’t do it before. I think I still believed in the back of my mind that I could go back; that I could be accepted back. But, not anymore. And I don’t think I want to. Not until it’s some place I can be proud of again. I cannot have honor in a nation I don’t even find honorable. I need redemption for myself. I need to prove to myself that I am not like them anymore. And step one is cutting all ties,”–Y/N took a deep breath–”so get to cutting.”

---

The next morning, Y/N woke to shouting. Before she was able to even see clearly she had jumped to her feet and grabbed her sword. Only then did she realize it was Sokka yelling. 

“What’s going on you guys?” Y/N rubbed her sleep bleary eyes. Katara and her had walked back with the sun on the horizon. Neither one of them could have gotten more than an hour of sleep. 

“Appa’s sick! It’s awful!” Sokka wailed.

Y/N reached over and patted the sky bison on the snout. He gave a large groan as if to emphasize he wasn’t feeling well. “Aw, poor guy.”

“I didn’t know you cared so much, Sokka,” Toph said as she scratched under Appa’s chin.

“We might as well just throw out the whole schedule!” One look at the others, who were glaring in his direction, sent him stumbling forward to hug Appa’s huge neck. “And I’m concerned because my big furry friend doesn’t feel well.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Y/N rolled her eyes in Katara’s direction.

Sokka did a double take. “Your hair.”

Y/N reached up to touch the ends self-consciously. “Yeah.”

“Who’s hair?” Toph asked.

“Y/N cut her hair!” Aang exclaimed. 

Toph’s glassy eyes widened. “How short!?” 

“It’s at my shoulders,” Y/N replied. 

“When did you cut it?” Sokka furrowed his brow.

Y/N shrugged. “Last night.”

Before Sokka could ask more questions, Katara broke in. “I think we should head into town for some medicine for Appa.” 

---

Y/N walked in the back of the group next to Katara. “How did you… you know?” She cocked her head back in the direction of their camp.

Katara smiled mischievously. “I found these purple berries and fed Appa a ton of them. He just has a stomach ache.” Both of them began giggling which earned them a suspicious look from Sokka. 

“What are you laughing about?” 

“Nothing!” Y/N waved a hand around her. “We’re talking about how much the village has changed.”

Indeed the village was much livelier due to the food Katara and Y/N had delivered. And like Y/N suspected, they all thought it was because of The Painted Lady. Shoe had commended her for bringing them food in the night. When they found out that there was no medicine in the town, Y/N knew what Katara had planned for the extra night they were going to have to stay. 

---

Sokka had ignored Y/N the whole day. If he had done so a few weeks ago, she wouldn’t have thought for a second about it. But now, they were friends, they sparred every evening but even when they weren’t sparring they still talked. She watched him plan for the invasion or he watched her and Katara make dinner. 

Silence had never been so deafening. 

And finally the silence was broken during dinner. 

“You said that you went and cut your hair in the middle of the night.” 

The spoon that was halfway between her bowl and her lips almost slipped through her fingers. “Yeah, so?” Y/N asked. 

“Well, Shoe said that The Painted Lady was delivering food to the village in the middle of the night but you didn’t say anything about seeing her.”

“I didn’t see her,” Y/N said defensively. “I’m not sure why you’re interrogating me.” 

“I’m not interrogating, just wondering.”

Y/N watched as Sokka went back to eating his dinner like nothing happened. She narrowed her eyes at him. There was only one reason why he would be asking such weird questions...

“I just think it’s a little weird that you cut your hair in the middle of the night.”

A shot of anger coursed through Y/N’s body. She couldn’t stop herself from leaning forward. “Sokka, go ahead and ask it because I know you’re dying to.”

“Are you The Painted Lady?”

“No,” Y/N dropped her bowl next to the fire. “I’m going for a walk.” 

“I’m coming too!” Toph chirped.

Y/N turned back to look at the girl. “No, you’re not.”

“Too late, Not Painted Lady.” She was already pushing Y/N’s back, guiding them away from the campsite. 

---

“You know I’m really not The Painted Lady,” Y/N said. She began to balance herself on a pointy rock but thought better of it when she felt it begin to shift underneath her. She sent a dirty look in Toph’s direction.

“I know, but Katara is. And there’s no way she knew about an obscure Fire Nation spirit.”

“Um...”

“You guys weren’t necessarily quiet when you came back this morning.”

“Riiight.” Y/N bit her lip. “You’re not going to tell Sokka are you?”

“What Sokka doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Y/N sighed, relieved. “Thank you, Toph.”

“You’ll owe me of course.” Toph began to balance herself on the same rock, Y/N had just been on. 

Y/N laughed. “Owe you?”

“Yeah. Like, sometime, someday I’ll come to you and you owe me for keeping your secret.” Toph grinned. 

“I’m going to come to regret this, I think.”

“Probably.”

---

Y/N stayed behind that night. Sokka had been too suspicious of her and besides there wasn’t much she could do while Katara healed all of the sick villagers. The next night, however, Katara shook her awake after only a few hours of sleep. She held a finger to her lips and led her away from the campsite, far enough so they could talk without being heard. 

“I need your help tonight,” she whispered.

Y/N didn’t need to be told twice. “What are you thinking of doing?”

Katara’s eyes were wide. “Sokka was right. These villagers need to be able to help themselves but they can’t while that factory is still polluting their water.”

“Oh, you’re gonna–”

“Yeah, we’re going to blow it up.”

“I’ll get my sword.”

---

Y/N sure wasn’t expecting Aang to be so open to the idea of ecoterrorism considering his usual passive nature, but he was a big help with destroying the factory. They were lucky that he had woken up and caught them when they were leaving. 

The sun was shining when the three of them got back and it was already starting to warm up. Y/N had her black cloak thrown over her shoulder and she was laughing at something Aang had said. 

“–and when you unscrewed those screws with your sword and water came bursting out and flooded the whole floor.” Aang made an explosion noise and started giggling all over again. 

Katara shushed them both. “Quiet, we don’t want to wake Sokka up–oh hey… Sokka.”

Y/N tucked her cloak behind her back but the damage was already done. “We were just out on a morning swi–”

“Walk,” Katara corrected. Y/N bit her tongue. How had she almost said swim? Swim?! The river was literally polluted with probably dangerous levels of chemicals and she had almost said they went swimming in it. 

“I know you’re The Painted Lady, Y/N! I know you’ve been sneaking out at night and helping the villagers but I didn’t think that you would recruit my sister to help you!”

Y/N was taken aback at the anger that was radiating off of him. It was so different than just a few days earlier when they were sitting in Appa’s saddle joking with one another. As a matter of fact, Y/N wasn’t sure he’d ever shown this much outward fury to her when he hated her. 

“Sokka, leave her alone!” Katara stepped in. 

Y/N grabbed her arm and pulled her back. It was better for him to be mad at her than his sister. “No, it’s fine. He’s right. I shouldn’t have done it.”

Sokka was fuming. “You put this whole mission at risk while you were off being reckless. We’re leaving right now.”

Normally she might have said something to defend herself but instead Y/N just bumped their shoulders together as she walked past him. She packed her bags silently and rolled her sleeping bag before tossing it all into Appa’s saddle. 

Her feelings were hurt that Sokka would think that she would intentionally put them in harm’s way or mess up their mission. But something about his anger seemed misplaced; like there was more to it all. She could have expected that reaction if she had gotten caught, but she hadn’t been. As Y/N tried to rack her brain to figure out what made him tick she heard a buzzing out on the river. Even from where she was standing she could see the Fire Nation soldiers from the factory riding jet skis towards the village. 

“Oh no. No, no, no.” Y/N ran to the cliff overlooking the village and fell to her belly. Katara dropped down next to her and Sokka and Aang on her other side. 

Toph came up last. “What’s going on?”

Y/N watched in horror as the Fire Nation soldiers rode up alongside the dock and jumped off their jet skis. They began to approach the large group of villagers who had come outside to see what the noise was about. 

“What did you do?!” Sokka accused Y/N. She shook her head, unable to speak.

“We destroyed their factory,” Katara muttered.

“You what?!” Sokka yelled.

“It was your idea!” Katara yelled back at him.

“It doesn’t matter whose idea!” Y/N shot to her feet. “I’ve got to help them.”

“You can’t!” Sokka grabbed her wrist to keep her from running away. He was holding on a little too tightly and Y/N desperately wanted to yank out of his grip. She looked at his wild eyes and it finally clicked what the other emotion was. He was scared. Afraid that they were going to get hurt. Afraid that she was going to get hurt. “Those soldiers are out for blood. They want revenge.”

“Well, she’s not going alone!” Katara ripped Sokka’s hand off of Y/N. “We can’t turn our back on people who need us.”

---

Katara and Y/N ran side by side down the trail that led to the water. “I’ll go buy some time. You go put on The Painted Lady costume. If the soldiers think that this village is protected by her they’re less likely to come back.” 

“Got it,” Katara ran off in the direction she had stashed her cloak and hat. 

“I’m coming with you,” Sokka panted as he ran down the hill followed by Toph and Aang. 

“I thought you wanted to leave them,” she retorted. Y/N was done being nice if he wasn’t going to be.  

“I’m not going to leave you.” Sokka held her gaze. “Or Katara,” he added quickly. 

Y/N blinked. “Oh. Okay, come on.” She pushed one of the canoes into the water. “Aang, can you push us over to that dock there?” She pointed to a deserted dock on the back side of the village. The soldiers wouldn’t see them there. “And then go help Katara.”

“You got it!” He said brightly.

“What do I do?” Toph asked, clearly feeling a bit left out. 

“Go make scary spirit noises for Katara,” Sokka instructed.

“Ugh, okay.” Toph ran off among the rocks and cliffs. 

---

Aang used water bending to push their canoe. They each grabbed the wooden dock and hauled themselves up it, their boat floating under the dock and off with the current. No going back now. Sokka and Y/N snuck up to the back of the group of villagers and caught the tail end of whatever the soldier had been telling them. 

“–destroyed our factory! We’re going to cure the world of this wretched village.”

Y/N pushed her way to the front of the group. “No you’re not.” She held her hands in loose fists by her side. She was itching for her sword but she had left it at camp in her rush to get here. 

“And who’s going to stop me?” the large soldier taunted. 

Y/N didn’t spare a second thought. She leapt forward and punched him in the chest twice. The armor made her knuckles ache and sent reverberations up her arms. She ducked under a flaming punch from him and kicked his kneecap. He grunted and fell to his knee. He reached forward and before she could jump away, grabbed one of her ankles, pulling her feet out from under her. She shrieked and twisted midair, landing on her shoulder. 

That’s when a boomerang came from behind her, looping around to hit the soldier in the back of head, only to be caught again by it’s master. It only gave Sokka enough time to pull Y/N to her feet, because the soldier barely flinched. Agni, his head must be thick, Y/N thought. 

The soldier pulled back his fist ready to throw fire at them when it was quickly stifled by a stiff breeze that whipped Y/N’s hair around her face. 

He tried again, only for his fire to be blown out again. He growled and went to try a third time. He was interrupted by another soldier. “Uh, boss? What’s that?” He pointed in the direction that the wind came from. A large wall of fog was moving their way. In the distance, there was a rhythmic thumping that could only be a large boulder being lifted and dropped over and over again on the ground; and Y/N was sure she could hear Appa growling as well. 

The fog parted and Y/N could see Katara standing between two rolling, white clouds. Then, she was moving towards the dock at frightening speed, gliding over the water like she was flying. She landed gracefully and stood there staring at two soldiers in front of her. 

“Come on, let’s move the people further back.” Y/N patted Sokka’s shoulder and the two of them guided the villagers further back onto the platform to keep them out of harm’s way. 

Behind her, Y/N heard a yelp and two of the soldiers ran back to their jet skis and drove off without another thought. Only after they left did their swords hit the deck with a clang, evidently bent out of their hands by Aang and thrown to the sky.

“Stand your ground!” Their leader shouted. Katara bent the water around two more of their jet skis and lifted them high in the air. Y/N watched in complete awe as she threw them sideways into the face of the cliff where they exploded on impact. The rest of the soldiers sprinted back to their jet skis leaving their leader alone. 

“I’ll take care of this myself,” he growled. It was like it all happened in slow motion. He created a whip of fire and bent it at Katara. Y/N was sure it was going to hit her, she didn’t even move to block it. Y/N gripped Sokka’s arm and then Katara was gone. 

From below the deck, Aang had bent the air around Katara and lifted her high above them. Another gust of wind knocked the soldier into the muddy water. Katara floated on mist above him. 

“Leave this place and never come back,” The Painted Lady commanded. 

Y/N had never seen someone swim so fast. That was when she realized she was still holding her breath. She sighed in relief as Katara landed back on the platform. Aang crawled out from under the dock and Sokka and Y/N ran to join them. 

Behind her, the villagers were cheering but the sound was muted because Y/N didn’t care about that, all she cared about was that her and her friends had made it in one piece. 

A loud bang sounded from the shore and everyone went silent, their eyes searching for where the noise came from. 

“HELLLOOOO!” Someone shouted angrily from the bank. 

Sokka and Y/N shared a confused look before she burst out laughing. “Oh my spirits, it’s Toph. She can’t get over here.” Y/N grabbed Sokka’s hand and pulled him to one of the canoes to paddle over and pick up their friend.

---

A/N: So i just wanted to say that I’ve had the hair cutting scene planned from the beginning, I just was waiting for the right time to place it. her hair is cut now. and the fire nation is dropped. and now all i have to say is: IT’S IN THE NEXT CHAPTER. IT. IS. IN. THE. NEXT. CHAPTER

taglist: @myexgirlfriendisthemoon @reclusive-chicken-nugget @astroninaaa @aangsupremacy @beifongsss @crownofcryptids @welovediaaxx @littlefluu @lozzybowe @thebluelcdy @ohjustlookalive @sugarmoongey @fanficdepot @teenbiology @13-09-01 @riespage @davnwillcome @naanlianid @creation-magician @lunariasilver @vintagerose1014516 @bcifcng @rockinearthbending-marauders @francesciak @thia-aep @aphrcditeee @milk-n-cheese @solarsuki @sendnuwudes @humbleseame @my--shitty--art @lovingcupcake51002 @loganrwebb @celia-not-cecilia @treestarrrrrrrr @p--e--a--c--h--e--s @velveteencurls @izzieserra @oddment-nitwit-blubber-tweak @salsasadd @nataliahaslosthershit @awkwardnesshabitat @lanie103 @emogril @im-the-galactic-starfish​ @charlotteisabella​ @alienmotel​

#atla #sokka x reader #sokka x you #sokka x y/n #sokka #katara #zuko #aang #toph beifong #azula #mai #ty lee #avatar the last airbender #avatar: the last airbender #avatar #avatar resurgence #avatar fic #atla fics #avatar renaissance

[last-operator-standing]

Toll Of The Bell

Chapter 3 - Sonder

> Read on Ao3

> Chapter 1 (tumblr)

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> Chapter 4 (tumblr)

Summary: What now? He could roll over and accept the fate thrust upon him and die as Adler intended. Starting a new life away from it all couldn’t be that bad either. Or…

Or he could finish the mission.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Warning apply this chapter

Words: 1.8k (7.3k total)

A/N: I'm sorry this one took so long asjdfjf I'm awful at keeping any sort of regular schedule- but i'm going to be trying much harder to keep the chapters flowing :') I'd love to hear any thoughts, and thank you all for the support <3 (p.s. Adler will be here v soon- Promise uwu)

"Please stop staring at me."

Bell has no intention of doing so. He's been staring down Lazar from the moment the man stumbled into the kitchen to join him at the table. The sunlight is harsh despite the closed curtains and the coffee fails to stimulate either agent's mind. This certainly isn't Lazar's ideal morning. The silence stretches on, but the uncomfortable feeling of Bell's eyes on him has him sighing loudly.

"Damn, Bell, alright." Lazar gives in. The chair scrapes loudly against the tile floor as he pushes back to stand, disappearing for a moment and returning with a bag. It piques Bell's curiosity; he was too tired to notice it last night.

A folder slaps loudly against the table and slides a few centimeters towards Bell. The Russian, unable to contain himself, surges forward to snatch it. "You're right about your buddy. Definitely a smuggler of sorts."

Bell flips the folder open and begins rooting through the contents. A picture of Kapano Vang is clipped on the inside. The first page has basic information. Name, call sign, date and place of birth. Bell's more interested in the finer details: A few suspected routes, potential cartel members, a list of what they believe is being smuggled. There's a few recurring words that catch his eye. Golden Triangle Cartel is scribbled at the bottom and underlined twice. Beside it, drawn in bold red ink and circled multiple times, Bell reads PERSEUS?

"What did you see yesterday, in those memories of yours?"

Bell gives a small shake of his head. "It was a bar, I think. He was there." He taps the portrait with a finger. "And someone else who knew us but.. I couldn't remember his face," The Russian gives a disappointed click of his tongue. "Or his name."

Lazar tries to offer a reassuring smile. "Hey, don't sweat it. It'll come back to you."

Bell wishes he could share in Lazar's positivity. He really does. But he can't be sure what brought the memories to him in the first place, or why they were so fragmented. After spending much of the night agonizing over any additional detail he might remember about Perseus or Kapano Vang or anyone else he had seen at that bar and coming up short, Bell's hope started to slip. In the end he could only point fingers at Adler and his MK-Ultra project. "So what's next?"

Lazar doesn't answer right away. He looks thoughtful. Even with their revelation on Kapano Vang and his cartel, they are nowhere closer to finding Perseus than they were before. They are back to square one.

"Well, I could try cross-referencing with MI6 again-" he means Park, Bell thinks with a snort "-and see if they have anything new."

Lazar's looking at him intently and Bell realizes he's waiting for a response. "Oh, uh. Yeah." Bell shifts awkwardly in his seat. "Whatever you say."

A week later, the two man team have no progress to show for their efforts. In that time, Bell's gone over the files at least a dozen and a half times and nothing's changed, nor have any new memories resurfaced. Lazar's cross-referencing has yet to unearth anything new either, telling Bell MI6 is just in the dark as they are.

"This isn't working, Laz." Bell slams the paper back against the kitchen table. His irritation is reflected in the other man's face but Lazar does a better job at hiding it. "We just have to keep looking," Lazar sighs. "We have the answer here somewhere."

Bell clicks his tongue in disapproval. "I've been over these files again and again. There's nothing here. We're not going to find Perseus on some piece of paper-" An idea strikes Bell. Something he never considered before now.

"Bell?" Lazar frowns. "You alright?"

"What if we look for that bar?" Excitement shines in Bell's eyes. Lazar's startled by his suggestion.

"I don't know-"

"C'mon, Laz, think about it. There was more than one Perseus agent there, in my memory." A plan was beginning to hatch in Bell's mind. From the way he's looking at him, Lazar doesn't like where he's going with it. "If we find that bar, maybe we can find one of those agents. Maybe even match some of these faces." He looks down at the file of unconfirmed but suspected Perseus soldiers.

"I don't know about this," Lazar repeats slowly, uncertainly. "If someone recognizes us it could cause some trouble. Especially if they recognize you. You helped stop Perseus the first time. No doubt his people are painfully aware of that."

Bell doesn't want to hear it, though. "It's just a risk we'll have to take," he argues. "I'm a spy, Laz. I know how to keep my head down."

After a bit of back and forth it's settled. First, they'll compile a list of bars in areas known or suspected to be frequented by Perseus. Then, while in constant contact, as Lazar insists, Bell will make his way through each alone and hope nobody recognizes him while he searches for the bar from his memory.

It takes two days to assemble a full list and another day and a half to narrow it down and map a route.

"I'm still not happy about this," Lazar grunts as he drops a duffel bag onto the table. Bell eagerly snatches it and begins shuffling inside. "You worry too much, old man."

The first thing Bell pulls from the bag is a change of clothes. They both agreed he needs something casual. And clean. It would make blending in with the crowd much easier. Too excited about the upcoming mission has Bell stripping where he stands. No time for modesty.

"C'mon, Bell, in the kitchen?" Lazar turns with a light pink tinting his face. Bell grins wide but doesn’t reply. The new outfit fits comfortably. He returns to the bag and roots around for his next prize. There’s a knife with a sheath and a small handgun waiting at the bottom. The knife is removed first. Bell carefully slides it free of its sheath. The blade is unusually slim and dark in color, and sports a dangerously sharp tip with partial serration of both sides near the hilt. Bell’s entirely absorbed in admiring the blade, so much so that he misses Lazar’s amused look until he speaks up.

“I thought you’d like that one.”

Bell returns the smile. “Oh, hell yeah. It reminds me of the one I had in-”

“Hey, Sims! You know reading that shit’s gonna make you go blind.”

“Yep! That’s why I want it alll up here.” Sims shot Adler a lazy grin. The commander slapped the book back against Sims’ chest.

“Bell, you’re with Sims. You usually bring out the best in each other.”

“RPGS! BRACE! BRACE!”

Bell watched in horror as a rocket collided with the chopper beside theirs. It careened dangerously before smashing into theirs, sending their own bird into a death spiral.

Everything was in chaos.

“Grab my hand! I gotcha! I got-!”

“We’ve lost power-!”

“We’re going down-!”

“BRACE!”

Bell blinks hard and his smile falls. There’s a knowing look on Lazar’s face and neither agent speaks a word about it. “C’mon,” Lazar gives a pat to Bell’s shoulder. “Showtime.”

The pair ride in silence. Lazar’s behind the wheel, giving Bell some time to think. He tries to keep the mission center focus, but the memories of Vietnam are overwhelming, fresh in his mind as if they just happened. And they’re not even real. I was never in Vietnam.

The car rolls to a stop and breaks Bell from his thoughts. “Alright, remember, coms on at all times.” Bell rolls his eyes and pops the door, deftly sliding from his seat. “I mean it, Bell!” But he slams the door without reply, turning towards the street. The small earpiece is already safely pressed into his ear and hidden behind his hair.

The checkered brick sidewalks stretch wide on either side of the street. There’s a decent amount of people strolling to and fro, some carrying briefcases and dressed in neatly pressed suits, others in casual attire with seemingly no important place to be. Lazar pulls off, leaving Bell to head for the first destination on his list.

The first thing Bell notices as he pushes into the first bar is the pungent mingling of smoke, alcohol, and sweat in the air. The floor beneath his boots is a glossy hardwood and matches the light oaken walls. The occupants chatter noisily, and although the sound is familiar, the atmosphere is not. This is not the right place. Keeping his appearance as casual as possible, Bell slips through the crowd and retreats out the back door. He glances around to confirm he’s alone before mumbling his findings to Lazar.

One down, seven more to go.

The second bar Bell stumbles into is smaller. There are less individuals milling around and the golden walls are all wrong from the dark cedar panels from his memory. The third bar is even less promising, while the fourth and fifth are so far from Bell’s memory that he’s positive he’s working backwards now.

Bell rejoins the thinning herd on the streets with a dejected sigh. This wasn’t working out. There’s two more bars to check and already it was getting dark. He’d hope for something; A clue, a new memory, a familiar face. Lazar keeps up with words of encouragement but Bell doesn’t have the capacity to share the optimism.

The sixth bar Bell checks holds a notable hushed atmosphere. Right away he’s stricken by the dark atmosphere. It felt.. Tense. Insidious. It doesn’t feel right, but for an entirely different reason. While most of the denizens ignore Bell, a few side-eye him dangerously. He steps to the counter and orders a drink, primarily to alleviate any suspicions from both inside and out.

Bell can’t shake the feeling of eyes boring into his back. It’s somehow different from when he first walked in and was certainly making him more uncomfortable. He shifts in his seat and tries his best to nonchalantly turn and find who the hell was staring at him so hard, but when he looks, he finds nothing out of the ordinary.

The feeling of unease doesn’t leave. He grows antsy and finally after paying with money given to him by Lazar, Bell downs the last of his drink and turns back into the streets. This is certainly not going the way Bell had hoped. The seventh bar is quite the walk from the sixth, allowing him some time to breathe and collect his thoughts.

The feeling of unease melts from Bell’s shoulders the longer he walks. Lazar’s quiet so he turns his attention outward and listens curiously to the broken chatter of the dwindling civilians.

“-think he talks about anything else?”

“Well, it’s not like-”

“Timur?”

“That’s not.. Point.. Why else-”

“Timur!”

“I just think you should consider-”

A hand lands heavily on Bell’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. He turns in surprise.

“Timur!” A man stands before Bell with a lazy smirk and a gleam to his eyes- as if he recognizes him. His dark hair is cropped close to his head and a pair of lightly tinted shades adorns his face. The accent is certainly not Russian, and it throws Bell off guard. “Hey! Remember me?”

#cod cold war #black ops cold war #russell adler #cod bell #male bell #bocw #lazar azoulay #fanfic #can you guess who he ran in to? #i tried v hard to put some features without making it obvious who it was-

[bitchloveskcbaseball]

You Left My Heart on the Floor

Pairing: Bryce x MC

Warnings: A bit of language. Character Death. I don’t think I put anything that outright mentions the attack, but this is taking place when M/C is quarantined in the room during the aftermath.

A/N #1: Sooooo... This is a follow up to Bar Trouble that is set during the book 2 attack with an unfortunate alternate ending. And it is not a happy one. Also this isn’t heavily edited, so please excuse any mistakes.

A/N #2: Name for this comes from Carly Pearce's Every Little Thing

A/N #3: I didn’t want to forcibly subject anyone to this, so I’m not tagging anyone on this.

Bryce barely took the time required to scrub out of surgery before rushing off through the corridors. He never even really saw any of the staff he passed or heard any of the comments that were floating about as he ran past. The only thing he could focus on was getting to Casey before it was too late. He had to get there before it was too late.

He didn’t even remember flying over the flights of stairs that took him to the cordoned-off floor. Barely registered brushing past all of the various personnel that were trying to keep him from entering. His first cognizant thought after handing Kyra’s surgery over to Tanaka didn’t come until he was standing in front of the window, staring into a room that looked like it had come straight out of some psycho-horror film. The entire room was covered in plastic, an extra cot was set up but had yet to be touched, all while countless figures were milling about just outside of a decontamination chamber in hazmat suits. But, despite all the commotion, the only thing that Bryce saw was her. Her face was paler than he’d ever seen before, a marked contrast to the deep, dark circles under her eyes. Her lips were almost ashen and even from across the room, he could see the way her body was trembling. Her normally bright, green eyes were so dull they were almost completely devoid of color. Yet through it all, he could tell, without even hearing her words, that she was doing everything she could to make sure that Rafael was comfortable. Every single thing about the scene chiseled pieces of his heart away.

Then, suddenly, Casey was looking up directly into his eyes. For the first time in months. And it literally stole his breath away. But there was no relief for either of them. Her expression had quickly morphed into disbelief and Bryce was hit with the full force of everything that had happened between them.

“What are you doing here?” Even through the hostility in her tone, he could hear the weakness of her voice.

“You… I heard you were in trouble.”

“So?”

Bryce stumbled back with the force of the word as if he’s been physically struck. “I needed to see you. To check on you.”

“Shouldn’t you still be in surgery?”

“Inez called Tanaka and he took over for me. Kyra’s in the next best possible hands.”

Casey let out a harsh scoff. “Seriously, Bryce? I’ve asked you for only one goddamn thing in the past six fucking months. To get Kyra through this surgery. And you couldn’t even do that?”

“Casey – “

“Forget it. You’ve seen me. Now you can go. I’m sure your girlfriend is probably worried about you by now. You shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

Bryce sucked in a sharp breath. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he’d come running, but this sure wasn’t it. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed the way her eyes followed him whenever they were in the same room. The glares she’d shoot in his direction when Amber was with him.

He liked Amber well enough, but, as terrible as it sounds, he only kept her around to make Casey jealous. To help distract him until Casey finally figured out what the hell it was that she wanted. Until Casey figured out that she was meant to be with him. But here they were months later and nothing had changed.

Except everything had changed. Because she could very well be dying. And he’d wasted so much time trying to play head games with her. Trying to get back at her for how she’d made him feel when she’d pushed him away.

Now, he realized, as he saw the flash of emotions through her eyes, he had done too good of a job at convincing her that he had moved on. Casey was never going to believe anything that he had to say, anything he desperately needed to say. Not that he could blame her. Why would she believe that he still loved her when he’d done everything possible to make sure she’d seen him all wrapped up with Amber any chance he got?

Dropping his head to stare at his shoes, he muttered, “I, uh… I won’t be far. Just in case you, uh, you need something. Okay?”

“Whatever.”

Without looking up, he turned on his heel and found his way into one of the evacuated rooms down the hall. Settling himself into corner of the room that butted up against the hallway so that he wouldn’t be seen through the crack in the door, he sank down until his face was buried against his knees. He’d never felt so helpless in his entire life. The one person who meant anything to him in this entire world was stuck in a room with some mystery substance threatening to take her away for good. He wanted nothing more than to be there for her, supporting her in every way possible, but she didn’t want that from him.

He couldn’t stand to be any further away from her than he currently was, though, so he hid out in the room throughout the night. He gradually inched closer to the door, in order to pick up on the pieces of conversation taking place in the hallway. Knowing that Ramsey and the diagnostics team were on the case had helped to ease some of his fears. That was, until he heard them telling her what had been in the can. Until he heard the words he’d been dreading for hours. “There is no cure.”

His entire world stopped. He couldn’t drag air into his lungs. He couldn’t see the light shining through the door opening. He couldn’t even smell the thick odor of disinfectant that permeated the air.

I’m going to lose her. No. Stop that, Bryce. They are going to figure this out. The brightest medical minds in the world are working on her case. They will fix this.

Still, he couldn’t shake the iron grip of fear around his heart. It took far longer than it should have for him to push himself to his feet. Even longer to actually figure out how to move them towards her room. This time, he was painfully aware of all the gazes falling on him as he trekked towards his destination. He couldn’t miss the pitiful, knowing looks he was receiving.

When he was once again standing in front of her window, he realized that she was now all alone in the room and his heart squeezed even harder. She was wobbling precariously as she seemed to be attempting to pace across the room. It took every ounce of self-control he’d ever possessed to not run into the room and haul her into his arms.

“Casey?”

Her movements were incredibly disjointed as she swiveled around to face him and her face was knotted up in confusion.

“Bryce?”

“Yeah. It’s me.”

“What ar – “ a violent coughing fit overtook her and very nearly brought her to her knees.

“Hey. Why, uh, why don’t you go sit on the bed for a minute, Case?”

“Can’t. Have to keep moving. Can’t solve this if I fall asleep.”

“You don’t have to solve this at all. You’ve got the best team of doctors ever working on this. Your only job is to preserve your strength.”

“Don’t… don’t tell me what to do, Bryce.”

“I’m just – “

“Well don’t. I’ve been doing just – “ Casey blanched, stumbling over to a waste bin next to her cot just before the retching started.

Bryce’s fingers itched to hold her, to pull her hair back out of her way, to hold a cool washcloth to her face. Anything to bring her some semblance of comfort. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted an extra hazmat suit, and a glimmer of hope bloomed within his chest.

“Hey, Case. There’s an extra suit out here. If you want, I can put it on and come keep you company.”

“No.” The strength behind the word was reassuring even as it cut straight to his heart.

“What?”

“You moved on. You have your … girlfriend and I’m sure she wouldn’t be pleased to find out you’d entered a contamination zone for your ex. And I … I don’t want you here. I’m just fine on my own.”

“But – “

“I said no. Now just… go home, Bryce. Just go home.”

Shocked and heartbroken, he stared at her back for several long moments before he finally was able to tear himself away from the window. He retreated back to his hiding place, unable to argue with her wishes but also unable to leave her completely. He needed to be near in case she needed something. In case she needed him.

What could have been an hour later or maybe five, he honestly didn’t know, Bryce was broken out of his contemplative misery by a commotion in the hall. He listened intently for any sort of hope or happiness amongst the chaos, but instead only heard words that had his blood running cold.

“She’s coding!”

He didn’t even remember moving, but suddenly found himself standing outside her window yet again. His face was pressed up to it as tightly as was possible, fingernails scratching at the glass. Please save her. Please don’t let her die. Whether it was a plea or a prayer, he honestly didn’t know, but he kept repeating it in his mind over and over as he watched the team of doctors trying to restore her heart rhythm as time ceased to exist.

Seemingly without warning, everyone stopped and a silence punctuated only by the harsh, flat tone of the heart monitor settled over the room.

#bryce x mc #bryce lahela x mc #tw: character death #cw: character death

[manunelle]

Black

Part 1: Red

Synopsis:

I am sure that she does not want to see me.”

He stared at the basket, contemplating the idea of decorating it with a ribbon. Maybe it would make her happy? But...What was her favorite color? 

“And why not?” 

“Because she doesn’t…Because I don’t…”

Why not? 

I started writing the second part of Red soon after I finished it, but I never had the time to finish it. I found it on my cellphone and decided to finish it. It’s supposed to be a three chapter fanfiction, so look foward a part 3! 

I hope you guys enjoy it! 

TW: Mention of prostitution and prejudice towards disabled people. 

Blanc left the room, trying to hide his tiredness and shock. He raised his head slowly, staring at the two brothers with a gaze that showed many emotions- among them, disappointment.

“Is she asleep?” Jonah asked, anxiously tightening the package he held between his hands. 

Luka observed him quickly, straightening his back in an attempt to show firmness. He could’ve managed it, if it weren’t for his shaking hands. 

“Yes, she just dozed off. Oliver is inside there with her, so there’s nothing to worry about.” He took his glasses off his face, wiping them delicately with a handkerchief. “Anything else?”

Luka and Jonah looked at each other, unsure of what to say. 

During a whole month, The Black and Red armies discussed the Alice case. Lancelot had made it clear that the girl would stay with the Red Army, returning to the Land of Reason as soon as the full moon reached the sky. Obviously, Ray and his companions went against this idea, demanding that the young woman was put under the care of the Black Army. Only when Blanc and Oliver interfered on the matter that it was decided that Alice would stay with them, on neutral ground. 

Nobody asked her anything. Actually, since the incident, no word left her lips. Kyle and Jonah tried to cheer her up with motivational speeches and pastries brought from town, Fenrir and Seth did their best to try to coach laughs from her, but, in any cases, no emotion appeared on her face. She only stared at them with an empty gaze, her pink lips pressed in a tight line. Just like a doll.

“Won’t you guys need help?” Jonah asked, bringing Luka back to the present. “I-I can send one of my men to help. Or I could!” Luka felt surprise run through his body; never in his life had he seen Jonah act in such a way. 

“No, no. It won’t be necessary.”

“But won’t you need to carry her? To bath her, dress her, and even to take her on walks….Won’t it be too much for you two?” He looked nervously at Luka, as if demanding support from him. “We two can help!” 

Normally, Luka would be angry for being involved without being consulted before, but, at that moment, he only agreed with Jonah, nodding quickly. He would do anything to help. 

“It won’t be necessary.” Blanc laughed, a fake laugh. “This old man still has some strength on his body. And Oliver will be here to help me...Everything will be okay.” Suddenly, his smile disappeared, a serious expression forming on his face. “So, you two need to go. I am sure that, for now, the young lady needs distance from anyone that is involved with both armies.”

Oh. 

Luka nodded robotically, cold sweat running down his nape. He turned his back to his brother and the record keeper, walking slowly towards the door. 

“I-I-” He heard Jonah clearing his throat, trying to pretend that his stutter was nothing but an itch on his throat. “I brought this for her...Hah, I don’t even know if she likes it.”

Luka heard the noise of the package being passed to Blanc, but he didn’t turn back to see what it was. When he was in front of the door, Blanc answered calmly. 

“I am sure that she will enjoy the Mille Feule, Jonah.”

Hah. 

How ridiculous. 

…………

Another full moon had passed, and Alice was still in Cradle. 

Luka did not know her true name, nor her age, or what she liked to do and not even if she wanted to stay in wonderland. He hadn’t visited her since she started living with the White Rabbit, feeling intimidated by the disappointed look on Blanc’s face and by Oliver’s insults and, above all, the empty look of the woman. 

Fenrir and Seth visited the record keeper’s house every day- always without their army uniforms. Sometimes, Ray accompanied them, and even Sirius joined them once, taking flowers and desserts to try to raise her spirits. 

He heard from Sirius that Kyle and Zero also visited her regularly, the first to check on her condition, and the second to help Blanc and Oliver on her time outside, guiding her wheelchair (a gift from Oliver) around calm places, with few people around. God, even Jonah went to visit the foreign woman. Fenrir had told him that there were many times that they arrived at the residence and found the Queen of Hearts and Alice chatting calmly and sharing pastries that she could not eat alone. 

Even if knew all this, Luka didn’t have the courage to visit Alice. Every night he repeated to himself that he would visit her tomorrow, that tomorrow would be the day that he would apologize to her. But, every single morning, he’d hide between excuses to not fulfill his promises. 

He really was a pathetic person. 

………

“You should come too.” Sirius said, a serious look, almost disapproving, on his face. “It’s the least you can do for her.” 

Luka sighed, putting some Cinnamon Rolls that he had baked this morning on a basket. 

“I am sure that she does not want to see me.”

He stared at the basket, contemplating the idea of decorating it with a ribbon. Maybe it would make her happy? But...What was her favorite color? 

“And why not?” 

“Because she doesn’t…Because I don’t…”

Why not? 

He looked away from Sirius’ eyes, trying to escape from the judgement and disappointment that only existed on his head. Shoving the basket full of pastries and fruits at Sirius' arms, Luka left the kitchen, ignoring Sirius' attempt of calling him back. 

Why not? 

………

Luka only visited Blanc’s house six months later. A month before, they had finally discovered the whole truth about Lancelot and Amon, joining forces and defeating the ill-intent man. Now, both armies were busy with dealing with the aftermaths of the war, working together to reconstruct their country and look after it. 

However, because everybody was so busy, no one had time to visit the young lady that came from the land above. 

Yes, she was still there. 

After half a year. 

Why? 

To be honest, he didn’t want to come, but when neither Sirius’ pleas nor Jonah’s invitations convinced him, Ray just used his position as his King and ordered him to pay a visit to the record keeper. So, of course, he was obliged to obey. 

Deep down, he was kind of glad that Ray had done it. He finally had a reason to go see the woman. To apologize. 

But why was he so scared? So nervous? 

Finally reaching the house, he knocked on the door softly, hoping that neither Blanc nor Oliver would hear it. Unfortunately, the door swung open, a familiar small boy glaring at him. 

“Hello, Oliver.” 

“Hello, Oliver.” He imitated, mocking him. He crossed his arms, still glaring at Luka as if he was some kind of bug. “Are you going to stay there the whole day or tell me what you want? I don’t have all day, y’know.” 

“Hm, Ray asked me to drop this.” He raised the box of homemade cupcakes, showing it to Oliver. “And to check if you guys aren’t having any difficulties with...with…” 

“With?” Oliver narrowed his eyes, his glare intensifying. 

Luka gulped, squeezing the box with his gloved fingers. 

Before he could continue, the record keeper appeared, smiling brightly when he saw Luka. 

“And here I was wondering what was taking Oliver so long…” He said, patting the boy’s head. Oliver slapped him away, outraged. “Hello, Luka. It’s been a long time, huh?” 

“Yes.” He answered, simply. 

Blanc’s smile widened. 

“Please, enter! It’s almost tea time.” 

He did as he was asked, handing the cupcakes to Blanc, who thanked him and left him sitting in front of the tea table. Oliver had gone back to whatever he was doing before, so now he was all alone. 

He kept looking around anxiously, looking for a sign of her existence, be it an object of her person itself. Blanc entered the room, carrying a steaming teapot. 

“Is earl grey to your taste?” He asked, and Luka nodded quietly. Blanc smiled, filling his cup with the delicious-smelling liquid. “I’ll be back in a minute.” 

He raised the cup to his lips, eyeing Blanc with expectation. Would he bring her in the room? Would she have tea with them? Would they talk? 

Would he finally be able to apologize? 

However, instead of Alice, Blanc brought a tray of cookies and the homemade cupcakes that Luka had baked, setting it on the table. 

“Oliver, come and join us!” He shouted, and Luka almost protested. Blanc turned his attention back to him, moving his own cup towards his lips. “And how have you been, Luka?” 

“Fine.” 

“Is everything alright at the army? Have they been treating you well?” Oliver entered the room, sitting on the chair next to Blanc. He glared at Luka, not stopping even when Blanc elbowed him on the arm. 

“Yes, everyone’s really kind.” He said, sipping the warm tea. “Ray and Fenrir sent their regards.” 

“Oh, how kind of them.” Blanc said, snatching a cookie from the tray and munching on it. 

Calmly, Luka set his cup on the saucer. Feeling his heart jumping desperately on his chest, he moved his gaze to Blanc, who quirked both eyebrows, surprised.

“What is it, Lu-

“Blanc-san, how is...How is…” He really wanted to ask it, he really wanted to. But he had no idea what her name was, and calling her Alice sounded so very wrong. “How is she?” He finally asked, his hands trembling on his lap. 

Blanc smiled softly, understanding the cause of his nervosism. He stopped chewing on the cookie, setting it beside his cup. 

“Do not worry, young lad.” He comforted Luka, Oliver scoffing at his side. “She is much better, that I can assure you.”

“Oh, yes, much better.” Oliver mocked, receiving a side-eyed glare from Blanc. 

“Better than when she arrived, Oliver.” 

“Right, at least now she talks to us, huh?” He sneered, and Luka winced. The disgust and outrage was clear on his voice. “Now she’s more docile, right? Now she doesn’t act like a freak, so that’s good, huh? Now she can go back to that good for nothing land as if nothing happened, right? Everything will be the same, huh? That’s what you guys have been telling her since it happened, so of course it’s the truth.”

Luka lowered his gaze, ashamed.

Oliver raised himself from his chair, the object falling on the floor. 

“Of course that’s bullshit!” He shouted, his fist connecting with the table and making the other two jump. “Of course that’s not true! There’s no way that she can go back to her life. She will be treated like a freak! She won’t be able to work, no one will want to job a legless woman. She has no family up there, so there’s no one that can provide and take care of her! In the end, the only job that she will be able to take is at night-

“Oliver, that’s enough!” Blanc shouted back, also rising from his chair. They glared at each other, Blanc with an intimidating look and Oliver out of breath. “Do you want her to hear you?” He hissed, and Oliver hid his face behind one hand, as if realizing what he had just done. 

The two sat back, a horrible silence taking the room. 

Luka knew nothing about the Land of Reason. He wasn’t close to Oliver, and he never had a conversation with the woman to know what kind of place they came from. However, a country that didn’t care about their people was not what he expected. Actually, it was far from it. 

Blanc sighed, smiling fakely at Luka. 

“Luka, please inform the King of Spades that young Charlotte will be staying with us permanently.” He said, sipping the tea that was probably cold by now. “We’ll also inform the King of Hearts about it.”

He nodded, only to show that he had heard what Blanc said. 

“Please, don’t make that face.” 

He nodded again, placing both hands on the table and rising from the chair. 

“Hm, I think I should go.”

“What? So soon? Please, stay a bit more.” 

“No...I have some things to attend to. I was just passing by.” 

Oliver and Blanc looked at each other, seeing through his lie. 

“But...don’t you want to see her?” Blanc asked, and Luka’s heart jumped. “She’s upstairs, napping. But she’s probably awake by now...I’m sure she would enjoy your company.”

He looked back at Blanc, shaking. The man smiled gently, but Luka averted his gaze again, closing his hand into fists. 

“No. I really need to go.” 

Silence. 

“Oh. Okay.” He said, simply, disappointment clear on his voice. 

He guided Luka to the door, seeing him off. 

Only when he reached the gates of the Black Army that he felt the tears starting to stream through his face. Sirius saw him from a distance, running towards him when he fell on his hands and knees, an animalistic sob leaving his lips. 

He really was a coward. 

A coward. 

#ikemen revolution #ikerev #fanfiction #cybird #my writing #Black #Red #please read the warnings

[chipper9906]

Heal The Cracks Within My Heart - Chapter 6: No More Tricks

<- - - Previous Chapter

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR LOKI SEASON 1 EPISODE 6 ‘FOR ALL TIME. ALWAYS.’

Pairings: Loki/Sylvie

Rating: General Audiences

Chapter Word Count: 8,958

Overall Word Count: 57,236

Status: Multi Chapter Fic - In Progress (6/?)

Chapter Preview:

“Good to meet y’all,” Miss Minutes said with that unnerving smile, walking – but not really – across Mobius’s desk and over to Loki and Sylvie. “I’m sure you can’t wait to get to work protecting the sacred timeline!”

“Oh, simply ecstatic,” Loki said with as much sarcasm as he could fit into one sentence. “Something to finally give my pathetic life some meaning. How about you, Sylvie?”

“Like a dream come true…” Sylvie drawled.

“Great to hear!” This Miss Minutes was, apparently, incapable of picking up sarcasm.

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* * *

One of the (few) good things about the sprawling size of the TVA was that there were often parts of it with no one in sight. It was on one of these floors, where the files hadn’t been disturbed for so long that they were collecting dust, that the Gods of Fate had smiled upon them and opened up the Time-Door into. 

Mobius’s head was the first to peek through the Time-Door, looking both left and right down the miniature hallway. Once he had confirmed there was no one that had seen the Time-Door manifesting from nowhere, he waved both Loki and Sylvie through, before stepping fully back into his place of work. 

“This feels so wrong,” Sylvie complains as they walk, tugging at the restricting dress shirt around her neck. Loki regards her from the corner of his eye, scanning up and down her body as he takes in her new uniform. 

“It is a little weird seeing you without your armor.” Loki reaches out to tug at the lapels of her TVA blazer, grinning unabashedly when she smacks his hand away with a weak glare. “–But for the record, I think you look stunning whatever you choose to wear.”

“Oh dear God,” Mobius groaned dramatically in front of them, forcing Loki and Sylvie’s gaze away from each other and over to him. “Is your plan to just constantly flirt with each other to get me to find these files faster? Coz I’ve gotta say, it’s working.”

“It almost sounds like you’re eager to be rid of us,” Loki said, sounding almost offended. Almost. 

“You’re both probably bearable on your own, but the two of you together?” Mobius shook his head. “Nightmares, the both of you. An insane amount of people exist out there in the Universe – now made even bigger with this whole mess you’ve made – countless amounts of variants you could have run into, but no, you had to go and find versions of yourself and hook up with them!”

“First of all, are you telling me you aren't a little bit curious to know what another variant of yourself would be like?” Sylvie asked, bringing Mobius to a grinding halt and turning to face them.

“No, actually. I'm not,” Mobius said in disbelief at her question. “I could have happily gone on with the rest of my life without ever thinking that, thank you. And now I know I won’t be able to stop thinking about it.”

“Give it a try,” Sylvie said, throwing a wink in Loki’s direction that nearly made Mobius groan out loud again. “And secondly… no one understands you better than yourself. We have our similarities – a few Loki traits that seem to stick no matter what form we take – but… we’ve both walked different paths. Genetically different, souls the same; but whilst they were formed the same, they’ve been molded by our experiences. So, whilst we may not see things the same way sometimes, at the end of the day, we just…”

“Understand each other,” Loki finishes for Sylvie with a tender smile. 

“God, it really is like puppy love,” Mobius mumbled as he turned back around and continued onwards. “Feels like I’m watching a couple of teens trying to figure out how feelings work…”

“That’s… an apt comparison, actually,” Loki admitted as they both picked up the pace to keep up with Mobius, not wanting to get lost in the maze of TVA corridors. It was only occasionally that they walked through a section with a worker milling about the place, or saw an occasional Minute-Men either patrolling the area or simply passing through to wherever it is they had been ordered to go to. 

“Things seem calmer than last time,” Loki noted. He wasn’t sure whether it was good or bad that the TVA wasn’t still freaking out about the whole multi-versal situation they had on their hands. Every now and then, as they passed through different corridors, Loki would see a flash of that horrific statue proudly displaying 'Him' as he stood over all his subjects. At least they knew now that Sylvie’s guess of being able to select a previously opened Time-Door and return them to the same TVA was correct…

“Things seem empty,” Mobius corrected him. “This place is usually bustling with activity -- and now it’s a ghost town. If we’ve dispatched most of our workers out into the field, then…” Mobius sighed deeply. “Things can’t be doing too well…”

Mobius came to a sudden stop as they rounded a corner, nearly walking straight into a TVA worker who had also been rounding the corner. The man blinked in surprise at Mobius, not even registering Loki or Sylvie behind him. The man pushed his glasses back up his nose, frowning at Mobius before looking somewhere behind him. 

“Mobius? Where have you been? They’ve been looking everywhere for you, man. Judge Whittle’s about to blow a fuse if you don’t get down to his office stat.”

“Forgot I need to grab these guys,” Mobius lied smoothly, gesturing with a flick of his head back to Sylvie and Loki behind him. “They have some, uh… some research I asked them to collect for me that I think could be of some use.”

The man finally looked over to them, thankfully not looking too suspicious of them as his eyes darted between them both. “Right… Well, you better not keep Judge Whittle waiting. What with everything going on, I think he’s trying to hold onto some sense of time, and being late again might just snap his last thread.”

“That’s why I’m headed there now,” Mobius assured the man with a pat on his shoulder and a friendly smile. The man returned the smile, giving all three a respectful nod before walking past them and disappearing out of sight around another corridor. Mobius released a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, fixing his already tidy tie as a force of habit. 

“I have to say, you’re an excellent liar,” Loki commended Mobius. “Are you sure you’re not a variant of us, too?”

“God, I hope not,” Mobius retorted, continuing to lead them forward once more. 

“Wait, hang on-,” Sylvie said, tugging at Mobius’s arm. “Did he say Judge Whittle?”

Mobius looked back to Sylvie with a confused frown. “…Yes?”

“What about Judge Renslayer? What happened to her?”

Mobius stopped outside of a stereotypical-looking office door, pausing with his hand on the door handle. “Judge who?”

Both Sylvie and Loki shared a look of surprise, strangely unsettled by the idea that Renslayer apparently didn't exist in this timeline. Or, at least, hadn't been taken from her life to work in the TVA. What other changes would they have to expect to come across in this timeline? And how much of an effect would each small change have?

"Doesn't matter," Sylvie told Mobius. "Just... someone we know from another timeline."

"And by 'know', do you mean 'have killed', or...?"

"Us personally? No," Loki answered. "But last we saw you — the other you — you were headed back to the TVA to give Renslayer our regards, so... we don't actually know what happened to her."

“Given my fighting skills? Nothing, probably,” Mobius guessed, yanking down on the handle and swinging the door open. It was only once Mobius had stepped inside and out of the way of the door that Loki noticed the little golden plaque attached under the little window, the name ‘M. Mobius’ etched into the metal. 

“Come on. I don’t know how much time we have,” Mobius called them into the office. “Considering I’m expected in Whittle’s office, we probably don’t have long until someone comes to fetch me.”

“You have an office?” Loki said in surprise, stepping into the room with Sylvie close behind. 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

“The you I know never took me to his office,” Loki replied, glancing around the small space that had been allocated to Mobius. It looked… well, like everything else in the TVA, really: neat and organized, drab and boring; painted with soul-sucking colors that, at this point, reminded him of a prison. 

“Maybe he didn’t have one.” Mobius dropped down onto a squeaky office chair, fiddling around with the buttons on one of those ridiculously bulky-looking computer monitors until it whirred to life. “I can’t imagine every variant of myself is good enough at their job for—” 

“He was just fine at doing his job, actually,” Loki was quick to defend Mobius. Which was quite strange, as he was defending Mobius to… Mobius. “Managed to out-lie me a few times, which I can assure you is a tricky thing to do.”

“He was the only one of your bumbling workforce that was able to keep hot on my tail,” Sylvie joined Loki in defending Mobius, much to Loki’s surprise and… a little bit herself, if she was being honest. “I was able to stay one step ahead of him until he roped this idiot in—” Sylvie jabbed a thumb in Loki's direction. “—And he led you right to me.”

“To try and recruit you.” Loki now had to defend himself. “I wasn’t exactly a volunteer worker; it was work with them or be reset.”

“And here comes the old couple bickering…” Mobius mumbled under his breath. Before either Loki or Sylvie could point out that, whilst technically over a thousand years old, they were still considered young by Asgardian standards, Mobius had opened up some sort of application that brought up some virtual files in a holographic display.

Much to both Sylvie and Loki’s displeasure, these files were also accompanied by the cheery bright orange face of Miss Minutes. Sylvie barely restrained herself from unsheathing her sword hidden beneath her blazer and slicing the southern-speaking mascot in half like she desperately wanted to do back in the Citadel. 

“Well, hey there!” Miss Minutes greeted them, sounding as chipper as ever. “Ooo, new faces! Do we have some new recruits, Mobius?”

“You could say that…” Mobius answered, brow pinched in concentration as he swiped through the seemingly endless amount of files in the TVA’s database. 

“Good to meet y’all,” Miss Minutes said with that unnerving smile, walking – but not really – across Mobius’s desk and over to Loki and Sylvie. “I’m sure you can’t wait to get to work protecting the sacred timeline!”

“Oh, simply ecstatic,” Loki said with as much sarcasm as he could fit into one sentence. “Something to finally give my pathetic life some meaning. How about you, Sylvie?”

“Like a dream come true…” Sylvie drawled. 

“Great to hear!” This Miss Minutes was, apparently, incapable of picking up sarcasm. “Is there something you needed my help with, Mobius?”

“Yeah, actually.” Mobius scratched across his upper lip, disheveling his neatly combed mustache. “I’m, uh… getting out new recruits up to speed with what they need to know about… about ‘Him’.”

“Have they had the talk yet?”

Loki wasn’t entirely sure why, but something about that question made him want to shiver off this layer of discomfort that seemed to coat him. At the same time, the last time someone had ‘the talk’ with him, he was unable to look his mother in the eyes for a good few days. 

Mobius’s eyes flickered up from the monitor to Miss Minutes. “Yeah, they’ve had the talk; they know why they’re here.”

“Well okay then!” Miss Minutes chirped, crossing her arms behind her back with a gleaming smile. “Anything in specific you need me to find?”

“Yeah, any files we have on His TemPad,” Mobius said, wheeling himself back a bit from the desk and yanking open one of the drawers. 

“Bit of an odd request,” Miss Minutes commented as she began flipping through the holographic files in front of them. Mobius continued digging through his desk, searching through different folders with a look of concentration. For a moment, Mobius’s hands stilled over something, but Miss Minutes' overexcited voice stole away their attention. 

“Alright, here we go!” Miss Minutes flicked the holographic file through the air, and both Loki and Sylvie wore matching frowns as it disappeared from sight. The question of where it had gone was answered as Mobius pulled his TemPad out from his desk drawer with an “Ah-Ha!” of success, proudly waving the TemPad in their direction. 

“Anything else you need me to do for you?” Miss Minutes asked, sounding both polite and… terrifying. 

“Uh, no -- this’ll do.” Mobius returned Miss Minute's politeness with a smile of his own – even if it did appear quite forced and strained. “Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome!” Miss Minutes said before disappearing in a weird move where she seemed to fold into herself, all three in the room thankful for her absence. 

“I never thought a cartoon clock mascot would make me fear for my life,” Loki said, still staring suspiciously at the space where Miss Minutes had vanished from.

“Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here…” Mobius muttered, fingers dancing across the TemPad as he brought up the files Miss Minutes had just sent him. His eyes scanned rapidly across the screen, skipping to what seemed to be the most important segments of information. 

“Interesting…” Mobius leaned forward against his desk, resting his head on his hand and tapping his index finger against his upper lip.

“What’s interesting?” Sylvie asked, not appreciating that she couldn’t see the information she needed, whilst knowing that it was right there in someone else’s hands. 

“Oh, just how vastly superior that thing on your hand is to this,” Mobius answered, waving his TemPad around like it was now useless. “For one, the efficiency on that thing? From what I’m seeing, it’s probably… four or five times more so than ours?”

“So, you’re saying that this TemPad can do more before it runs out of battery?” Loki asks, pointing to Sylvie’s hand. 

“Not that you even have to worry about that,” Mobius said with a disbelieving chuckle. “You noticed how that thing doesn’t have a port to charge it?”

Sylvie shot Mobius an annoyed look, crossing her arms across her chest. “Just how oblivious do you think I am?”

“Man, you guys really do find a way to turn people’s words into an insult against you,” Mobius noted, sounding almost amused by the revelation. “Is that a self-conscious thing, or…?”

Sylvie, on the other hand, did not look amused. “I’m good on the therapy session, thanks. You were saying about charging it?”

“Oh, au contraire -- I think therapy would be an excellent choice for you guys,” Mobius teased with a grin, which he quickly wiped off his face at the death stares he got in return. “Alright, alright. The thing about charging this TemPad is… well, that you don’t need to.”

“Come again?” Loki asked. 

“From the looks of things, His version of the TemPad kind of… recharges itself?” Mobius struggled to find the best way to explain what he had just read. “Well, not entirely from itself. The TemPad makes a connection, if you will, with its owner. Or… master, I think would be a better word.”

Sylvie raised her hand up closer to her face, peering down at the TemPad. Almost on cue did its surface come to life, emitting a soothing hum as power ran through its complicated circuits. 

“And… what does the connection do?” Sylvie asked, looking away from the TemPad back to Mobius. 

“It uses you as its batteries,” Mobius answers. “It recharges through you. Your life force, your energy, whatever you wanna call it.”

“Uh, should we be worried about that?” Loki asked, just barely resisting the urge to yank the TemPad off Sylvie’s hand and throw it as far as he could at the thought of it draining away her life. 

“Considering ‘He’ is still alive after eons of using it? No, I don’t think so,” Mobius assured them – although just barely. “At the end of the day, ‘He’ is human, just like us -- uh, well, me, anyway. Taking into account the fact that you guys are both demigods with access to magical powers, I’m pretty sure the TemPad will barely scratch the surface of your energy.”

“Then… how did it not affect ‘He Who Remains?’” Loki asked. “Something that needs that much energy… it has to take its toll.”

“Maybe you can ask him before you kill him,” Mobius suggests. “My best guess? ‘He’ probably needs to ‘recharge’ himself. You know: sleeping, eating; all that boring mortal stuff?”

“You say that like we don’t need to eat and sleep, too.” Sylvie retorts.

“Uh-huh. Still doesn’t change the fact that you’re gods. I mean, how old are you guys again?”

“Point taken,” Loki conceded on both their behalf. “How long does the TemPad take to charge, then?”

“Depends on how drained it is,” Mobius says, turning his attention back to the displayed file. “It’s charging all the time, so as long as you’re not opening up Time-Doors left, right, and center, it usually has enough power that you don’t even have to think about it. If you somehow do drain the power enough that it’s nearly empty then… from ‘His’ experiments, it seems it takes a day or so to get it back to full power.”

“Experiments?” Sylvie picked up on the word. “What kind of experiments?”

“Well, ‘He’ didn’t always spend his time behind a desk organizing the strands of time. Before he created us, it was just him out there -- jumping from timeline to timeline, trying to bring some semblance of peace and order to the chaos.”

“About that–,” Loki interjected. “–The whole ‘jumping from timeline to timeline’ thing... Did ‘He’ jump between those timelines randomly?”

“Uh…” Mobius turned back to his TemPad, scrolling through the block of information it displayed. “Seems like it, for the most part.”

“So there’s no way to select a specific timeline?” Loki asked, casting Sylvie a down-trodden look. “No way to find a specific timeline?”

“We weren’t exactly designed for that,” Mobius replied, flicking away the information on his TemPad. With a few more presses of his fingers, the screen of his TemPad displayed a diagram of the sacred timeline -- if it could even be called that anymore. What he showed them more closely resembled a plate of spaghetti than the single straight line of the timeline. “See this right here? This is exactly what we were supposed to stop. We weren’t meant to travel between timelines, because the very existence of another timeline outside ours means we failed at our jobs.”

“But that’s what it was like before the TVA was created,” Sylvie pointed out. “Somewhere in there is the timeline we came from. We just need to find it again and travel back to it.”

“What for?” Mobius asks. “Why’s your timeline so important?”

“It’s the sacred timeline,” Sylvie answered, quickly continuing when Mobius opened his mouth to argue. “Yeah, I know, your timeline was also the sacred timeline, but it wasn’t until me killing ‘Him’ created all these different timelines.”

“Okay, sure-,” Mobius said with a nod. “That still doesn’t explain why you want to go back to that timeline. You killed that version of ‘Him’ in that timeline, didn’t you? Why else do you need to go back?”

“Because that timeline contains a few people that could be useful in defeating the other versions of ‘Him’,” Loki answers. 

“And… how do you know that?”

“Because they were the only versions of themselves that were able to kill another mad ruler,” Sylvie says, glancing at Loki with her face softened in pity. “The only being who was destined – and able – to kill us…”

“Oh…” Mobius cleared his throat awkwardly, unsure whether to continue scrolling through his TemPad or keep talking. “Uh… I don’t know if this is inconsiderate of me to say, but… maybe it would be worth getting that guy to join your team? Since he was able to kill you, maybe they could-,”

“No.” Loki didn’t even need to give a reason why he was against that idea. The tone behind that one word said more than any explanation he could give. 

“Fair enough, scratch that idea-,” Mobius made the smart move and returned his attention to his TemPad. “Selecting certain timelines, selecting certain timelines… Ah, here we go! Seems it’s… huh.”

“What? What’s huh?” Sylvie asked. 

“There is a way to select a specific timeline. Kind of,” Mobius answered, standing from his chair and making his way around his desk to them. “Could you hold up the TemPad for me?”

Sylvie did as Mobius asked, holding out her arm in front of her so the TemPad was on display. 

“You remember what I said about the TemPad making a connection with the user?” Mobius asked, getting nods from them in return. “Well, the connection goes deeper than that. So much so that… only the person who has been designated as the leader of the TVA can use it.”

“What?” Sylvie splutters. “I’m not the leader of the TVA-,”

“Tell that to the TemPad,” Mobius returned. 

“Sylvie… I think he might be right,” Loki said, getting Sylvie to snap her head towards him. “He wanted us to rule the TVA, remember? Someone to take over his job. He offered us the position, took off the TemPad, and then-,”

“But I didn’t accept it!” Sylvie argued, looking more and more horrified with every passing second. “I just-”

“Took the TemPad,” Loki cut her off, filling in what she was about to say. 

“Far as the TemPad is concerned, you’re the leader now,” Mobius told her. “You see those gold lines running across the surface?” 

“Yes, but what’s that got do with anythi—”

“They’re not just for design,” Mobius answered before Sylvie could finish. “Those lines? They’re actually timelines.”

Sylvie blinked in surprise, glancing first over to Loki, then down to the TemPad. 

“You see, ‘He Who Remains’ wanted to make sure he could return to his timeline whenever he needed to,” Mobius continued, nodding to the TemPad. “Mostly to make sure none of the other variants of him were wreaking havoc on his timeline, but also… just to return home, I guess. Do me a favor and run your hand along its surface, would you?”

Sylvie shot Mobius a curious look, but did as he asked anyway. The surface of the TemPad shifted, the squiggly lines running along its surface passing by in a blur of movement. Then, it seemed to settle on a certain design, displaying the usual bright gold line with branches coming off of it. 

“That right there?” Mobius began, looking between the two of them, and then down to the TemPad. “That’s your timeline, Sylvie.”

Sylvie’s head shot up at that, feeling her heart clench at his words. It was… it was impossible. Her timeline didn’t exist anymore. Judge Renslayer and her Minute-Men had made sure of that. 

“Now see, if I try and select a timeline-,” 

Mobius’s hand moved towards the TemPad, and almost on instinct did Sylvie pull it away from him, holding it protectively to her body. Mobius let out an exasperated sigh at the defensive action, dropping his hands back to his sides and shoving them into his pockets. “Really? Isn’t trust supposed to be a two-way system?”

“From what I’ve heard,” Sylvie said as Loki unconsciously tried to move closer to her. He had done this a few times before, and this time, she found herself moving closer to him, too. “Not sure your argument works when you clearly don’t trust us, either.”

“Can you blame me?” Mobius asked, getting you a genuine huff of laughter from Sylvie. 

“No. If anything, I respect you for it,” Sylvie said. 

“Good form of self-preservation, really,” Loki added. 

“Fine. I won’t touch it.” Mobius turned around on the spot, strolling back over to his side of the desk. “Guess you’ll just have to take my word for it.”

“What would have happened?” Even if Sylvie didn’t want Mobius to touch it, that wasn’t to say that she wasn’t curious as to what he was trying to show her. 

“Nothing,” Mobius answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “It wouldn’t have responded to me -- because I’m not its owner.”

“But… why would He have just given it up like that?” Sylvie asked. “I hadn’t agreed to anything yet.”

“‘What’s the worst that could happen,’“ Loki mimicked He Who Remains’s words. “Either we took over, or an infinite amount of Him manifests into existence and fights to get back to where He was. No matter what option came to be, he no longer needed that TemPad.”

“Still seems strange to me that he just… gave you the TemPad,” Mobius thought out loud, placing his hands on the desk and resting his weight on it. “That is what I saw, right? He just… took it off and slid it across the desk to you.”

“Yeah… He did,” Sylvie’s face pinched into a frown, slowly looking up to Loki. “Loki, did you ever notice how… he seemed almost excited at the idea of me killing him?”

Loki mirrors her frown, thinking back to what felt like a lifetime ago now. “In what way?” 

“He was looking at you guys kinda funny during your big fight,” Mobius said, drumming his fingers across the desk. 

“Was he?” Loki asks. “I was a little too distracted at the time to notice.”

“He even looked strangely invested when you guys, uh…” Mobius trailed off awkwardly, hoping they would fill in the blanks for themselves. When Loki and Sylvie only stared blankly back at him, he hung his head with a dejected sigh. “Oh, for the love of… When you kissed, for god's sake…”

“Oh…” Loki was surprised to feel the flush of heat to his face. “Again, a little distracted -- which, I think was your plan.” Loki cast Sylvie an annoyed look at that last part.

“Already said I’m sorry–”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah -- how about we move on from that.” Mobius hurried them past the miniature bickering session that was likely to start. “Or… no wait, let’s go back to that.”

Loki and Sylvie looked to each other at the same time, like they were somehow able to communicate through eye contact alone. “Let’s go back to… us arguing?” Sylvie wanted to clarify. 

“Yes! But, no, don’t actually argue—” Mobius somehow made this all the more confusing. “What was it that He said to you guys? Something about trust, or… being unable to trust—”

“He asked me if I could trust Loki.” Sylvie, of course, remembered this. She knew she’d never forget. “And… if I could trust anyone at all."

Mobius nodded to himself, staring down at his feet as he thought. “Why would he say that? If he wanted you to work together, to lead the TVA together, then… why would he plant those doubts in your head?”

“It almost seems like he was trying to get us to fight,” Loki said to Sylvie. “Maybe… he never really wanted us to take over.”

“You think he wanted to die?”

“I think he wanted to be reborn,” Loki corrected Sylvie. “I don’t think he was just tired; I think he was bored. After countless years of writing everyone’s stories – himself included – I think… I think he wanted you to open up the multiverse, to live an infinite amount of lives outside of his own script.”

Sylvie shook her head with a bitter laugh, her lip curling in disgust as she looked down to His former TemPad. “My whole life, I only had the thought of watching His life drain away to get me through the day… And now, it turns out I did what he always wanted, anyway.”

Sylvie reached out a hand towards the TemPad, the glow of its timelines reflecting in her shining eyes. She ran a finger softly across the timeline – her timeline – watching as the TemPad slowly moves with her finger, displaying the different branches that come off of her timeline. 

“Is this really my timeline?” Sylvie doesn’t look away from the TemPad. 

“It’s what the files say,” Mobius tells her. 

“How is that possible?” Sylvie tears her eyes away, looking up to Mobius. “My timeline was pruned.”

“Exactly. It was pruned,” Mobius says. “But now we have this whole mess of branches, forming into a whole mess of timelines.”

“So?”

“So, somewhere out there is a timeline where you were never picked up by us,” said Mobius, looking pointedly to Sylvie’s TemPad. “Oh, right -- it’s that timeline right there.”

“A timeline where the TVA never interfered…” Loki says in wonderment, turning wide eyes towards Sylvie. “Your timeline never would have been pruned…”

“My family…” Sylvie whispers, finding herself frozen in shock. “My home… my life…”

“So… we’re on Sylvie’s timeline now?” Loki asks Mobius. “How would that work when we, apparently, don’t exist…?”

“This isn’t Sylvie’s timeline,” Mobius said, scooping up the TemPad he left laying on his desk and tucking it into his jacket. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. When you grabbed the TemPad and opened a door here, it should have opened up into a TVA on your timeline. But… it didn’t.” 

Mobius took a seat on the edge of his desk – despite the perfectly fine chair right there in front of him – crossing his arms against his chest with his back partly turned to them. “What were you doing whilst you were opening the Time-Door? Was there any interference?”

“Oh, um…” Sylvie glanced awkwardly to Loki, whose raised questioning eyebrow quickly dropped into a look of realization at her pointed look. 

“Ah…” Loki drawled out slowly, scratching at the back of his head. “Would us, uh… touching be classified as ‘interference?’” 

“Oh, you were–” Mobius cut himself off with a burst of laughter, slapping at his knee. “You opened up that Time-Door whilst you were kissing, didn’t you? That explains it…”

“Does it? Feel free to pass on that explanation to us -- you know, if you feel like it.” Sylvie didn’t appreciate being the recipient of Mobius’s ridicule. 

“The TemPad was trying to open up the Time-Door to your specific timeline. Problem is… it didn’t know which one of you to focus on. Can’t open one door into two separate timelines, so, it had to compromise. Instead of opening up a Time-Door into either one of your timelines…”

“It opened up into one where we don’t exist.” Loki guessed correctly. 

“You both canceled each other out,” Mobius tacked on. 

“And what about the others?” Sylvie asked.

“The other… what’s?”

“The Apocalypses we jumped to,” Sylvie clarified. “Were they… were they my timeline?”

“If it was just you touching the TemPad? Then yeah, it would have been your timeline.”

“That must have been why it was different,” Loki said in realization. “Those attackers… they came earlier than they were supposed to, didn’t they?”

“One small change can lead to a whole ton of butterfly effects.” Mobius slowly made his way to the side of the desk, sliding the drawer closed as he went. “Some of those changes can be small, like… like someone speaking one word on one day differently. And then the other changes…”

“Can breed a multi-verse ending conqueror,” Loki finished grimly, getting a shrug of agreement from Mobius. 

“So… we know we can get to my timeline. Is that the only way we can select a specific timeline?”

“Right, the uh, the other sacred timeline,” Mobius mumbled, scratching at the back of his head as he thought. “Well… you came from that one, right? You made a connection between that timeline to this timeline when you shoved Loki through that Time-Door.”

“But we’ve moved on since then,” Loki pointed out. “If Sylvie touches the TemPad, it’ll display her timeline, won’t it?”

“If that’s the one you select, sure. But–”

“But the TemPad saves previously opened Time-Doors.” Sylvie already knew where Mobius was going with this. “That’s how we got here in the first place. I opened up a Time-Door I had already opened before, back in the Citadel.”

“Which is the timeline currently on display,” Mobius said. “All you’ve gotta do is follow that timeline back… and it’ll connect to the timeline you came from.”

“Hang on…” Loki turned his attention back to Sylvie, his brow furrowing in thought. “What about my timeline? Would… would that have been re-created too?”

Sylvie placed a comforting hand on his arm, giving his bicep a kind squeeze with an understanding smile. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

Loki looked genuinely taken aback as she unwound the TemPad from her hand. For a moment, she simply stood and held this greatly powerful device in her hands. She kept her eyes locked with his, a note of understanding passing between them as she slowly held out the TemPad for him to take. 

Loki didn’t take it. Not right away. “It might not work. Not just because my timeline might still remain erased, but… what if the TemPad can’t have two owners?”

“’He Who Remains’ made it clear he wanted both of us to rule.” Sylvie pushed the TemPad into his chest. She grabbed hold of his hand, pulling it up to the TemPad and curling his fingers around it. “Besides… we might be two separate beings, but our souls exist as one and the same. If it works for me? Then I know it’ll work for you, too.”

“You are very confident,” Loki noted with a small smile, his weak grip on the TemPad strengthening as he finally took the TemPad from her. 

Loki couldn’t bring himself to look at the TemPad as he slid it onto his hand, experimentally flexing his fingers to get used to the feeling of the cylindrical object sat atop his hand. Sylvie nodded at him in encouragement when his eyes landed on her, letting her hand slip away from his arm to make sure they were no longer touching. 

Loki finally dropped his eyes down to the TemPad. Sylvie’s timeline continued to blink up at him, just waiting for its new owner to press his touch into its surface. Loki let his hand hover over the TemPad, a moment of shaky hesitation passing before he swiped his finger across the flat surface of the TemPad. 

In the blink of an eye, the surface began to change. Billions upon billions of timelines flashed before his eyes as the TemPad searched for his timeline, and for one heart-stopping moment, Loki wondered if it would simply be searching forever, his timeline removed from all of existence. 

And then it stopped. It stopped, and Loki and Sylvie could only stand and stare at the brilliantly gold streak of lightning that stared back at them. Right there was Loki’s timeline. Right there was a universe where none of this had ever happened -- an unlimited expanse of possibilities his life could have taken.

And that’s when Mobius held the pruning stick to Sylvie’s neck. 

Loki knew it was foolish of him to let his guard down, even if in the presence of – who he supposed – was a friend. But it wasn’t his friend. This Mobius might have been witness to the events that led to their friendship, but he didn’t experience them. And that was made all the difference, it seemed. 

One second, Sylvie was right there next to him, looking at the TemPad just as he was. The next, she was just… gone. Loki’s head snapped up in a daze, taking in the sight of Sylvie struggling vehemently as Mobius wrapped an arm around her neck, keeping her pinned to him as he held the glowing end of the pruning stick much too close to Sylvie for either of their comfort. 

Sylvie looked more pissed at herself than she did at Mobius. Just like Loki, she had made the foolish mistake of letting her guard down. The entire time she had been here, she had every possible guard up and alert, just waiting for the moment this all went to shit. And then… and then Mobius had told her that somewhere out there is the family she knows, the family she never got to grow up with, and she had stupidly returned back to the state of that little princess of Asgard who had no reason not to trust anyone. 

“Don’t struggle.” Mobius’s words did not come out as a command. Not that he wanted them to sound like it. It was more a word of advice than anything. “I don’t want to accidentally catch you with this thing.”

“Then why are you holding it to my neck?” Sylvie forced out through gritted teeth, continuing to struggle despite Mobius’s warning. She kept her gaze focused on the pruning stick Mobius had snuck out of his desk drawer, her hands dug into the arm around her neck, tugging uselessly at them to get his hold to loosen. Except, every defiant pull to his arm only resulted in the pressure against her neck tightening, coming dangerously close to cutting off her air supply. 

“Mobius, what are you doing?” Loki spluttered out, yanking out his dagger from his jacket pocket in a flash of metal. 

“What I have to.” Mobius took a cautious step back away from Loki, dragging a very uncooperative Sylvie with him. “And don’t you think about going for that sword, Sylvie. The moment I feel your arms move anywhere down, I’ll prune you before you can even come close to touching it.”

Sylvie laughed mockingly at that. Loki stood in a battle-ready stance, looking very much not amused by Mobius’s words as Sylvie had. “You’re not used to the whole ‘threatening demeanor’ thing, are you?” Sylvie goaded him. 

“I’ll admit it’s not my forte.” Mobius carefully maneuvered himself back around the desk, placing it between him and Loki. Loki slowly moved forward with him, coming to a stop just in front of the desk. “Especially when I don’t want to be doing this.”

“Then why are you doing this?” Loki hoped his pleading tone would get through to Mobius in some sort of way. 

“Because it’s my job,” Mobius forced out the words with as much authority as he could muster. 

“You’ve seen the truth!” Sylvie grunted, still fighting against Mobius’s hold. “You know what He did to you! To all of us!”

“That doesn’t change the importance of my work.” Mobius’s words make the weight in Loki’s chest sink heavier. “Or the importance of His work. I agree with you that this whole thing ends with Him; I just don’t agree with your method. I think… I know that the strands of time are only safe in His hands. Only He can untangle and sort out those strands and ensure the timeline runs through to the end without any problems.”

“Mobius, no–” Loki desperately hoped he could get through to him. “If that was the case, then we wouldn’t be right here, would we? You wouldn’t have existed if that was the case. Sylvie and I wouldn’t exist. But that’s what's happened, whether by His deciding or not. If we just sit back and let him rise to power once more… what’s to stop this from happening all over again?”

“And what if your version of Him isn’t the one that comes out on top?” Sylvie asks Mobius, lessening her struggles now that Mobius held the pruning stick even closer, buzzing away mere inches from her face. “Somewhere out there is a variant of him that isn’t interested in pruning the other timelines. Instead, he only wants to rule over them all.”

“It’s up to Him to decide what we’ll do about that,” Mobius replied, much to Loki’s dismay. 

Mobius sighed lightly, ducking his head with his eyes clenched shut. “Please, just… do as I say. I meant it when I said I don’t want to be doing this. I think… I think you guys could be of some help to us–”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Sylvie groaned. “You’re trying to recruit us now?”

“Not right now,” Mobius corrected her. “I know you won't right now in this moment. But… you’ll see. You’ll see that this is the only way. Now, please, if you’d just… hand over the TemPad. I promise we won’t reset you, or put you in a time-loop -- nothing like that.”

“Mobius–” Loki tried again, only to be cut off by the man in question.

“It won't be long before someone comes into this office. I can’t guarantee they won't do something drastic if they come in and see you like that with your weapons. But if you come cooperatively–”

“We’ll be slaves to the TVA, just as you are?” Sylvie asks, voice soaked in disgust. “No thanks -- I’d rather take my chances with the pruning stick.”

“Yeah… yeah, that’s a good point,” Mobius mumbled, much to Loki and Sylvie’s confusion. “You… you voluntarily pruned yourself, didn’t you? The both of you were pruned, and you made it out…”

“We did,” Loki confirmed, taking a single step closer, feeling the wooden panel of Mobius’s desk pressing into his knees. “And we both took down the creature He himself tamed and weaponized to devour timelines whole.”

“In other words… do it,” Sylvie spat at Mobius, giving one last attempt at breaking free that yields no results. “You know as well as we do that that’s not a threat to us. Not really.”

“No, I suppose you’re right,” Mobius agreed. Seeing Mobius deactivate the pruning stick briefly filled Loki with a surge of hope, wondering if maybe, just maybe, they had found a way to deescalate the situation. That hope prompted surged out of him, however, as Mobius flipped the pruning stick around in his hand, now holding the pointed, sharp spear end of the stick against Sylvie’s neck. “You might be able to escape pruning… but can you come back from a blade in your throat?”

No. No, they could not. 

“Mobius, please,” Loki begged one more time, holding out a dagger in front of him. “Stop this. You’ve seen reason, I know you have. I don’t want to do this as much as you don’t–”

“Then just hand over the TemPad,” Mobius said like it was a no-brainer decision. Loki felt his muscles coil in anticipation as the very tip of the spear pierced Sylvie’s flesh, clenching his jaw hard when he saw the small trickle of blood slip down her neck. He had to make a decision–

“You know your magic doesn’t work here,” Mobius reminded him with an almost pitiful expression. “This is it, Loki. No more tricks from the trickster.”

Loki decided. 

“No. There’s no magic,” Loki agreed, holding out his dagger like he was about to drop it in surrender. 

Loki dropped his hand down in a flash, connecting with the surface of the TemPad, just as he had seen He Who Remains do back in the Citadel. Mobius blinked, and then Loki was gone. He startled, not even having time to ponder over what had happened before Loki blinked back into existence behind him – not that he could see – and slid the dagger he held in his hand right in the small of his back. Mobius jolted at the searing pain that erupted from his back, barely able to get out a gasp of pain as his body locked up. 

“–But I still have your technology,” Loki completed the rest of his sentence before yanking the dagger out from Mobius’s back. 

Sylvie took advantage of the slackening of Mobius’s grip, forcing an elbow back hard into the side of his ribs. Mobius had completely let go at this point, but she still spun around on the spot, bringing up her leg and kicking Mobius hard in the chest. Mobius went down without much resistance, slamming into the wall behind him with a pained grunt. He slid down to the floor, leaving behind a trail of red against the wall as he went.

“Huh…” Mobius’s eyes were unfocused, staring blankly to the ground in front of him. “You know, I… I could have sworn I heard you said to that other me that… that you were done stabbing people in the back.”

Mobius dredged up just enough energy to raise his eyes up, meeting Loki’s agonized ones. There was… nothing in his eyes. No blame, no hatred, no fear. But… there was nothing good there, either. No forgiveness, no kindness he’s seen from Mobius plenty of times before. It was just… blank. He was blank. 

One second, Loki's staring at a man whose heart was still pumping, whose blood still circulated around his body. Then, he was actually able to see the moment the life drained away from him, like a candle being blown out. Any semblance of the man he knows disappears from Mobius’s eyes, his head dropping down to his chest before he slowly slumps down to the ground, staring without seeing. 

The weight of the dagger in Loki’s hands had never felt as heavy as it had before. His shaking hands lift the dagger up, the buzzing fluorescent lights of Mobius’s office reflecting off the shining surface of the blade. The dagger had served its purpose, had done what it was designed to do. And yet, as Loki stared down at the offending item and took in the sight of Mobius’s blood coating the once perfectly clean metal, he wanted nothing more than to cast it into the eternal flame and watch it melt into nothing.

How many times had he done exactly this? He was far from inexperienced in battle, and far from inexperienced in hurting those he cares about for his own gain. So why, this time, did he feel the burn of bile in the back of his throat? Why, this time, did his hands shake so hard that he let his trusted weapons drop to the ground? Why, this time, did he find himself stumbling down to the ground, breaths coming short and fast as he stared at the corpse of the only friend he’s truly ever known?

“Loki…” Sylvie’s voice sounded far away and muted, as if they were underwater. In the back of his mind, he registers that she’s moved in front of him, blocking him from seeing Mobius’s corpse. Her concerned face fills his vision, blurry as if his eyes were filled with tears. Wait… were they? It would certainly explain the stinging sensation he felt in them, and the wetness he could feel rolling down his face. 

Her hands cup his face, desperately trying to bring him back to himself. Just like Mobius, his eyes had gone scarily blank. “Loki, it’s not your fault. It’s not, okay? That’s… that wasn’t him. That wasn’t Mobius -- not really.”

Something flickers back to life in his eyes. They shift around, searching across her face as if he was finally seeing her here, still with him, sat right in front of him. He swallows hard, his gaze drifting to where he knows Mobius’s corpse lies behind her. 

“I know.” Simply hearing Loki speak out loud helped to lessen some of the fear that had been constricting her chest. “But… it also is.”

Sylvie didn’t even know what she could say right now that would be of any comfort to him. She had never really had to comfort someone before, or had someone comfort her. Except… well, she supposed that Loki had attempted to comfort her a few times: back on Lamentis when it seemed like the end of the line; or in ‘The Time-Keeper’s chambers when they realized the Time Keepers weren’t real. But then, even if she did know how to go about comforting him, this certainly wasn’t the place to do it. Not with Mobius’s body sat right there behind her, and not in a place where they could be locked up at any moment. 

Sylvie turns her head towards the office door, just waiting for the sounds of rushing footsteps to echo down the hall. A part of her thinks it would almost be better than the silence they found themselves in -- apart from the repetitive tick of the clock hung in the top middle section of the wall Mobius was slumped by.

She needed to get Loki out of here. She didn’t care where, or what timeline it was, it just had to be not here. Sylvie brushed her thumb tenderly across Loki’s cheek, wiping away a stubborn tear that clung to his skin. She dropped her hands away from his face, turning to Mobius’s body with a grimace. Avoiding looking the corpse in the eye, she reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the TemPad he had stored in there, trying her best not to disturb his body too much. 

“Sorry, Mobius,” Sylvie whispers as she moves away from his body, casting him one last regretful look before straightening herself into a stand. The TemPad in her hands was at least familiar, and yet… it felt wrong to use, now. Shaking her head, she flipped open the screen to the TemPad, letting out a breath of relief that it was fully charged. She entered in the information for the Time-Door without much of a thought, its manifestation enough to force Loki’s gaze away from Mobius’s body. 

“We need to go,” Sylvie reaches out a hand towards Loki, grateful that his eyes follow the movement of her hand instead of settling back on Mobius. Loki nods, hesitating for a moment before he picks his dagger back up from the ground. His TemPad clad hand clasps onto Sylvie’s, taking her offered help as she pulls him up to his feet. She doesn’t let go of his hand, even when he’s stood back on his feet, and when Loki squeezes her hand in thanks, she knows she's made the right decision. 

“Don’t look.” Sylvie moves in front of him, forcing his eyes onto her. Loki does as she asks, forcing everything in his vision apart from her to go blurry and out of focus. Sylvie slowly starts walking back towards the Time-Door, pulling Loki with her as she goes. 

What Loki and Sylvie didn’t know was that, after they stepped through that Time-Door, someone did come into Mobius’s office. But it wasn’t just a group of Minute-Men. Nor was it Judge Whittle. 

Deep purple robes brushed against the floor as the figure stepped into the room, calculated dark eyes scanning across the room before falling on Mobius. The man sighed, more in irritation at not having caught the intruders red-handed than in the sadness he should have felt for having lost such a devoted worker. 

“They found their way in,” The man calls out to the security detail stood post next to the door. “Get someone to retrieve this body once I’ve looked over it. We need to check for any cross-contamination.”

The man waited until one of the security detail had hurried off to carry out his orders before stepping further into the room. He strode over to Mobius’s body, crouching down onto one knee with his head tilted to the side as he looked him up and down. He reached out, grabbing Mobius’s arm and rolling him over onto his stomach. Immediately, he took sight of the dark patch of red soaked into the back of Mobius’s jacket. With careful hands, he pried the jacket off of the body, followed shortly by the now stained white button-up shirt. 

The man clicked his tongue, resting an arm on his knee as he looked to the open wound that had been carved into the center of Mobius’s back. There’s a tentative knock to the office door he had closed behind him, looking over to it as it swings open. The Minute-Men he had requested filed into the room, standing at attention and ready for orders. 

“You—” He points to one of the Minute Men in line, who somehow manages to stand straighter now he had been singled out. “—Come here.”

Obediently, the Minute Man hurries over to the man, nervous eyes fixed dead-ahead as he waits for further orders. 

“I want you… to take a look at the wound,” The man instructs him, folding his hands behind his back and nodding his head towards Mobius’s body. “Look at the shape of it… the size of it. Do you recognize the weapon that inflicted it?”

“Um….” The Minute Man stammers out, voice trembling with nerves as he kneels down by Mobius’s body to take a closer look at the wound. “It… it seems like a small blade, Sir.”

“Hmm… I’d have to agree with you on that one.” The man places a hand on the Minute Man’s shoulder in what should have been a comforting gesture, but was far from it. “A small blade, expertly wielded, by someone who is… intimately familiar with the weapon in question. And… considering the placement of the wound, I’d have to say familiar with this analyst, wouldn’t you?”

“I… I suppose so, Sir.”

“You suppose? Okay, well, I’ll give you my final theory.” The man’s grip on his shoulder tightens, feeling the trembling of the Minute-Man underneath his hands. “I think… the damage done here was by a dagger. Do you know what that means?”

The Minute Man remained frozen under his hands, wisely letting the man monologue away instead of actually answering. 

“It means it’s them. It means that they’re finally starting to make a move… It means that what I saw, and what I heard, was true. It means… it won't be long before they start hunting down me.”

Next Chapter - - - >

#sylki #sylki fanfiction #sylki fanfic #pro sylki #loki/sylvie #lovedagger #enchantricks

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Footprints in the Sand

Part 3: Less

Summary/Author’s note: We’re getting there I promise. I’m trying not to rush it because I know when I read a slow burn it is so much more satisfying but they are so hard to write because goddammit y’all are in love we know it, just bone. I can also post the Lannister family tree if that helps you guys see the reader’s relation, I did the research to figure out where they fit and…whew boy. That tree has a lot of branches. Enjoy.

Pairing: Oberyn x Ellaria x Reader Word Count: 3k Rating/Warnings: R/18+ Language, Mentions of implied/wrongly accused rape.

(Parts) (1)(2)   [MASTERLIST]

Sleep had been impossible. You tossed and turned with thoughts of the Prince and his Paramour and the proposal they had laid at your feet. The smart thing to do would be to weigh your options–compare the idea of leaving behind everything you’ve ever known, or jumping head first off a cliff into a new adventure. Instead, what you had done all night was lay in bed and think of Ellaria’s mouth on yours. You shut your eyes tightly and rolled over burying your face in the pillow. 

It wasn’t like you had never thought about another woman in the way you had spent the entire night thinking about Ellaria Sand. Since you were a young girl the idea of kissing another girl had made your heart flutter beneath your breast. Women were beautiful in the same way you found men to be–it seemed a pretty straightforward concept. But to the world around you, thoughts like these made you feel ostracized, so you did what you thought was best and shoved them down into a dark part of your subconscious willing them to just disappear. One kiss from Ellaria though, had undone all of your careful repressive work and brought those feelings running to the surface like a siren breaking through the waters of the sea. 

You groaned and smacked the pillow before sitting up in bed and shoving the hair from your eyes. Sleep wasn’t coming and the birds were already starting to stir outside the window of your bedchambers. You tied your hair back out of your eyes in a ribbon and pulled an old robe out of your trunk, slipping it around your shoulders. You touched the necklace that dangled between your breasts and took a deep breath before walking out into the hall.

The kitchen was already bustling with a few of the maids as they started to get breakfast ready for the guests of the castle. Fresh baked bread with freshly churned butter and clover honey sat on the table next to a plate of ham. You said good morning to one of the other ladies and sat down going straight for the fragrant bread and spreads.

“Good morning, (y/n).” One of the maids said as she sat a cup down in front of you. “Your uncle has already gone for a meeting with the other Lannisters. He didn’t want to wake you.”

You nodded but didn’t try to talk over your mouth full of food. It wasn’t like his daily agenda meant much to you, if he needed your help at the market he would have taken the time to wake you.

“He did ask if there was something you wanted to tell him?” She put her hands on her wide hips and raised a gray eyebrow. 

“What?” You ask, swallowing rather hard.

“I’m guessing it has something to do with your new suitor!” She gestured over towards the window with a large, motherly smile on her face. 

You follow her gaze and are glad you no longer had a mouth full of bread because you would have choked. In the window, already starting to turn towards the early morning sunrise, was a large ornate vase. The vase was filled with large orange and yellow tiger lilies, similar in color to the dress Ellaria had worn the day before–or colors that represented house Martell. You put down your breakfast and shoved the chair away from the table, quickly getting up to inspect them. 

“Shit,” you breathed without thinking. 

“Someone fancies you, dear,” the maid continued to smile as she laid down more dishes and silverware. 

You were only half listening as a folded piece of paper caught your eye. In swirling script it simply read:

‘A conventional life is a boring life. – O & E’

You quickly stuffed the note in the pocket of your robe and picked up the vase, turning towards the stairs.

“Surely you’re not finished. You’ve barely touched your food.” The maid called after you as you started the climb back to your room.

“I’m not hungry. If he asks, tell my Uncle I’ll be home late.” You said over your shoulder as you slammed the door behind you. After setting the vase on your nightstand, you pulled the note out of your pocket and read it over again before getting dressed quickly.

–

By the time you were dressed and halfway to the brothel, the city was awake and thriving. Shops were open and people were milling about procuring items that they would need for the upcoming days. A light mist had fallen over most of the city and it was as if the sky could not decide if it wanted to rain or not. You rubbed your arms in your short-sleeved dress, missing the shawl that you were now certain you left in Oberyn’s Chambers in your haste to leave the day before. 

The door to the brothel was locked when you tried to turn the handle, you hadn’t thought about it possibly being closed. When did brothels start doing daily business? Unsure of what else to do, you knocked timidly.

A robed woman, you would have bet money was wearing nothing underneath, answered the door, leaning on the archway. “Can I help you, sweet one?” She said, practically purring.

“I’m here to see Prince Oberyn,” you tried. “He’s–he’s expecting me.” It was only a half lie. 

She looked down your body slow enough to make you want to turn away but then she nodded her head to gesture inside. “Upstairs.” She moved to the side to allow you to pass. 

The door shut behind you and you headed for the stairs. The place was much quieter than it had been the day before, as most of its patrons were probably still in bed or just beginning to take breakfast. The thought made you pause outside the bedchamber you knew belonged to the prince. We’re they even awake? Fuck. You leaned your forehead against the wood of the door contemplating turning around and walking back to the castle. But something inside you said otherwise and before you lost what little courage you had, you knocked on the door.

“Enter,” a familiar, deep voice said and you did.

Oberyn was sitting up against the headboard, a book balanced in one hand, while the other stroked Ellaria’s dark hair as she slept on his bare chest. He peered over the book as you leaned against the door to close it behind you.

“(Y/n),” he said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice as he put the book down. As he moved to sit up, Ellaria opened her eyes. She sat up with a look of shock equal to that of the prince, the movement causing the sheet to slip, revealing her naked breast.

“I’m sorry,” you started to look away but stopped yourself, remembering their lessons from the day before. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

They stayed quiet, as if worried whatever they said would scare you off. Taking a few steps towards the bed, you continued.

“I don’t know why I’m here or what I want.” You hugged your own arms as if trying to protect yourself from the raw feelings you were voicing. “But I know that you’re right. I can’t stay in King’s Landing. I can’t go back to Casterly Rock. I can’t be a merchant.” You took a deep breath and closed your eyes tightly forcing yourself to be honest. “No one has ever asked me what I want. Not until yesterday. Not until you.” You opened your eyes and looked at Ellaria. “I’m not saying yes to going to Dorne. But–I’m not saying no." 

You looked between them both as you focused on the simple act of breathing normally. Here you stood, talking too much and looking like a ridiculous little girl. Surely they would rescind their offer now. Surely they would regret pursuing you like this after such an embarrassing outburst, but all they did was share a knowing smile before looking back to you.

“Say something, please.” You sighed and put a hand to your face, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Did you get our gift?” Oberyn asked, simply.

You blinked slowly before nodding. “Y-yes. They’re lovely." 

“They reminded us of you,” Ellaria said, grinning as she laid her head back on Oberyn’s chest. 

“Stop,” you shook your head, feeling the heat rise to your face again, but you couldn’t help the smile that broke through your face. 

Oberyn turned his head and pressed his lips to Ellaria’s hairline before sitting up. "I’ll have someone bring us up some breakfast.” As he threw his dark blue shawl around his shoulders from the day before, you were left alone with the woman you had spent the whole night dreaming about. 

—

“So, I threw my dagger and pinned his hand to the wall.” Oberyn picked up a strawberry from the platter on the table and popped it into his mouth before, putting his hand against the wall like he was stuck to it.

“You didn’t,” you shook your head, smiling as Oberyn stood in front of you and Ellaria miming the perfect throw of a knife. He had been telling stories for the better part of the morning and you had been enjoying them immensely. He had a knack for it and an energy that made even the simplest of tales interesting.

“I absolutely did.” He insisted. “And it was even more impressive because he was a small man, with very small hands.” He waggled his large hand in the air as if to demonstrate.

“And you know what they say about small hands?” Ellaria said, finishing her wine and slinking off the couch towards the prince. 

“What do they say about small hands?” You said, knowing perfectly well what the old adage was but wanting to hear her say it. 

“Small hands means a small cock, my dear. So tell me,” she held up Oberyn’s hand and pressed hers to it, so they were palm to palm. His hand absolutely swallowed hers. “What does that say about our dear Prince’s hands?” She grinned and you blushed, looking back into your glass of wine.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled into your cup not knowing what else to say.

Oberyn started to lean down to capture Ellaria’s lips but she pulled away to keep her eyes on you. “By the gods, what are you sorry for?”

“It was forward of me, to–” you swallowed hard and forced yourself to meet her gaze. “To discuss such things.”

“Discuss what? The Prince’s cock?” she let the hard sound at the end of the word echo slightly in the back of her throat for emphasis. Oberyn smirked and intertwined his fingers with his paramour’s for a moment as he looked at you.

You shook your head and broke their gaze once again. Why was she doing this? Was it her personal goal to make you slide off of the couch into a puddle on the floor? Did you care?

Ellaria let go of Oberyn’s hand and grinned. “You are a sweet one.” She walked back over to the fainting couch the two of you were sharing and pulled her legs under her as she sat. “When you’re with us, you apologize to no one." 

“But why?” you asked.

“Life is too short to feel ashamed about one of the greatest pleasures in it.” She tucked your hair behind your ear and continued, “Oberyn’s talked all morning. It’s your turn.” 

“Me?” 

“Excellent idea,” Oberyn said, kicking his feet up on the table and refilling his cup. 

“But you already know so much about me,” you joked, remembering the information that Oberyn paid for.

“I don’t want to know things that are common knowledge,” Oberyn said. “We want the good parts.”

“I’m afraid none of it is very good.” You said, suddenly feeling self-conscious about your less than exciting life thus far. 

“We’ll start easy,” Ellaria shared a nod with Oberyn. “Have you ever been with a man before?”

You choked into your goblet, feeling your eyes water as some of the wine went into your nose. Oberyn grinned so wide it was as if he were a child on his name day. He stroked his beard and kept his eyes on you as you cleared your throat and looked at Ellaria.

“That’s an easy question?”

“Of course,” she nodded. “The answer is a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’. See? Easy.”

You looked at her with wide eyes but still smiled at her seemingly natural charm. “Fine. Yes.” Oberyn pulled his feet down off the table and leaned forward on his chair.

“Yes?” he asked, unable to mask his surprise…or perhaps it was delight. 

“Yes,” you repeated. “It was a long time ago.”

“Well, that much is obvious.” Ellaria interrupted. 

“You’re making fun of me,” you said and she put a hand to her chest in mock surprise.

“Of course I’m not,” she said, and looked at Oberyn. “Would I do such a thing?”

“Do not make me answer that,” he said smartly and looked back at you. “Continue, (y/n).”

You took a deep breath and set your cup on the table in favor of wringing your hands in your lap and not meeting either of their gaze. “It was a childhood infatuation. A stupid fantasy really.” You started and when neither one of them interrupted you, you continued. “My uncle didn’t think it was a good match–below the Lannister name.” 

“But you didn’t think that,” Ellaria said, not as a question but more of a statement. 

“No,” you shook her head. “He was kind. He listened to me. That alone was more important than his house.”

"Who was your father?” Oberyn raised an eyebrow and you rubbed your forehead. 

“My father and Uncle are Joanna’s brothers.”

“Tywin’s deceased wife?”

“Yes. It gets messy when everyone seems to forget that Tywin is Joanna’s second cousin.” You felt embarrassed laying the family tree on the table, but everyone knew the Lannister obsession with keeping everything within the family.

“So, that make’s Tywin–” Ellaria prompted.

“Another uncle, by marriage?” You shook your head and looked exasperated. “I would need to draw it out.”

“What happened to your love from the Rock?” Oberyn asked, changing the subject.

“Right. I was young, and stupid, and we thought we were much sneakier than we actually were.” You swallowed hard and tried to keep your voice from wavering. “We went out to the woods for a midday–” you waved your hand in the air, fumbling for a word to use.

“Fuck,” Ellaria prompted.

“Yes, thank you–” you continued. “And my Uncle had someone follow us. And, on the advice of the almighty Tywin Lannister, had him arrested for rape.” You blinked rapidly and looked upwards refusing to let something you had worked so hard on repressing, surface in front of them. “The charges were dropped of course because it wasn’t true–but the embarrassment was enough to make him run for the hills.” You picked up your glass and took a rather large drink. “Because everyone knows when you fuck a Lannister, you fuck the whole family apparently–and no one wants to do that.” Your tone was bitter, but you couldn’t help it as you ran the cup in between your palms, feeling the weight of their gaze on you. 

“It’s not your fault,” Ellaria said simply, moving to sit closer to you. 

“I know that,” you said, still looking down at your glass.

“Do you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and putting her finger under your chin to make you look at her. 

Your eyes were burning with unshed tears but you stubbornly swallowed them along with the lump in your throat. “Then whose fault is it?”

“Tywin Lannister’s,” Oberyn said firmly, his tone containing a sharp bite. 

“And your Uncle’s,” Ellaria nodded. 

“Well,” you just shrugged lightly in agreement with them, not knowing what else to say. “Not only am I damaged goods–I’m damaged goods with a terrifying family.”

Oberyn got up, pushing his chair back so abruptly it scraped against the wooden floor, making you and Ellaria jump. He moved to the window of the room and leaned against it, looking out at the people below in silent thought. His shoulders moved slowly with a few deep breaths before he finally spoke, turning to look back at you, “The Lannister’s are not terrifying. They are not gods looking down on us from Casterly Rock–they bleed just like all other men.” 

“Oberyn,” Ellaria said carefully.

He moved across the room and knelt down in front of you on one knee. “And you, my lioness,” he took your hand gently, giving you an opportunity to pull away if you wanted to. You didn’t. “Are not damaged goods,” he mumbled the words against your knuckles as he pressed his lips to your hand and gave you a small squeeze. 

Ellaria balanced her chin in her hand and watched the two of you with a small smile. The gesture was so tender coming from a man you had heard so many stories about–and only just met for yourself the day before. It made your chest tight. It made your heart beat a little faster and see such an imposing figure in a new light. 

“Your lioness?” you said, biting your lip and moving the topic to something lighter. You squeezed his hand and rubbed the pad of your thumb over his large fingers. 

Oberyn froze, realizing that you heard exactly what he had said and chuckled. “My apologies.”

“Don’t apologize.” “Don’t apologize.” 

Both you and Ellaria said the same thing at the same time and looked at each other before falling into a fit of laughter. Oberyn let go of your hand and rolled his eyes, standing up and moving back to his chair. “What have I gotten myself into?” he asked no one in particular as you and Ellaria continued to giggle. 

It felt good to laugh. It felt good to talk to people who seemed interested in what you had to say and think. You felt as if a weight had been taken from your shoulders now that someone other than those responsible knew of the injustice of your past. It didn’t make it right. It didn’t make it better. It just made it…less. 

--

[Next Chapter]

Taglist:  @zeldadayer @halefirewarrior @earthtokace @tarrevizslas @1-800-fandomtrashqueen @readsalot73 @lackofhonor @shrew1999

#oberyn martell #prince oberyn #oberyn x ellaria #oberyn x reader #pedro pascal #pedro character fic #oberyn x ellaria x reader #game of thrones #got #Ellaria sand #oberyn martell x reader

[purplehairedwonder]

Hearts With(out) Chains Chapter 12

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen (eventual Lawlu) Words: 4629 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Monkey D. Luffy, Nami, Chopper, Usopp, Brook, Zoro, Nami, Franky, Smoker, Tashigi, Doflamingo Notes: I’m taking my turn at the Corazon!Law AU because my brain won’t leave me alone until this is written down. Tags will be updated as the chapters come out.

The story title is based on the Ellie Goulding song “Hearts Without Chains.”

The nickname Doflamingo uses for Law in this chapter is a nod to the story “Worth” by Doctor_Cyance.

Warning: This chapter contains the description of a panic attack.

Summary: Law is reclaimed by the Family when he's 17 and, with Doflamingo holding the lives of his crew as collateral for his good behavior, eventually becomes the third Corazon. Years later, trapped by his impossible situation, Law finds a strange connection to Monkey D. Luffy, which offers a glimpse of something he's repeatedly had ripped away from him: hope.

Previous chapters: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

After leaving the control room, Law followed the echoing cacophony of the fully collected Straw Hat crew through the halls of the lab. Smoker trailed behind him, tension on the acrid air surrounding him. The moment Law had realized what he’d let the vice admiral hear about his past, he’d debated whether to let Smoker return to the Marines with that information. But the feeling of Vergo’s heartbeat stopping in his hand was still fresh in his mind, and he didn’t particularly feel like ending yet another life today after everything that had happened.

If the other man tried to talk to him about it, though… Well, Law couldn’t make any promises then.

As he walked, Law considered his situation. With Vergo dead, the main source of the rumor of Law’s disloyalty was gone. Law had the dead man’s Den Den Mushi in his pocket, and even if he had recorded Law’s words, Law would simply destroy the recording. For a brief moment, Law considered ending his partnership with the Straw Hats since he’d taken care of his main target, but he dismissed the idea almost as soon as it crossed his mind. Law could pretend he’d never seen Vergo on Punk Hazard, but Doflamingo would hear of Vergo’s death eventually, and, considering the cause of death, there would be no mistaking who had killed him.

Not to mention, Law had obviously failed in the mission he’d been sent to complete—and he couldn’t imagine finishing it now. Not when he couldn’t shake the startled recognition that had struck him as he and Straw Hat had shaken hands that the pull in his chest had gone still, as though Law were where he was meant to be.

No, even with Vergo dead, Law was still just as stuck as he had been the moment Vergo had arrived on the island. He had no choice—either for himself or his nakama—but to continue on the path he was on.

Laughs and shouts bounced off the lab’s metal walls, and, as Law and his stewing shadow approached the source, Law recalled the blueprints he’d been provided; this must be the Biscuit Room, he thought as he stepped into the large, colorful space. He’d wondered at the name as he’d pored over the schematics on his way over, but now he understood. Smoker stepped up next to him and made a disapproving sound at the sight of what was clearly a space for children—children who had become science experiments for a mad clown.

Law narrowed his eyes, assessing the scene in front of him. It seemed the Straw Hats had taken care of their enemies with alacrity. Both Caesar and Monet were wrapped in what Law hoped were Seastone chains (he had warned them) and slumped against the wall. The cat burglar stood not far from them, hands on her hips and a small smile curving her lips as she watched the antics of her crewmates. Smoker’s second stood on the other side of the captives, clearly having taken it upon herself to guard them. G-5 soldiers milled about close to the swordswoman, refusing to fully engage with the pirates.

“Oh, Torao! You’re here!”

Law looked up to see Straw Hat across the room. He was perched atop the back of a couch next to Zoro, who appeared to be dozing. Long Nose sat across from them, his slingshot in hand. It looked like they’d been in the middle of a lively conversation before Law had caught the other captain’s attention. Nico Robin sat next to Long Nose, one leg crossed primly over the other and her hands clasped in her lap. She was smiling, as though enjoying whatever her nakama were discussing. The cyborg sat on the floor next to her. The skeleton, for his part, was wandering around the room, playing a jaunty tune on a violin. (At this point, Law didn’t have it in him to question where that had come from.)

That left the tanuki, Black Leg, and the samurai. Considering none of the children were present, Law had a feeling he knew what the little doctor was up to, anyway. Law idly wondered if he was having any luck treating the children before shoving the thought aside; he didn’t like thinking about his own history with looking to other doctors for help.

“Straw Hat-ya,” Law replied, stepping further into the room.

“What happened to that Verto guy?”

Law tightened his grip on Kikoku briefly. “Dead.”

Straw Hat simply nodded, but outraged noises erupted from the other side of the room. Law turned to look at the prisoners.

“What?” Caesar gasped loudly. “But he’s—”

“So, he was right,” Monet said, the quiet betrayal in her voice more painful than Law had expected it to be. “You were a traitor after all. I didn’t believe him when he told us.”

Though he hated the Family as a whole for what they had taken from him—and continued to take as they held his crew’s lives over his head—Law had spent years with people like Monet once he’d been brought to Dressrosa. And he didn’t hate them all as individuals. Monet was a lot like Law himself, having been rescued by the Family after an unspeakable trauma along with her sister. But, unlike Law, she hadn’t been freed from the corrosive influence of the Donquixote Pirates. She’d been fully indoctrinated and would never believe the truth of who Doflamingo truly was that Law had witnessed on Minion Island. Doffy had her undying loyalty.

Law’s jaw tightened. “He didn’t give me much choice.”

“I can’t believe you teamed up with these… idiots,” Caesar said, lips curling in disgust as he looked at the Straw Hats.

“Idiots?” the cyborg called. “That’s super rude.”                      

“These idiots kicked your butt,” Long Nose reminded him, aiming an empty sling shot in his direction. “So, what does that say about you?”

Caesar made some incomprehensible frustrated noises in response, but Monet simply looked at Law, her usually placid expression tinged with hurt. “Why, Corazon? After everything the Young Master’s given you?”

Law snorted, an ugly sound that caused Monet to recoil. He knew exactly where he stood with Doflamingo—the Warlord’s tool and plaything and the means to an end—and none of it was for Law’s sake.

It was never for anyone’s sake but his own.

Doflamingo liked to act like he was generous with his Family, but all he really knew how to do was take. He gave but took twofold in return—his gifts came with strings, literally and figuratively. The cost was unflinching allegiance to a madman, pieces of one’s soul irreparably damaged by every act of loyalty, every drop of blood spilled in the name of a man who believed himself a god. And the Family was happy to pay the price; Law once had felt the same before he’d been saved.

Doflamingo was also unflinching in taking from those who refused to pay fealty. He’d taken Cora-san all those years ago for saving Law. He’d taken Law’s and his friends’ freedom on a no-name island in the North Blue. He took the very existences of his enemies in Dressrosa, using Sugar’s abilities to erase them from memory and enslave them as toys.

It was fitting, Law had thought when he’d first learned of the scope of the operation in the kingdom; Doflamingo was a puppet master, literally pulling strings. He saw others as his toys to play with as he wished. Law was nothing more than another one of those toys, though a supposedly privileged one, sitting on the Heart Throne. But it was nothing more than a gilded cage. Law’s eventual purpose was still to die for Doflamingo’s immortality. After everything else he’d taken from Law, he also intended to take Law’s life. And he expected Law to give it willingly; anything else would break the illusion of Doflamingo’s complete control.

“He’s given me nothing,” Law replied coldly. Nothing that he hadn’t taken back countless times over as he whittled Law down into the shape he wanted as his Corazon, anyway.

Monet opened her mouth to reply, but she was cut off by a loud wail as the Straw Hats’ little doctor came out of a side room.

“Chopper, what’s wrong?” the cat burglar asked, hurrying to his side.

“I’ve tried everything I can think of,” he said, “but the drugs in their system are just too strong, and I don’t fully understand their interactions.”

“Of course, they’re strong,” Caesar sniffed. “I made them, and I’m a genius.”

“Shut up, clown,” Nami hissed before turning back to her crewmate. “So, what does that mean?”

“If I can’t get the drugs out of their system, they won’t get better,” the tanuki sniffed. “I can treat the symptoms, but I can’t cure them.”

“Let Torao take a look!”

Law jerked in surprise as rubbery limbs wound tightly around his shoulders and the too-loud voice rang in his ears. (His concussion complained with a painful pang in response, and Law winced.) He hadn’t even noticed Straw Hat moving from the couch. Law prodded at him with Kikoku’s hilt in a futile attempt to dislodge him, but Straw Hat just grinned at him.

The Straw Hats’ doctor eyed Law uncertainly. “I don’t know, Luffy…”

“He’s a good doctor,” Luffy said with a decisive nod. “He saved me.”

After several failed attempts to detach the other captain—the freaking limpet—Law sighed and satisfied himself with the biggest eyeroll he could manage.

“Do you think that’s a good idea, Luffy?” the cat burglar asked. Her suspicions remained, and Law could respect that. Someone on this crew needed to exercise some common sense.

“Torao can look at them,” Straw Hat said, unswayed.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Law demanded. Being talked about like he wasn’t present was one of his (admittedly many) pet peeves.

“Shishishi,” Straw Hat chuckled. “You’ll look at them, won’t you?”

In hindsight, as Law followed the tanuki to the room he’d been seeing the children in, he’d like to say he agreed because disagreeing with Straw Hat over it would be too much trouble, and, with his head injury, he didn’t have it in him to argue. But the truth was that there was something in the wide, trusting grin Straw Hat effortlessly threw in his direction and the responding warmth in his chest that made the agreement roll off his tongue before he could stop it.

He listened with half an ear as the tanuki explained what he’d already tried with the children and what he’d found. Though Law wasn’t privy to the exact goings-on in the lab, he had a sense of how ugly some of the projects Doflamingo had his fingers in were, so nothing he heard surprised him.

“L-look, Corazon,” the little doctor said once he finished his recitation, voice trembling slightly as he turned to face Law, hooves on his hips. “These kids have been through a lot. They’re scared and in pain and want to go home. D-don’t make it worse, okay? O-or I’ll kick your ass myself!”

Law had never seen anything less intimidating—and his best friend was a polar bear mink, which said something—but he still respected the sentiment. That protective instinct toward a patient was the attitude a true healer should have, one Law had seen in his parents as they fought for the people of Flevance while it was ravaged by plague. And, despite all the blood he’d spilled over the years, it was a feeling he could feel stirring deep, deep within himself, too.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Law replied. “You probably shouldn’t be here while I work, though.”

“What? Why?”

“My methods are… unorthodox,” Law settled on. Though the Ope Ope no Mi’s effects were bloodless and painless, that didn’t make them any less disturbing to most people who saw them.

The tanuki hemmed and hawed for several moments, and Law felt his impatience growing until he just opened a Room and approached the kids. The little doctor yelped and followed him.

“You’re that man from outside,” one of the kids said as Law approached, frowning at him.

“I am,” Law agreed.

“What are you going to do to us?” another child asked, arms crossed defensively.

Law felt his eye twitch at the assumption he was there to hurt them, but Law had attacked the people who were trying to help them escape. He wasn’t entirely sure what to say—he knew a thing or two about being a traumatized child, but that didn’t make him an expert on dealing with others.

“Corazon here is a doctor,” the tanuki said, coming up next to Law.

That piqued the interest of some of the children.

“A doctor?”

“Like you?

“What kind of name is Corazon, anyway?”

“Law.” Everyone turned to look at him in surprise. “That’s my name,” he clarified, startling even himself. “Corazon is a title, but…” But he didn’t work for the Donquixote Family anymore now that he’d sided with the Straw Hats, did he?

He glanced down to see the Straw Hat doctor looking at him curiously. “What?” he demanded, feeling suddenly uncomfortable, like he was being looked through rather than at. He couldn’t help but be reminded of Bepo when looking at the small creature, and Bepo had always known Law better than anyone—often better than Law himself.

“Nothing,” the little doctor squeaked before looking back at the kids. “Doctor Law here is going to look at you. I’ll be just outside if you need me!”

With that, he glanced back at Law once more then left the room, closing the door behind him. Law, curious at the tanuki’s sudden agreement to leave Law and the kids alone, turned back to the children. He took a breath and unsheathed Kikoku to perform a Scan.

-----

Once Law was finished his work, he left the delighted children chattering to each other about what it was like having their body parts removed and opened the door. The Straw Hat’s doctor was sitting just outside, and he perked up at Law’s appearance.

“Well?”

“I was able to remove all traces of the drugs from their system,” Law said. “But most of them will be dealing with the effects of long-term exposure. With rehab, they should all be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Law said, slightly annoyed at having his professional opinion questioned. Though he didn’t truly blame the tanuki; whatever Caesar had been experimenting on with these children, he’d given them some incredibly potent drug combinations that Law had never seen. Anyone without the power of Law’s fruit would have had a hard, if not impossible, time treating these children.

As Law had initially Scanned the children and seen the degenerative effects of the drugs they’d been exposed to, he’d been reminded of the charts he’d seen in his parents’ clinic of patients with Amber Lead Disease and the devastating effects on the body; he’d had to forcibly shake himself from the memory to continue working.

He started as the tanuki hurled himself at Law and wrapped his little arms around Law’s legs. The Straw Hats were far too affectionate for Law’s comfort.

“Thank you!” he said, looking up at Law with teary eyes. “I didn’t know what I was going to do for them!”

“It’s nothing,” Law said, lightly shaking his leg in an attempt to remove the other doctor. He was finding himself saying that a lot around the Straw Hats, he realized. He wasn’t sure he wanted to examine that any more closely.

The tanuki finally released Law’s leg and wiped his eyes with a hoof. “Luffy was right.” He gave Law a weak smile. “So, thank you for this. And for saving Luffy when I couldn’t. Law.”

Law opened his mouth to wave off the thanks again, but he shut it when he heard his name. Looking at the little creature, he felt his chest clench as he was reminded of Bepo when he’d called earlier. “I knew it, Captain. I knew you were still in there.”

He thought of the small feeling of satisfaction he got from healing Black Leg’s fracture, from knowing his hands could still heal after everything else they’d done.

Maybe Bepo was right, and the boy he’d sworn to follow no matter what thirteen years earlier was still in Law somewhere. Law had long thought that boy dead in the North Blue, but Bepo had always been the wisest of the Hearts.

“They’re your patients, Tony-ya,” Law said, recalling the doctor’s name from his—frankly ludicrous—wanted poster. “I was just helping out.”

Chopper’s face lit up at Law’s use of his name, but he tried to hide his pleasure. “That doesn’t make me happy, you bastard.”

Law’s lips twitched as he left Chopper to deal with the children now that they were no longer poisoned and headed back to the Biscuit Room.

When he entered, Straw Hat perked up immediately, as though he had a radar for Law’s presence. “Oi, Torao!”

“How are the children?” Nico Robin asked, eyes following her captain’s gaze.

“I removed the drugs from their systems,” Law said. “They should be fine with some long-term treatment.”

“What?” Caesar squeaked. “You shouldn’t be able to—”

Before Law could open a Room to shut the clown up, the cat burglar smacked him on the head. “Shut up, you slimy bastard. You’re lucky Torao here was able to help the kids. If he hadn’t been able to…” She trailed off, but the implication remained.

“Still not my name,” Law muttered.

“Still doesn’t matter,” the cat burglar replied in a singsong.

Law sighed and rubbed a hand over his face then looked back up at the other Straw Hats. “Now what?” He had no idea how long he’d been working on the children, but if his waning stamina was any indication, it had been a while. It must be getting late.

“The Marines called for backup,” Nico Robin said, “but the closest ship won’t arrive until tomorrow.”

“Captain Tashigi will be taking charge of the children,” the cat burglar added, a softness in her expression. “She’ll take good care of them.”

“And our next stop is Dressroba!” Straw Hat said.

“Dressrosa,” Law corrected automatically, stomach tightening at the thought.

“From the maps, Dressrosa seems to be fairly close,” Long Nose said, pointing to some maps spread out on a table between the sofas.

“It is,” Law agreed. “Maybe half a day.”

Half a day to figure out how to extricate Law and his nakama from Doflamingo’s strings.

It wasn’t enough time.

The cat burglar nodded thoughtfully as she came up next to the table and looked at the maps. She was their navigator, if Law remembered correctly. “It’s too late to set sail tonight,” she said. “We thought we’d leave in the morning.”

Law nodded curtly. “Fine.”

“So, you want to tell us what we’re walking into when we get there?” Zoro asked, arms crossed and eye narrowed.

Law opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted by the muted sound of ringing. Law reached into his coat pocket and found his Den Den Mushi waiting to be answered.

There was only one person that could be.

“Shit,” Law cursed.

He had no interest in letting the Straw Hats or Marines overhear this call, so he quickly formed a Room and Shambled into the first space that came to mind: the control room. He landed on the couch in place of a pillow he’d switched with.

He set Kikoku to his side and stared at the snail for a moment before answering.

“Doffy.”

“Corazon,” Doflamingo replied. Law tried to listen for anything off in his voice, any sense he knew Law had really betrayed him after all. “How is the mission going?”

Law hesitated only a moment as he calculated the best response to give. “It’s done.”

“And there were no… complications?”

Law knew he was imagining it, but he couldn’t help but feel like Vergo’s corpse was staring at him from across the room.

“No. The intruders were taken care of.”

“That’s good to hear. I’ve been trying to call Monet but haven’t received a response.”

“She was injured during the fight,” Law said, the lie falling from his lips without a second thought. “I treated her wounds, and she’s currently sleeping.”

Doffy hummed in response. “I see. And Caesar?”

“The clown is locked away in his lab,” Law replied, allowing his disdain for the scientist creep into his voice. Doffy wouldn’t be surprised by it. “I don’t know how Monet puts up with him.”

Doffy chuckled. “She does it for me.”

“Of course.”

“And when do you plan to return home?”

“I’ll set sail in the morning.”

“Excellent. I knew you were the right man for this mission. Until tomorrow, little bird.”

Law grimaced at the nickname as he hung up the call. The Birdcage haunted Law’s nightmares to this day, and he felt like nothing so much as a caged bird in Doflamingo’s service—and the man knew it. The nickname had become more regular since he’d started bringing Law into his bed, an act that had truly felt like clipping his wings.

And now the little broken bird was going to try to fly again.

It would never work.

Law could feel his heartrate picking up as his thoughts started to whirl.

Like he’d told Violet that morning—had that only been this morning? It felt like a lifetime ago—he was Doflamingo’s creature, possessed by the man inside and out.

He lifted a hand to his chest, only to find his entire arm shaking.

Doflamingo was a Warlord and a former Celestial Dragon.

Heat rose in his face.

Who was Law?

Bile rose in his throat.

Doflamingo was a dragon to Law’s bird.

He was going to throw up.

What was Law doing?

Law pushed himself to his feet and took a few unsteady steps forward and managed to round the couch, but his vision spun in front of him.

What was he thinking?

His feet tangled under him with his next step, and he crashed to the floor behind the couch.

He was going to get his nakama killed with this futile venture.

His breaths came in jagged pants, his tight chest struggling to inhale and exhale, and all he could hear was rushing in his ears.

Everything Law had done for the last nine years had been to keep his nakama safe, and now he was going to fail them completely.

Law’s entire body shook, and he curled in on himself.

And now he was going to get Luffy’s crew killed, too.

He screwed his eyes shut and put his hands over his ears as he struggled to breathe. The walls were closing in on him. He could feel the wood of the treasure chest beneath him and the treasure they’d shifted to fit Law into the chest at his back. The lid of the chest wouldn’t move since Cora-san had placed another chest atop it to disguise Law’s hiding place.

Law tried to summon a Room to escape, but his powers refused to cooperate, slipping through his fingers like sand.

Cora-san was going to die because he’d helped Law…

A cold sweat clung to his body.

The deafening cracks of gunshots, one after another, rang through Law’s ears and tears streamed down his face.

Law couldn’t make a sound because of Cora-san’s powers. He opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out except for ragged breaths.

He flinched hard as he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder.

Wait, a hand? Law was alone in the treasure chest.

The hand withdrew, and Law slowly opened his eyes. For a moment, all he could see was a blur in front of him—then red came into focus.

Doflamingo had worn red that night.

Law jolted backward until his back ran into something solid. He hissed through clenched teeth.

“—orao? Can you hear me?”

Law blinked slowly as a voice started to form words amidst the rushing in his ears. He felt the hand return to his shoulder, but he didn’t fight it off this time. Who—?

“Hey, Torao. It’s me. Can you hear me?”

It was Luffy.

Luffy hadn’t been on Minion Island.

Right.

Law wasn’t on Minion Island. He was on Punk Hazard.

Law wasn’t a sickly thirteen-year-old boy anymore. He was twenty-six and one of the most feared pirates in the New World.

Luffy squeezed Law’s shoulder when it was clear Law wasn’t going to freak out again.

Gradually, Law felt his heartrate slow, and his chest loosened, allowing him to take deeper breaths.

“Straw Hat-ya,” Law finally managed, voice rasping from his struggle to breathe. He pushed himself up off the floor, but his limbs felt like jelly, so he simply leaned against the back of the couch and pulled his knees up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around his knees.

Shame started to creep up the back of his neck as he realized he’d let Luffy see him having a panic attack—he hadn’t had one in years—only hours after making an alliance. He’d shown his allied captain how weak he truly was on the eve of taking on one of the most powerful men in the New World.

But Luffy simply smiled when Law acknowledged him and sat down next to Law, mirroring his position with his knees up to his chest. He rested his head on his knees and turned to look at Law.

Law resigned himself to questions about what had happened and was already considering how to reply, but Luffy surprised him.

“I used to get them after Ace died,” he said quietly. “Out in the forest alone when I trained with Rayleigh. I’d remember what happened and then I couldn’t breathe. I’d feel Ace dying in my arms and the fire in my chest all over again.” A soft smile returned. “But it got better when I saw my nakama again. They got easier to deal with when I wasn’t alone anymore.”

Looking at the other captain, Law realized that despite the grin that seemed permanently etched into Luffy’s face, he’d been through a lot in his short years. They had that in common. But where Law had retreated into himself to cope, Luffy turned outward. After coming to Dressrosa, Law had been too afraid to show any sign of weakness around the Donquixote Family, so he bottled everything up until it exploded. And the explosions tended to be violent.

“Doflamingo called,” Law said after a few silent moments by way of explanation.

“That Mingo’s a bad guy, huh?”                      

Law’s lips twitched tiredly at how simple Luffy made the situation. He rested his chin on the top of his knees. “Yes, he is.”

His eyes were getting heavy. Between the extended use of his fruit today and now the panic attack, Law supposed it was amazing he was even still awake. It was nothing new, though; working himself into unconsciousness was his preferred method of sleeping, despite the frequent protestations of his crew.

Law swallowed at the thought of his nakama back in Dressrosa.

“We’ll get him,” Luffy said confidently. “We’ll get Mingo, and we’ll save your nakama, Torao.”

Law grunted a response, and that seemed to be enough for Luffy.

They sat like that for a time, Luffy quieter than Law would have expected he could be. Despite the way Law’s thoughts had been a whirlwind before, they were quiet now. Gradually, Law’s eyes drifted closed, and he thought he might have felt an arm wrap around his shoulders before he went under completely.

Next chapter

#As an apology for taking so long with this one #Have the longest chapter yet #Trafalgar Law #Monkey D. Luffy #One Piece #One Piece fanfiction #One Piece fanfic #Caitlin's fic

[delicatelyherdreams]

Pragma(tic) 2: He Becomes a Trespasser

Pairing: Persephone!Bucky Barnes x Hades!Reader

Summary: In a world where the old gods never truly died, you must learn to navigate your way through the ups and downs of immortality. And if living forever wasn’t hard enough, an ancient evil is now threatening to break free after centuries of silence. And as if that still wasn’t hard enough for you, now a pesky and infuriatingly handsome god is trying to wedge his way into your life. Gods, work, love, and conflict—what more could a goddess need? [Hades & Persephone AU]

Word Count: 4402

Warnings: Language

Pragma(tic) Masterlist

Previous 1: Her Morning Takes a Turn

The sun was golden against his skin, shining on the tan color he had come to acquire after so many hours out in the light. It beat down on the flesh, warming it and relaxing him. His arms were folded behind his head as he reclined on the grass. It was soft and cool on his skin; Crete always did have the best grass for lying on. His eyes were closed against the bright light, the rays illuminating his eyelids and highlighting the veins that ran through them. His chest rose and fell with even breaths. If one didn’t know any better, they’d say he was asleep.

But he wasn’t. The young god was just lounging about, listening in on the conversation that was being held not five feet away from him.

The two voices were of young men, one angry, agitated, and fidgeting, and the other slightly exasperated and amused. 

Steve, a naiad, was talking with quick, jerky gestures. He was riled up, clearly upset, but not quite enraged. His fists were balled up tightly, almost as if he wanted to punch something. “...the bastard said I couldn’t do it,” he ranted and raved. “He thinks that because I’m a water spirit, I can’t get jewels like that.”

Sam, a dryad, was watching his friend skeptically. He tended to be the more level-headed of the three, always the mediator to calm Steve’s need to prove himself and Bucky’s somewhat erratic tendencies. He was the one to stop the two before they got themselves killed. “Steve,” he started in an attempt to reason, “it’s not worth your time. So what if you can’t get a ruby to prove him wrong? You’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

“Like what?” Steve asked with scalding agitation in his voice. “Like guarding Bucky?”

The young god’s eyes opened at the sound of his nickname and he sat up to look over at the two.

“No offense Buck, but really, you can protect yourself most of the time.” Steve turned back to Sam, his gaze hardening once more. “I want to do more than just be a bodyguard.”

“Like what? Like getting a ruby to prove some stupid nereid wrong?”

“Exactly!”

Bucky’s eyes danced with amusement, catching the sunlight up above and shining. He was always finding humor in his friend’s need to prove himself. Steve has always wanted to be the bigger man, be the one who’s worthy, be the one who can be more than he is. Ever since they were little, when Steve was small and scrawny, he’d been taking on dangerous and daring exploits, fights, and anything else he could get his hands on to prove himself. And even now that Steve was an adult with body mass, muscle, and strength to rival the gods, nothing had changed.

Steve frowned as he began to plot. “Now where can I find a ruby?”

“At a mortal jewelry store, probably,” Sam quipped. “But you know we’re not allowed to go there. Winnifred would have our heads. Besides, we don’t have any money to buy them.”

Steve’s lips turned down in a pout. “Dammit.” He scrunched up his face as he thought. “There’s gotta be some other place we can find them.”

“I’ve heard they’re usually in caves,” Bucky chimed in.

“Caves…” Steve repeated when suddenly his eyes lit up. “I’ve got it!” His whole body turned to Bucky, his eyes wide, his lips parted, his body straight and ready for action. “There’s a ton of caves down under. And the queen is literally the goddess of wealth. If anyone anywhere were to have a ruby, it’d be down there. Now, Bucky…” His voice quieted and his eyebrows knitted together, silently begging Bucky to do something.

Bucky simply chuckled, knowing full well what his best friend was asking of him. “Oh no you don’t. Don’t be giving me those puppy dog eyes. You know my mom would kill me if I went down there.”

“But Hades is dangerous and you’re a god, man,” Steve moaned. “You can’t die down there, I can. Your mother will never need to know about this. C’mon, do a brother a solid?” He tilted his head to the side. “I’ll owe you for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t do it, Buck,” Sam piped up. “Your mom will find out some way or another and we’ll all be screwed. Steve doesn’t need to get a ruby to prove himself. He’s just asking for trouble.”

“Oh come on, it can’t be hard to sneak in and grab one small ruby,” Steve whined. 

“Or it could be extremely difficult and get Bucky in trouble.”

“He’s in, he grabs a ruby, he’s out. Easy!”

“No! Not easy. He’s gonna—”

“I’ll do it.”

“I’m sorry, you’ll what?”

Bucky shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ll do it. I’ll run down and grab Steve a ruby.”

Both Sam and Steve were shocked. Neither of them thought the young god would actually agree to this crazy plan. But Steve just beamed at him. “You are the freaking best.”

“I know.” Bucky barked a laugh and rose to his feet, the grass wedging in between his bare toes. “But how the Hades am I going to get down there? I don’t think the Underworld is on a map and has a giant sign saying ‘Congratulations, you’ve reached the Underworld.’”

“Well duh.” Steve rolled his eyes and looked around at their surroundings.

They were in a clearing on the island of Crete. It was a quaint little place separated from the mortals and their cities. Sitting at the base of Mount Ida, the clearing was directly below the Dikteon Cave where the Olympian queen had been hidden as a baby. The whole area was coated in her magic, especially that cave, and her magic did some weird things to the rift between worlds.

Steve pointed up at the cave’s mouth. “See that up there?”

Bucky had to squint, but he could see it. “Yeah.”

“When Hades was finishing up the Underworld and securing it, she wasn’t able to close the rift between the Mortal World and the Underworld in that cave. The familiar energy from her sister was too strong and it’s been open ever since. That’s your in and out. It should deposit you right next to a cave if you’re lucky.”

“Please, I was born lucky!” Bucky brushed off his jeans and started walking towards the mountain. “I’ll be back!” he called to his friends before pushing on to find a path up to the cave.

The mortals had tried to pave paths to the cave, but none of them got very far. The residue from Queen Carol’s aura kept them far away from the cave. No mortal could get within a hundred yards of the mouth of the cave. Luckily for Bucky, he was a god.

He marched right up the side of the mountain to the mouth of the cave and stepped inside. He could feel the temperature drop about ten degrees as soon as got an inch inside and the hairs on his arms bristled. A shiver ran down his spine to the tips of his toes, setting an uneasy feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. He shouldn’t have been there. He was a god of spring and new life; he had no business being among the dead.

If his mother saw him now, she’d be furious. Winnifred, the goddess of the harvest and agriculture, may have seemed kind and gentle, but she was strict and her wrath was untamable and wild. If she were to be disobeyed, she would guarantee that those that opposed her direct orders would pay for it. 

Bucky loved his mother to death, but even he had to admit that she could be way too strict sometimes. She insisted that Bucky always dress properly and in a modest outfit, never permitting him nor his friends to dress in anything less than a pair of nice jeans and a pristine shirt. She required them to have limited access to the Mortal World, stating that they should only go if it was absolutely necessary. She didn’t like them frolicking among the mortals because they were Olympians, and above the humans. 

She didn’t have many rules, but she did have one that was absolute: never have any contact with the Underworld or the dead. They were too dangerous for a young god like him.

Bucky couldn’t believe that he was breaking his mother’s most important rule, but at the same time, he was exhilarated. He’d never dared to do something so bold and it was showing. His palms were sweating despite the freezing chill in the air and his heart was racing fast in his chest. He was nervous. He shouldn’t have been there, but it was too late to go back now.

He pushed on, going deeper and deeper into the cave. The air changed around him, growing cold and unforgiving. It was dark and empty and lifeless. He was not in the Mortal World anymore. Bucky took a breath and took a final step, coming out of the cave and entering a chasm.

His breath got stuck in his throat.

He’d heard stories of the Underworld before, he’d heard descriptions of it, but nothing could’ve prepared him for what it actually was. 

It was magnificent, regal, and impressive. With towering mountains in the distance on which a large mansion stood on top of, expansive fields of flowers, and hundreds of thousands of people milling about, Bucky was in awe. He couldn’t believe how organized and calm the realm was; he’d always thought that the Underworld would be savage and ugly, but here it was calm and silent.

He could’ve stood there for hours staring at everything around him and taking it all in, but he was on a mission. He had to find the ruby. 

He put his head on a swivel, looking from side to side as he searched for a cave. Rubies formed in caves; they had to be there. It wasn’t long before his eyes landed on a single cave carved into the side of a wall, a single river flowing into the mouth of it. Granted, that river was made of fire, but Bucky didn’t think anything of it. He assumed that most rivers in the Underworld had some quirk about them and that this one was that it was on fire.

He slid along the side of the Underworld, getting closer and closer to the cave. He wanted to be in and out before he could be caught. He slipped into the mouth of the cave he saw and turned to face it.

The place was colder than the main part of the Underworld. His hairs were standing on end and he had a dreadful weight sitting in the pit of his stomach. Something was not right about this place. It felt bad; it felt evil.

The young god clenched up on himself, his shoulders rolling in as he attempted to shake the feelings but they refused to disappear. Yet, he pushed on.

It was dark in there, he had to give his eyes some time to adjust to the absence of light. When he could finally see again, he scanned the walls of the cave, his eyes peeled for anything shiny and red. It couldn’t be too hard to find a red jewel, right? 

Wrong. 

Upon further inspection, he noticed that there didn’t seem to be a single sparkly object in this godforsaken cave. Every rock was bleak and dull, only clothed in greys and blacks. There was absolutely no color in the cave. Bucky was starting to wonder if he’d ever find a ruby here. Maybe they just weren’t in this cave. Maybe he was in the wrong place. But he didn’t have much time to ponder that. The sinking feeling in his gut was growing heavier and heavier with every step he took in. He shouldn’t have been there. There was something massively wrong with that place. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

But it put its finger on him.

Bucky jumped when he felt something thin, hard, and bumpy touch his skin and latch onto his ankle. A scream tore out of his throat as he snapped his head down and kicked wildly.

A hand, skeletal and white, had grabbed him and was holding on for dear life. It didn’t want to let him go and it pulled him closer to the body that was attached to it.

Bucky had been too preoccupied with searching the walls to notice the mass of bodies that were starting to pile up around him. There were dozens, maybe more, of skeletons and spirits crawling their way to him. They almost seemed drawn to the life that oozed from him. And, surely, as soon as they touched him, he could feel them trying to steal the life from him. He felt listless and drained when they touched him, and he could tell that they were nothing but evil.

How had he gotten so far in without noticing? Was he that much of a fool?

Apparently so.

The spirits around him collected around his feet and reached up, clawing onto his pants and dragging him down.

He struggled in their grasps, doing his best to fight them off, but every time he shook one off, two more would take its place. They were slowly overpowering him, pulling him closer to the ground where more of them could absorb the life from him. He could feel the toll they were taking on him, and he hated himself for feeling so weak. He’d never been so powerless before, and it scared him. For the first time in his relatively young life, he was truly afraid. 

With his mother around, he’d never had anything to fear. But his mother wasn’t here now and he was alone. And this was the end.

The spirits dragged him down to the cave’s floor and swarmed him, clamoring on top of him to maximize their hold.

“I don’t want to die” was the only thought running through his head, but Bucky simply closed his eyes, too afraid to do anything else, so he could wait it out. It’d be over sooner or later, and he was too tired to do anything to stop them. His energy had been drained. Maybe a nap would be nice and when he’d wake up, this would be all over. Yes… A nap sounded delight—

“Hey!” an angry and powerful voice boomed, the sound filling the cave and drowning out everything else.

The hands-on his body stopped dead in their tracks. It shouldn’t have been possible, but now Bucky felt their fear instead of his own.

“Get your hands off of him!” the woman yelled again, her voice filled with more power than Bucky could’ve ever imagined hearing. 

The spirits obeyed, at once letting go and scurrying away from something—or someone—behind him.

Footsteps slammed against the rock beneath them, growing louder and louder as the mystery woman marched to Bucky. A hand latched onto the collar of Bucky’s shirt and yanked him back away from the spirits. A two-pronged bident took his place, swinging at the spirits menacingly and driving them away. It glowed the faintest blue in the darkness, illuminating the faces of the damned.

The ghosts and skeletons shied away, curling up on themselves and scrambling to get away as they hissed. They were obviously afraid of the person it belonged to.

Said person tightened their grip on Bucky and began to drag him out of the cave, the bident staying in front of him as they aimed to protect him. 

Bucky tried to turn his head back to see his savior, but he couldn’t turn his head very far without being stopped by the hand on the back of his neck. 

She pulled him out of the cave, past the river of fire, and threw him on the dead grass outside. 

He landed flat on his ass with a satisfying “oof”. His hands shot back to catch him before he could fall on his back and he looked down at his body.

His once white shirt was now a dark shade of grey and torn and his jeans were torn nearly to shreds. There were scratches, scrapes, and bruises covering his legs. Little rivers of ichor ran down from the cuts, coating his skin with gold. He looked like a war-torn battlefield. His mother was going to kill him. If those spirits hadn’t finished the job, she sure would. He was dead meat. Steve and Sam better start planning his funer—

“Just what in the Hades were you thinking? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” the same voice from the cave demanded, only this time, she seemed more pissed than powerful. Her voice had lost the booming effect it had previously, but it was still sharp enough to send shivers down his spine.

Slowly Bucky lifted his eyes. The first thing he saw was a pair of black flats below black pleated pants. Looking further up he saw a black blazer covering a dark grey shirt, and further up still, he saw the face of a woman. She was quite beautiful in the way that something cold and hard like a statue was beautiful. He would’ve admired her features but he was too afraid of, and yet so enchanted by, her eyes. Her eyes, unlike most, weren’t a brown, blue, or green; no, they were red—a bright and fiery shade of scarlet that seemed to glow in the darkness of the Underworld. They held him trapped, hypnotized by the brilliant color.

He felt so small beneath her gaze, even though he was comparatively larger than she was. 

She radiated power as she glowered down at him, the bident by her side making her even more intimidating. Her lips curled back in a snarl. “I asked you a question; answer me!”

Bucky flinched and started to stammer out, “I-I...”

She seemed exasperated by his loss of words and bent down to him.

He shied away, afraid that she was going to attack him, but she simply grabbed onto his wrist and pulled. Her skin was shockingly cold against his flesh and he inhaled sharply.

She dragged him to his feet and began to pull him after her as she walked away from the cave. She was beyond angry and that made her scary. The only saving grace was that her bident had seemingly melted into thin air, probably stored in some magical pocket somewhere. She was trembling with rage as she began to rant and rave, her grip never once loosening. “Of all the idiocy I have seen in my life, I have never seen someone as stupid as you. What kind of imbecile walks into the pit willingly? Do you have a death wish? Gods, it is not my fucking job to save daredevils from the edge of the pit.” 

Bucky only stared at her, filled with confusion. His mind was racing a million miles an hour and he asked, “The pit?”

“Tartarus, you insolent fool!” she snapped, quickening her pace as she pulled him towards the place he’d come in. How she knew about the exit, Bucky didn’t know, but she continued speaking, “The prison of the worst souls known to man, the titans, and any monster you could dream of. How could you possibly—” She froze in her steps as if it suddenly dawned on her that she didn’t know who Bucky was. Rigidly, she looked over her shoulder, her red eyes glaring at him. “Who are you?” 

“M-Me?”

“Yes, you!”

Bucky blanked. Who was he again? He could barely remember under her intense gaze. “I’m, uh… I’m Bu— James. I’m James, god of spring, son of—”

“Demeter,” she spat out, her voice dripping heavily with venom and contempt. “Great. Just fucking great. You’re a new god. And not just a new god, the fucking son of Demeter.” She pinched the bridge of her nose in between her thumb and forefinger and heaved a great sigh.

He stared at her, even more confused than before. “H-Her name is Winnifred,” he stuttered out, his voice cracking.

She rolled her eyes. “Same fucking difference. It’s the same woman.”

“Well, yes, I suppose. But wait! You know my mother?”

"Of course I know your goddamn mother. She hates my guts and I'm not too fond of her either.” The woman squeezed her eyes shut and let her head fall back with an even louder groan. “Gods, she's probably going to think I kidnapped you or something! Do you realize what you being down here means?" 

“I—”

“Of course you don’t! How could you? You’re just some young, stupid, idiotic god who thinks he can go anywhere he pleases. Well, news flash, you’re not allowed to roam my domain without my permission. This is not a place for the living, and you’re lucky you escaped with only minor wounds.”

“Your domain?” Bucky furrowed his brows, his steps faltering. “Wait… Then, you’re—”

“Hades,” she confirmed. “But that’s just what the mortals call me. You need not know my name, you only need know that you have to leave. You were never supposed to be here in the first place and you will never get in again.” She dragged him towards the cave he’d entered the Underworld through and yanked him in.

Crossing the threshold, he could feel the immediate change in the air. He could feel life surging back to him as they entered the Mortal World. He could also feel Hades stumble as if the sudden rush of life was startling to her.

She pulled him through the Dikteon Cave and out into the sun at the mouth of the cave. “Where did you come from?” she demanded, her voice low and cold as her hands.

Bucky pointed down towards the clearing where he could just barely make out the figures of Sam and Steve.

She let go of his wrist and grabbed his upper arm instead. “Hold on.”

He didn’t get a chance to ask her what she meant, because she leaped up into the air and off the side of the mountain, pulling him with her. The wind whistled past his ears as they fell, and he had to trap the scream that was rising in his throat.

They landed on the edge of the clearing, the ground trembling beneath them. She released Bucky, throwing him forward a bit before straightening up and glaring at Steve and Sam who had started running over.

With her shoulders rolled back and her body completely in the light, Bucky could now observe her fully. The red had faded from her eyes, revealing a wonderful shade of (e/c) that had red-rimmed around the iris. Her skin was devoid of life and she had deep, dark circles covering the skin beneath her eyes. Bucky hated to admit it, but she almost looked dead. She was unsettling but in a gorgeous, powerful kind of way.

Steve ran over to Bucky’s side, his face panicked. “Buck,” he breathed out, “are you alright? What happened?”

“He went where he had no business going,” Hades answered, her voice agitated and disgruntled. “You two are his watchers, no?”

“U-Um, yes, Ma’am?” Steve responded, thoroughly anxious.

“Then fucking watch him,” she snapped, her voice suddenly growing in volume. “The Underworld is no place for fledgling gods who have no experience in the real world.”

Sam turned to Bucky, his eyes wide with alarm. He probably wanted to say something in their defense, but the only thing he asked was, “Did you get the ruby?”

Bucky could’ve smacked him.

Hades glowered at Sam. “What ruby? Explain yourselves.”

Bucky gulped. “It’s the reason I went down. My friend wanted a ruby and I thought I could find one in the Underworld and I…” He couldn’t even finish his sentence, realizing how stupid it was under her incredulous look.

“You mean to tell me you went to fucking Tartarus for a ruby? A single ruby that’s worth hardly anything to a god?”

“...Yes.”

She barked a bitter laugh, doubling over and placing her hands on her knees to steady herself. “I can’t believe this.” She held out her fingers, maintaining a small gap in between her thumb and forefinger, and a single, raw ruby, red as blood and the size of a large pebble, formed out of thin air. “Here. Take your damn ruby.” She chucked it at the ground at Bucky’s feet before narrowing her eyes at him. “You got what you came for, and now you have no reason to return. If I ever, and I mean ever, catch you in my realm again, I will teach you why the mortals call it Hell.” She spared the men one last snarl before taking a step away from them, digging something out of her pocket, and dropping the minuscule item on the ground.

At once, the ground trembled and shook and a hole opened up at her feet. The ground swallowed her, pulling her into the depths before closing up again like nothing ever happened. In her place stood a single flower with an elongated stem and a spike of white blossoms: an Asphodel.

Bucky’s gaze switched between the flower and the ruby until it finally settled on the jewel. Slowly he reached for the ruby and picked it up to examine it. It was heavy in his hand, beautiful and clear. It filtered the light that passed through it and cast odd shapes that mimicked its raw cut in red on his palm. But it wasn’t the ruby itself that mesmerized him, it was the color; the same color of her eyes. Bucky was certain that that shade of red would be burned into his memory for all eternity, and as he stood there with Sam and Steve fawning over him making sure he was okay and talking about getting him cleaned off and changed into new clothes because he “reeked of death”, he couldn’t help but think of her: Hades, the woman whose name he did not fully know, but whose face had suddenly washed over his mind and infiltrated every nook and cranny of his thoughts. His grip tightened over the ruby and he smiled to himself softly.

Next 3: Her Head Aches

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x reader series #bucky x you #bucky x reader fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanficition #persephone!bucky x hades!reader #hades & persephone #pragma(tic) #delicatelyherdreams #fanfic #mcu #gods au #hades and persephone au

[ohmightydevviepuu]

a good day [1/1]

for the five of you who have been patient with me--more patient than i deserve-- here is the conclusion to my space pirates AU.  to @profdanglaisstuff​, to @katie-dub​, to @thisonesatellite​​ (who was very gracious and did not say ‘i told you so’ when i realized she’d been right about war stories).

this will truly be unintelligible if you have not read parts one and two, but they’re short.  i promise.

proximity alert cell block 1138 a good day

--

previously on ‘proximity alert’ and ‘cell block 1138′:  emma's gotten herself mixed up in a bad situation, and it's gotten even worse. with the help of the crew of the jolly roger, she's getting killian back, no matter what it takes.

~5k

AO3

--

She was having difficulty breathing. Her hand hurt and sweat clouded her vision, dripping off her forehead. Her skin was blistered, burnt--standing upright was a challenge.

But she’d made it.

She’d piloted the shuttle successfully back to the Jolly Roger, sinking back into her chair when Will Scarlet voice crackled over her comm that he had her locked in.

She’d made it.

Federation Operative Emma Swan waited impatiently for the airlock to release and was faced immediately with Robin Locksley--”Where’s Killian?” he demanded--and Scarlet himself, who peered past her into the shuttle cockpit.

“Gold’s got him,” Emma gasped. “I--I got away. Killian, he--” Emma gulped.

“He didn’t.” Locksley’s face drained of all color and he said, “Gorramn it. This isn’t right.”

He was shaking his head and his eyes were on the floor, on the doors, on the goddamn ceiling. Anywhere but on Federation Operative Emma Swan.

“It’s wrong, is what you mean,” Scarlet said. He stared straight at her, his glare so hot Emma was surprised it didn’t burn. “The word you’re looking for is ‘wrong’.”

He turned and walked toward the cargo bay, as if that was that. But the word echoed for Emma, sweeping through her veins like the electrical current, sending tingles to her fingers and toes and heating up her cheeks and she pictured Killian spitting blood and venom at her, whispering poison into her ear as he riled her up--

--keeping her angry. Focused.

Protecting her. Unconsciously her fingers curled into a fist and her nails got caught in the scrapes the lockpick had made in her skin. His lockpick.

Robin caught her wince and gestured for her to follow in Scarlet’s wake.

“All of this is wrong,” he said. “This was not how the plan was meant to go.”

Scarlet stopped in his tracks and hissed, reaching for Locksley; for Emma, time stopped.

“Wait,” she said.

Locksley growled something unintelligible, ignoring her.

“Wait,” Emma said again, raising her voice, waiting for someone to speak and pulling the gun she’d stashed in the shuttle, pointing it at Will when no one did. “What plan?”

Scarlet looked at her, calmly. Quietly. Politely.

Emma really wanted to shoot him.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she said instead. “What are you waiting for?”

That’s when Emma felt the arm around her neck and the pain in her wrist that loosened her grip on the gun.

Will pointed. “I was just waiting for Ursula to get up behind you.”

There was a whisper in her ear that said, “Calm down, sweetheart,” before the world went dark.

--

“She’s pretty. Way prettier than her identcard.”

“Of course she is. Don’t mean we have time for this.”

Emma woke up with a bandage around her palm, hooked up to a drip. There was a lightness in her head; they’d given her a smoother.

“She’s bleeding and burnt. We didn’t have a choice.”

“She left the Captain. That wasn’t part of the plan.”

“You know the Captain. Never gonna miss a chance for thrilling heroics. Especially not with--”

“Yeah. He’s a bid damn hero.” Someone was standing over her. “And she’s awake, anyway.”

Emma sat up and ignored the dizziness, reaching for the drip in her arm and trying not to scream from the movements.

“Easy,” said a man who was tall and blonde and staring at her as if she was a science experiment.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen.” It was Will.

“It’s not,” Emma said, but was restrained from further movement by a woman, tall and broad and beautiful with a fall of thick black hair and a gun at her hip.

“Listen to the doc,” she said, gesturing at the blonde man, and Emma recognized her voice. Part of her wanted to laugh at the ‘big damn hero’ comment and the other part of her wanted to cry, because that was Killian Jones.

That was why she’d gone to him, in spite of everything.

That was why he’d helped her, in spite of everything.

And now she’d lost--everything.

“What the hell is this?” Emma whispered. “We need to get Killian. We need to--” she gulped, feeling dizzy again “--find my kid. He’s not safe, Gold’s looking for him, we have to--”

“He’s alive, right?” It was the redhead speaking, the one who’d called Emma ‘pretty’.

Emma nodded and the redhead--she smiled. It didn’t last long, just until Will said, “For now.”

Robin Locksley smacked him on the back of the head. “We’re getting him back. Right, Ursula?”

The woman still gripping Emma’s shoulder smiled, too, though it was tiny and strained as she watched the redhead. “We are, Ariel. I promise.”

“Who’s your kid?” Locksley asked, but Emma was dizzy and nauseated and in pain and she couldn’t speak. She was nothing but a spiral of rage and regret that fed on each other, expanding outward--at the crew, at Killian--and then contracting inward, because all of this was her fault. It had been her mission, her plan.

Except--had it?

The spiral started over again, making breathing difficult until the redhead--Ariel--stepped forward and took Emma’s hand and squeezed it. She said, “You know that none of this is your fault, right?”

“Except for how it is,” Will said.

Ariel ignored him. “You’re not responsible. He was always going to go, and he was never going to leave you behind. That’s not the kind of man he is, and it’s the first thing he always teaches us when someone joins the crew.”

Emma looked at her and saw genuine sympathy in the woman’s eyes. She squeezed back. It was all she could do.

“Operative Swan.” A man spoke. He wasn’t tall but he carried himself with a sense of presence that Emma immediately found comforting. He was bald; his clothes were plain and grey and he walked as though he was wearing a uniform. “Please, relax. I assure you that we are going to get the Captain back. Tell us about your son.”

Will made an exaggerated show of tapping the chronometer on his wrist.

“No, Will, it’s clearly important to her, and it might give us additional information we need to finish the job safely.”

Will threw up his hands and ducked before Locksley could hit him again. Ursula kept her eyes trained on Emma while Ariel’s gaze flitted from one person to another.

“Call me Nemo,” the bald man said. “I promise you that you can tell me, Emma.”

“My son is--” Emma took a deep breath. “My son is Henry Cassidy. He’s Gold’s grandson, and Gold wants him back. That’s why I--” She shook her head. “That’s why I went to Killian, why I used him, why--”

Emma stopped talking.

Every face in the medbay was on her. Will had gone colorless. Ariel gasped. Even the doctor seemed interested.

“Shit.” It was Ursula.

“Emma?” Locksley looked sympathetic and Emma blinked back tears. She never should have left Henry with him, but Henry was special, Neal had insisted. Deserved his life with the best tutors and academies the Federation could offer--more than the life an always-on-the-job Operative could give him. Henry deserved his best chance.

Emma had no idea what she’d been getting in to.

She had regretted it immediately.

But that was already too late.

Nemo repeated, “Tell us about your son, Emma.”

But she was done with all of that.

“No,” Emma said. “Why don’t you tell me?”

A woman walked into the medbay just then--a woman with luscious, curly brown hair and a pale complexion and pink in the apples of her cheeks. When she walked in, Will Scarlet turned immediately in her direction, as if he could protect her from whatever was about to happen.

“Belle,” he said, but she cut him off with a glance.

“For starters,” she said, “his name isn’t Henry Cassidy any more. It’s Henry Mills.”

--

Killian breathed, and it hurt.

He ignored it.

Killian moved, and that hurt, too.

But he stayed focused.

Emma had gotten away.

Emma had gotten away.

She would be safe. The boy would be safe.

His crew would finish the job.

They would end this.

That was the plan.

He repeated it to himself as Gold turned up the dial for another round.

--

Regina Mills projected a majestic air that carried even across the crappy vidscreen in the medbay of the Jolly Roger.

“A man will die horribly, Regina, if we don’t do this. As a member of the Federation council you know how bad Gold is. You know personally how bad Gold is.”

“Yes,” Regina said, her tone impatient as she tapped one manicured finger on the table where she sat. “Which is why I hired this crew in the first place. He’s bought off most of the council and you personally know how invested I am in cutting off the flow of his influence. But I’m not in the business of doling out favors, and I am in the minority on the council. I wish--”

“We don’t have time to wish!” Emma’s hand banged on the cockpit and Ariel hissed. “Killian is being tortured, and what are you going to do, Madame Mills, when Gold comes after you? Or my son?”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep Henry safe.” The edge in Regina’s voice was sharp enough to cut.

“Regina? What’s going--wait. Is that--”

Emma stared.

His eyes looked so much like Neal’s, and the way his mouth curved--but the shape of his face, that was all her.

“Mom?” Henry said. “Mom! Is that really you?”

He beamed and his smile could light up the whole goddamn galaxy.

“Henry,” Emma said. She exhaled, feeling like she hadn’t been breathing until exactly that moment as, for a split second, everything was right with the world again.

“Aunt Belle!” he said with a friendly wave. “It’s so good to see you!”

“And you, Henry,” Belle said, glancing at Regina quickly.

But not quickly enough. “What’s going on?” Henry asked. “Mom, are you safe?”

The moment shattered.

Emma opened her mouth to speak but before she could begin to form the words Ursula stepped in and said, “That depends on Regina, Henry.”

Regina’s eyes flared with anger before an eyebrow went up in grudging respect. There was a swift tilt of her head and then, “I’ll do what I can. But so will you. You get me what I need, do I make myself clear?”

“Understood,” Ursula said, and then made a gesture across her throat as Scarlet cut the feed.

--

“Regina Mills has my son?” Emma kept repeating it. “Regina Mills took my son?”

“No,” Belle said. “That was me.”

Will’s arm wrapped around her shoulder and pulled her close. “I was married to Robert. Not for a long time, he--” Belle shuddered “--it didn’t end well. I couldn’t leave Henry there. And I knew about Killian, about his history with my husband. It was the best I could make of a terrible situation. Henry’s--he’s such a special boy; I knew Killian would want him to be safe, for the sake of his father and their friendship.”

“None of us knew the Cassidy kid was your son,” Will said. “We were after something else entirely. You being on a mission to go after Gold, well--” he shrugged “--it was too good an opportunity to pass up.”

Emma had a sudden flash of Smee’s distinctive red hat in the darkness. Of Killian’s lack of surprise when he’d seen her in the middle of his job.

His willingness to follow her into Gold’s space station.

It clicked.

“Killian got captured on purpose,” Emma said. “Why? What did it have to do with my son? Gold is a killer--”

“Yes, we know,” Ursula said. “That’s why he was supposed to say alive long enough to not get dead.”

“That would involve being rescued,” Emma said.

“Yes,” Ursula said, giving Emma a long look. “It would.”

The lockpick. Emma’s hand flexed.

“It was the best way to get the drop on Gold,” Locksley said. “He’s got superior numbers and firepower, and, well--” He shrugged. “For what it’s worth, Emma, I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“There’s no saying ‘I’m sorry’ in the field,” she snapped.

Will snorted.

Ursula raised an eyebrow.

Emma did not like being used as a diversion.

She was also not a particular fan of irony.

Emma shifted uncomfortably on the bed Dr. Whale had put her in. The problem was, there’s nothing harder in the world when an operation goes bad than doing nothing at all.

Nemo was watching her and she focused her attention on him. “None of that answers my question,” she said.

“Killian used to work with Cassidy,” Nemo said. “Back in his Federation days, before--”

“Before the murder, piracy, smuggling, theft of Federation property, desertion and dereletion of duty?” Emma said. “Shocking.”

“It can be a lot to take in,” Nemo said.

“No, I meant the part about how it was before the crimes and not after,” Emma sighed. “Neal was never much for law abiding.”

But Killian was. Or he had been, once. She’d seen the files.

“Cassidy got mixed up in something terrible,” Nemo said. “Killian got involved to try and pull him out. Made a deal with Gold but the op got burned. Killian’s brother died. Cassidy went back to his dad. Killian was out of choices. He disappeared, and took this ship.”

“How’d he pull that one off?”

“He’s a hell of a captain,” Ursula said.

“He had help from inside, didn’t he?” Emma said.

Belle nodded. “He did. He had help from Regina Mills. Robert always suspected she’d done it purely out of spite against him.”

“Regina--” Emma’s jaw dropped. “Regina Mills? Killian got himself involved in a pissing match between two of the most powerful people in the entire Federation?”

“‘S how we knew you were going after Gold,” Will muttered. “Regina keeps a close eye on him. Once the Cap’n heard you were involved there was no stopping him. Figured the best way to stop Gold was just to get in the middle of it.” His expression darkened. “Shoulda known Gold had something else up his sleeve. Once you end up on the wrong side of one of that man’s deals, there’s no corner of the ‘verse he won’t go searching.”

“Stop scaring the children, Scarlet,” Ursula said. “The ‘verse doesn’t have actual corners.”

Whale snickered.

Emma pulled out the drip and rubbed at the spot on her arm. “What’s next?” she asked.

“Plan B,” Ursula said.

“What’s Plan B?” Ariel chirped.

“I’m working on it,” Ursula sighed.

“Well, obviously we have some tactical goals,” Emma said. “We have a rough approach.”

“Can you do it?” Ariel asked.

“No.” That was Whale. “Probably not.”

“Hey,” Ariel said. “What happened to ‘no man left behind’?”

Whale shook his head and smirked. “Suicide.”

Nemo said nothing but turned his gaze dead on the doctor until the smirk faded and the man shifted his posture and, finally nodded. “Right,” he said. “Plan B it is.”

--

There was a stash of weapons on the galley table. Guns, knives, grenades; it was an arsenal.

Emma was impressed.

Planning a high-level action like this--it required a certain amount of quantitative thinking mixed in with just a hint of immorality and a dash of spite.

That, plus a driving personal desire to keep it going during the downtime.

Emma knew a little something about that.

So did Killian Jones.

But this--”This was all Regina’s doing, wasn’t it? She used him?”

Will snorted and Robin smiled. “It was, but not in the way you’d think,” he said, taking the gun Ursula had just checked and loaded. “The difference between being on the inside and on the outside--it’s all about sanction. Killian lost his. Found out his partners were his enemies and that the world was a much darker place than even he realized. So he found us--a bunch of folk on the wrong side of the law who didn’t hold it against him that he used to be on the right side. It’s the same for him and Regina.”

“You’re only a pawn if you don’t know you’re being played,” Nemo said. “Killian always knows.” He refused Ursula’s proffered gun and reached instead for a pair of knives that he sheathed expertly before he asked, “What about you, Emma?”

What Emma had learned from the so-called right side of the law was that it was bad business to put her faith into anything she couldn’t control. The only person who saved her was her.

“Here’s the thing,” Ursula said, cutting her gaze between Nemo and Emma. “We like to plan our missions with the idea of everyone getting out. You know, together. So why don’t you sit back and let us do the heavy lifting?”

“This is a bad idea,” Emma said instead of answering. “He’ll still have the advantage over you.”

“Everyone always does,” Nemo said. “That’s what makes us special.”

“I thought Operatives weren’t allowed to have associates like the Captain, anyway,” Ursula said. Her eyes were measuring, and Emma--clearly--did not come up to scratch.

“Lovers!” Ariel chimed in.

“We weren’t--” Emma huffed. “I got a good look at the layout on my way out. I had the goddamn blueprints for my infiltration. Let me lead--”

“No.” Ursula said. “We have Belle for that.” But she exchanged glances with Locksley and Scarlet and then sighed. She reached for the table and picked up two grenades, passing them to Emma.

“This is about trust,” Ursula said. “Captain trusts you. But you’ve got your own agenda just like we’ve got ours, so it’s also important to have honor. Do you have honor, Operative Swan?”

That was the other thing: Emma knew this story--about the bad woman and the bad man. The one where bad things happen and then the woman is left to pine away for her handsome hero, waiting for him to come back, for someone to smirk, and to declare it a happy ending. But for Emma Swan, all of the endings she’d been part of were unhappy.

But maybe they didn’t have to be.

Maybe they didn’t need any more time-outs or codenames or dark rooms full of bad ideas.

Maybe this time, they could win.

“We weren’t lovers,” Emma said, meeting Ursula stare-for-stare. “I love him. I am in love with him.”

Ursula’s face didn’t change but something flickered in her eyes as Robin broke out into a genuine smile.

Will Scarlet just shook his head.

“Finally,” he said to no one in particular. “She admits it. Do you know how many stupid jobs Captain made us pull just to keep us in your orbit?”

--

The proximity alert buzzed on the edges of Killian’s consciousness and his fingers clenched, his jaw tightened.

Gold looked up, his face twisted in consternation before he turned to glare at Killian.

“Listen, if you’ve got guests, I can come back later--”

Gold took two steps forward, his cane raised over his head but Killian struck first, pulling his arms from behind his body. He was battered, he was bruised, he was half-dead, but he was walking and upright and advancing on Gold.

“Don’t take another step,” Gold warned.

“I did a job,” Killian said. “You’re not the only one who lost that day. I lost my brother, I lost my livelihood, I lost everything I thought I was.” He took another step. “Tell me, are you familiar with the saying ‘He who knows when he can fight and when he cannot will be victorious’?” He backhanded Gold across the faced and watched him crumple, his mouth bloody, his arms up as he attempted--poorly--to defend himself. Killian shuffled forward and just hit him again, watching Gold hit the floor with some satisfaction--watching him scrabble backward as the last of Killian’s strength started to fade.

--

“Whale, Nemo, and Scarlet are with Belle,” Ursula said. “Locksley and Swan with me. Ariel’s gonna stay here and keep an eye on things.”

“No shooting until it seems like the last resort,” Locksley said.

“Always with your rules,” Ursula said. She turned to the group. “If it moves, shoot it.”

Emma bit her lip and nodded.

“Will, how are we on the override sequence?”

“Pretty sure this will pop the airlock doors, if Robin can make the seal on the first try.”

“So you’ve done this before?” Emma asked, trying--and failing--to tamp down her skepticism.

“Oh, hell no.” Ariel laughed.

“I guess they won’t be expecting us, at least,” Emma said.

“Yeah,” Will said. “That’s because they aren’t insane.”

“Shut up, all of you, and focus,” Ursula said as the airlock opened. “Let’s go get the Captain.”

She leveled her rifle and fired down the corridor; as guards jumped out of the path of the oncoming bullets Emma pulled a grenade from her belt, armed it and let it roll. It bounced off the corridor wall before it exploded. Ursula called out, “Second team!” and Robin covered the corridor as Scarlet, Belle, Nemo and Whale moved out of the airlock.

Will made sure to keep Belle covering behind as he joined the assault, letting off four rounds and finishing with a shot directly in the kneecap of an oncoming guard. He banged into the wall as Will watched, head on a swivel, one eye forward and one eye always following Belle.

“Move out?” he asked Ursula.

She nodded, never lowering her rifle.

Emma strode forward, pushing ahead of Ursula and Robin and ignoring their protests as she did so. “Cover from that side,” Robin called behind her to Ursula. “I’ve got this one.” She blasted back two guards and threw herself at the corridor wall as they returned fire while Ursula dropped the rifle and pulled two handguns from cross-strapped shoulder holsters and pivoted into the fray, firing.

“Swan!” she called. “Grab the keycard!”

--

The door slid open and Ursula and Robin filed in, guns out, eyes on Gold.

Killian only had eyes for Emma.

She was pale and bruised. There was a bandage on her wrist and dried blood on her clothes but when she smiled at him it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in the entire universe, shining more brightly than all of the stars in the sky.

The last of his strength faded and he felt Ursula and Robin behind him, pulling him upright.

Keeping him upright.

Will came in, gun drawn, Belle behind him. Nemo followed behind, knives drawn, and went straight for Gold, keeping him on the ground with a look every time the man shifted.

Belle caught his eye and gestured, the thumb of her right hand pointing up and it was when Gold turned to follow Killian’s gaze that he looked, for the first time, truly defeated.

“Belle?”

Killian toed at Gold’s midsection, wishing he had the strength to give it a good, hard kick.

“Belle, you don’t understand.” He was babbling. “I can explain, I--”

Killian toed him again. “Shut up and listen to the lady, crocodile.”

Belle’s voice was ice. “I used to--I thought I saw something in you. Something good. But then I found something of yours.”

Whale strode in as if on cue, holding up a small object; round and golden and more valuable than all of the credits in the Federation Reserve.

“Holy frak,” Emma said. “Is that--”

It was a compass; or at least, it had the likeness of one. Most people--if they’d heard of them at all--assumed they were a myth, part of the story of the all-knowing Federation.

“You told me that all of this was about your son,” Belle continued. “You told me that it wasn’t about power, or gold, or about anything other than trying to move on knowing that you had gotten justice for your son. About giving Henry the kind of life you wish Neal could have had. But all of that was a lie.”

Belle stepped forward, five-foot-nothing of pure rage as she stared down the man she used to love. “You didn’t care about Henry, and you weren’t using this for revenge. You were using it for money. For power. That’s your true love, and you won’t give it up for anything. Not even for me. That’s why you can’t move on--you never have, and you never will.”

“There’s nothing wrong with power,” Gold whispered. “Not when it means that I--that we--can have it all.”

“I just wanted you,” Belle said, and her voice finally broke as she stepped away, back up against the comfort of Will Scarlet and his drawn weapon, putting it back in between herself and her ex-husband. “I tried to be everything for you, and I lost my way. Not anymore.”

“Belle--”

Emma bent down and pistol-whipped him across the face, knocking Gold unconscious.

Their eyes met and Emma took one step forward and then another. Killian wanted to say something, anything, to explain but the second he opened his mouth Emma hit him.

Hard.

The woman had a right hook like a freight train.

Killian swore he could feel Ursula trying not to laugh as he sighed, heavily.

“I can’t believe this was part of your gorram plan,” Emma hissed. “You stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking---”

“Pirate?” Killian raised his eyebrow. “And who’re you calling ‘scruffy-looking’?”

Emma drew herself up, pushed her shoulders back, reached forward and grabbed him; there was nothing gentle in her movements as she kissed him--as he kissed her--and, as abruptly as it had started, it was over.

Except for the look in her eyes--soft. Hopeful. The smile on her face as Killian grunted and looked at Will and said, “Well, you were right about this being a bad idea.”

“Thanks for saying, sir,” Will deadpanned.

--

“You sanguine about the kind of reception we’re apt to receive here, Captain?” Ursula sounded merely curious as she asked.

“Absolutely,” Killian said. “Hopeful.”

“Item of interest--it also means ‘bloody’,” Ursula muttered.

“We’ve done one of those already today. Least we can do is try the other.” Killian winked.

They weren’t on the civilized part of the world, that’s for sure. Low hills, rocks and sagebrush in a deep valley with the high towers of the city glinting in the distance.

The woman waiting for them didn’t belong here; her clothes were too refined, her makeup was too perfect. She was every inch the high-ranking Councillor she appeared to be, a physical embodiment of the Federation’s power, and she was watching him with a small smile on her face.

It was not a pleasant expression. Emma only barely stopped herself from reaching for her gun.

“Killian Jones.”

The bow he gave her was sweeping and dripping with irony. “Regina Mills,” he said. “At last we meet.”

“We’ve met before,” she said.

“You poisoned me.”

That was news to Emma. She looked to Killian but all of his focus was on Regina Mills.

“You were fine.”

“I was unconscious for three days,” he said.

“I admit we didn’t part on the best of terms,” Regina said, “But that’s the past.”

“Air through the engine,” Killian agreed. “Besides, we understand each other, don’t we?”

“That depends on whether or not you brought me what I asked for.”

“As Her Majesty commands, then,” Killian said with another flourish. Behind him, Ursula and Robin carried Gold. He was bound and gagged. His suit jacket was torn. His shoes were scuffed. There was a large bruise rising on his jaw from where Emma had clocked him.

Regina’s eyes lit up with interest but she said, “That’s not what I paid you for.”

“It’s not,” Killian agreed. “But it’s all you’re getting.” He held up the compass so that it glinted in the sunlight.

Regina moved, as if to stretch out her hand for the compass. “So he really had it, then.”

“He did,” Killian said. “Reckon that’s how he’s been listening in all of this time, collecting his leverage. Making his deals. But now you have him, and I’ll be keeping this.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll take Gold, take the ship, take it up into the black and see if he floats when I push him out of the airlock.”

Regina’s expression soured.

“That was not part of our deal,” she said. “You know, Jones, that I can take back everything I’ve given you. I can up the warrants on your head. On your crew’s heads--”

“But you won’t,” Killian said, gesturing at Gold. “This discharges my debt to you, Regina. And this--” he shook the compass for emphasis “--makes us even. Gold doesn’t have it anymore. You come after me or any of us--ever--and I doubt the boy will take kindly to that. Not when his mother will be sailing with us from now on and leaving the employ of the Federation.”

It was Killian’s turn to smile.

“We both made out on this deal, Regina. Don’t complicate things. Not between us, not when the boy is involved. You take Gold. We’ll keep this. Emma can see her son, and we will continue to work for you when the opportunity suits. Everybody wins.”

Emma moved so that they were shoulder-to-shoulder and took his hand in hers. She squeezed it and felt his hand twist until his fingertips brushed her wrist.

Regina watched them, her expression bemused.

“That’s how it is, then?”

“Depends,” Killian said, making an exaggerated shrug. “She hit me.”

“Knowing you, I’m sure you deserved it,” Regina said with a smirk. “I keep Henry?”

It broke Emma’s heart, but Regina was his best chance.

At least now she knew where he was--would be able to see him, to be a part of his life.

“Yes,” she said. “He stays here, with you.”

A tension she hadn’t realized was there left Regina’s posture then, and Emma felt herself relax in turn.

“We understand each other, also, Regina,” Emma said.

“Thank you, Miss Swan.” Regina gestured.

Emma heard footsteps; she closed her eyes and caught her breath and, finally, turned.

Henry was racing toward her--toward them--and wrapped himself around her with a shriek.

Behind her, Emma heard Killian say, “Are you always this sentimental?”

“You caught me on a good day,” Regina said.

Emma had been beaten, tortured and used--had broken her own heart, given up her job and her life and fallen in with criminals and spies.

But her son was in her arms and the man she loved was by her side.

It wasn’t much.

But it was enough.

A good day, indeed.

-30-

@quirkykayleetam​

#cs fic #space pirates

[miaouerie]

whumptober 2020 ----- day 4. caged

@whumptober2020​ Rebelcaptain Hunger Games AU: Cassian is Jyn’s mentor in the 70th Hunger Games.

content warnings: none

previous: day 1 / 2  / 3

The Opening Ceremony comes and goes without a hitch. Cassian watches Jyn and Joule be paraded in their own chariot towards the City Center and the President’s mansion on an enormous television screen, which takes up an entire wall of the penthouse suite he’s situated in for Atticus Fenestre’s Opening Ceremony viewing soiree. President Snow didn’t waste any time in getting him booked, but at least this is his only engagement before meeting back up with the District 5 team at the Training Center.

“Kay did a wonderful job with their outfits as always, Cassian,” Atticus says in a lilting voice that had to have been surgically altered to sound like that. “Hasn’t he, darling?”

“Certainly!” his wife Seraphina exclaims. “He always seems so arrogant and dour during his interviews, but the man certainly has vision.” The rest of their gathering titters their agreement.  

“Though I must say, the stylists and Remake Center can only really do so much for the lackluster tributes,” a man with a purple coif says. “That male tribute of yours does not look like he will amount to much in the Arena. Any thoughts as to which of your tributes will fare better...?”

Cassian is saved from answering by the operator of the Capitol’s rumor mill herself, Peridot Starlight—the host of Capitol Spotlight with Starlight. She lets out a light laugh to draw attention to herself before lowering her voice. “Well, Eustis. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen the clips?” She gives them all a coy smirk. “Ah, of course you haven’t. I bought exclusive coverage rights for the Day Zero arrivals, which will be aired tomorrow on my show. But tonight, dear friends, you’ll get the Peri exclusive.”

She gestures for an Avox, and soon enough the television screen’s Opening Ceremony coverage is replaced by high-definition footage of District 5’s tribute train slowing as it arrived in the Capitol. The footage is then replayed at a slower frame rate and zoomed in, and through the train’s window Cassian can see himself holding out a hand to Jyn. The clip doesn’t have audio of course, but the audience can draw their own conclusions watching their lips move and their facial expressions before Jyn takes his hand and stands up. The Cassian in the clip looks to have his hand resting on her lower back as they wave to the crowd gathered on one side of the tracks, but Cassian knows the truth—Jyn’s smaller stature is partially obscured by the window sill, and aside from an initial light touch to direct her attention to the crowd outside only his fingertips touched the small of her back. Jyn didn’t mind, but Cassian knew what the hint of intimacy would look like to the public.

“And, and, and,” Peridot calls over the rising clamor of excitement, “I’ve got the scoop from sources on the train that things were getting a little steamy last night as well. How solicitous. Playing favorites already?”

It’s been so long since he’s played into the Capitol’s hands like this that Cassian doesn’t have to fake the nervousness in his smile; he hopes it comes across as bashful. Whether or not this works is going to depend entirely on him. "She’s intriguing. You’ll have to wait and see.”

-

After dinner Cassian takes Jyn up to the Training Center’s roof, where there’s a beautiful garden with flower beds and potted trees and the tinkling of a thousand windchimes drowns out the slight buzz of the invisible electric field around the Center. It was a place he might have called a sanctuary, though Snow kept his schedule busy enough that he hardly spent time up here. Tonight might be the only night he can talk to Jyn like this.

Although their conversation is muted they are still under surveillance, so Cassian takes Jyn’s hand and guides her to a pathway bordered with blooms. She doesn’t let go of his hand, thankfully.

Jyn makes sure to speak quietly enough that her voice doesn’t carry over the windchimes. “My father was taken away when I was eight. He was the chief engineer for district plant operations, and he wanted to research energy efficiency in Panem. To see if there was a way to eliminate power outages in the other districts. And the Capitol didn’t like that.”

She lets out a heavy exhale. “I haven’t seen him since then. My mother was angry for a long time—both of us were. But the two of us couldn’t do anything. She looked for some kind of support group, but you know the Capitol won’t let something like that exist.”

Cassian nods. The Treaty of Treason had something called the Riot Clause, which banned gatherings of people for unofficial purposes. Official purposes such as the yearly reaping and public punishments.

“But it didn’t stop her from seeking individual people out. We weren’t the only ones who had someone we loved disappear because of the Capitol. She was good at helping others that way. To let them know they weren’t alone... Eventually the Peacekeepers caught on to her. That she had been talking to a lot of people who were angry and hurting. But she had a contact who helped her disappear before the Peacekeepers could get to her. He knew people who could make it look like her death was an accident in one of the power plants.”  

They stop under the boughs of a large tree. When she turns to face Cassian her eyes are glittering—there’s moisture there, from unshed tears or passion, Cassian can’t tell. But he finds himself drawn to her words all the same. “That was almost three years ago. After my mother went into hiding that contact took me in. He taught me a lot of things… everything he could so I could be helpful to the group of people that helped my mother get away. I’ve done a lot to help their cause in District 5. They were going to help me disappear, reunite me with my mother as soon as I finished one last assignment…” Jyn’s voice turns brittle. “And then I was reaped.”  

Both of them startle at the loud sound of fireworks being set off down below; after shooting upwards they explode high above but close enough to brighten the rooftop garden, and the multi-colored display refracts off the silver of the windchimes in dazzling drops of light. Loud cheers can be heard from the streets below. When Jyn turns to look at him, Cassian can see the resolve in her eyes.

“That’s my angle. I’ve trusted you with my story. And I’m going to trust you with my life in the Arena,” she says. “I can’t let it end here. I have to get back home, I need to get back in contact with Saw and his people… I want to see my mother again.”  

“I believe you, Jyn.” Cassian says. He squeezes her hand. “You’ll have to trust that I’m going to get you out. And I will.”

He doesn’t talk about the cost, what he knows it will be. For this moment, he can pretend that all they are is just what the hidden cameras are seeing: a couple taking an evening stroll, sharing secrets in the dark, making promises to one another. Even if half that statement isn’t true.  

#whumptober2020 #no.4 #caged #rogue one #hunger games #fic #sacchi writes #rebelcaptain #cassian andor #jyn erso #the capitol is the cage #don't mind me just being loosely creative with these prompts

[mcrrisons]

wooo hi friends!! s here FINALLY dropping this intro, you’ll now know that i’m late to everything O:) i have insane muse for this type of character so i’m sooo excited to be here! any questions lmk but now ........... *rubs hands together like a fly* let’s get to plotting

@mapleviewstarters​

『 travis fimmel. fourty-six. cismale. he/him. 』 oh heavens, is that WELLS MORRISON from CHESTNUT DRIVE i see roaming around mapleview? minnie may’s always calling them -BELLIGERENT & -CONTRITE. i happen to think they’re not that bad! they’re a pretty cool at COLLECTING UNEMPLOYMENT and every time i’ve seen them, they’ve always been +CAPTIVATING & +OPEN-MINDED. i hope i see them around again! 

TW: ALCOHOLISM, DEATH, ABUSE

GETTING TO KNOW WELLS

full name: wells irving morrison

age / birthdate / sign: 45 / november 18, 1974 / scorpio

gender / pronouns: cismale / he/him

orientation: hetero

height: 6′2″

hair color: dirty blond, some gray growing in

tattoos: a lot of drunken tats over the years, either cheap ones or ones that his buddies did for him for free. most of the actual WANTED ones covered up some scars he chose to ignore

drinks / smokes / drugs: big yes to all, no one left behind - but alcohol and cigarettes daily as those are more acceptable and easier to get

occupation: although collecting unemployment from the government, he often has plenty of odd jobs to make money under the books. 

residence: mapleview, born and raised. still lives in the same plot of houses his great great bought / built years ago.

alignment: chaotic evil (but he tries his best............ ok)

parents: hank (deceased) & caroline morrison 

siblings: 2 brothers (jeremiah & tucker) and 1 sister (addison) that he KNOWS of

children: lane morrison (intro here), and probably a few others but that’s for future plots!!

WHAT’S HIS STORY ?

wells’ blood runs thick through this town to a long line of morrisons, and they sure as hell make SURE everyone knows it. rumors have flown around about the morrison family for generations, eyes roll when they enter a space (at least in wells’ experience) & they own a reputation of chaos. scaring away newcomers just by being themselves. and of course, like it was in his dna, wells’ actions would align with those that preceded him.

he grew up on a plot of land bought many moons ago by his great great ... grandfather / uncle /  (the story changes every time he hears it) w/ a few trailer-like one story homes with broken screen doors & random “antiques” in the yard aka things that people in fair lane were throwing out that everyone THOUGHT would be needed one day. (still lives here btw!!!)

growing up around family was FINE but it reminded him of his destination - what he was going to end up like anyway, DESPITE being kinda smart in school & having larger dreams. the family was scrappy, deceitful; wells learned at an early age how to manipulate people to get what he wanted. he was taught how to STEAL, lie, charm, and how to get by with what they had.

wells spent most of his childhood at his uncle’s home, just a few minute walk away on the plot bc his own home wasn’t ideal. he looked up to the guy A LOT, but hasn’t spoken since he left mapleview for bigger and better things when wells was just 15.

his father, a returned drafted vietnam vet, took out the anger of what he witnessed / how he was treated / how life was UNFAIR out on his family, and often times physically. he wasn’t involved in wells’ life all too much, only when he needed something or wanted to let off some steam. 

his mother was a caring & loving woman, also mapleview grown (the two had been high school sweethearts), but loyal to a FAULT, always choosing her husband to back. 

screams, crashes, fights, fires - you name it. needless to say, that plot of morrison homes never had it quiet, easy. cops knew everyone by first and last name and could drive the route from the station to the morrison’s home with their eyes closed.

wells’ father DIED when he was 19 (although wells hadn’t considered him alive for a while) & no one knew HOW so there was never any closure for him, his mother, his fam... all his death provided was another source for the rumor mill surrounding the morrisons. was it a bad bar fight ? did he have a bad fall ? wrong pills ? some say his mother was a killer but he knew better than that.

wells’ mother is still live & somewhat well, living with his brother in a house about 20 minutes away. at her old age, it’s hard for her to do things on her own and it was decided that wells - the youngest of his generation - wouldn’t be able to care after her, let alone care for himself. she’s been there for about 10 years now and still complains every minute.

ok back to our boy. somehow wells managed to destroy every good thing that ever came his way. self-destructive due to self-hatred and REGRET which never got better as he got older and continued to well, destroy things. a slippery slope, for sure.

alongside his uncle, always dreaming of getting out of this small town, wells was good ENOUGH at school and that was his way. but of course it didn’t happen: 1. he fell into fulfilling prophecy of his predecessors, 2. he had not a PENNY to his name to leave (i.e. gambling addiction), 3. he had a child in his early twenties, 4. he tried to fight the admissions counselor at the nearby community college

having some sort of love in his life. didn’t happen: 1. he pushed/pushes everyone that dare get too close (mostly selfishly), 2. couldn’t change his addictive personality (i.e. alcoholism), 3. began to resemble his father, 4. has 0 emotional intelligence and cannot touch feelings/emotions

to get a job and be a normal person in society. didn’t happen bc: 1. has a narcissist complex, 2. would steal from the cash register, 3. would hit on customers, 4. doesn’t understand paying “taxes”

more to add here

BASICALLY, he’s lived a life. he acts as though his life is already over, there’s nothing to lose, nothing to gain and this is just how it will be for the rest of his time on earth. he’s despondent and lives far too much in the PAST, blaming himself for everything that came his way (but ok he’s not too far off tbh).

although MANY a regret linger in his mind before sleep, his largest regret is losing his family - the love of his life who LEFT the two high and dry just after about a year together and his son who moved out at just 16. the mother of his child was the only person he remembers that saw him for more than rumors, his facade and became a good influence to him - but OF COURSE he fucked that one up and she left. he blames himself big time, but would never show that. only hatred her way aloud. 

his son, lane, left while still a boy just like himself, and it HURT to think that the apple hardly fell from the tree above, not able to be a good father. never TAUGHT how to be one. manipulative to a fault, wells would always say the younger was never appreciative, never UNDERSTOOD... and he’d convince himself that his son hated him as much as he hates himself. he’ll also say he’s the only reason he’s still alive. LOVE / HATE seems to blur so often for the old man here. always did.

the only constant throughout his life has been alcohol. the morrison’s start off early of course, and wells was drinking/etc on his own by the time he was 12. UNLESS you count the bourbon his father would feed him to sleep as a baby. what started off as social and partying as he grew older, became something much more ugly. his body didn’t just crave it, it NEEDED it to function by the time he was in his early twenties. it was easier to hide it then, all young and into a good time but it wouldn’t just last for weekends. he’d need a drink to get by mentally, and physically and became fully dependent. a depressant to match his mental illness.

WHO IS HE ?

he has a DEEP southern accent with a hard RASP that sounds as though he smokes a pack a day (because he does). 

despite graduating high school (i KNOW, believe it), he doesn’t have a vocabulary too wide and will use larger words incorrectly all the time.

can have a bit of an old grumpy man aesthetic, easily belligerent, even though he’s only in his 40s and can be charming as hell too (that smile!!!! ok!!! knows how to manipulate.)

he doesn’t trust the government at ALL and is a bit of a conspiracy theorist, despite collecting money from the government each week for unemployment. he refuses to pay taxes so only does jobs under the books. will go on a tangent about how the government is creating diseases, hiding aliens; eat the rich, etc... he also doesn’t trust cops at all, despite being picked up and taken home by them at least once a week.

grew up on rock and roll! had a band in the 80s where he could’ve SWORN they’d be rich and famous. long hair, tight pants, acting out - wannabe motley crue.

drives (ILLEGALLY) an old ford from the 70′s that somehow still works, after losing his license years ago from too many DWIs. 

i assume all of the town knows him as the town DRUNK. maybe it used to be funny back in the day, but now it’s just really SAD. he’s a nuisance. 

WHO DOES HE KNOW ?

y/c HIRED him for some odd jobs, must be under the table.

HIGH SCHOOL BUDDIES who also stayed around mapleview. they can be friendly, enemies now, distanced, a lot to do here.

a BROTHER / step (which i might submit to the main :))

a ONE-NIGHT stand

a GOOD INFLUENCE who tries their best to get him working towards something better. fair warning, this would 9.99/10 times not work.

where wells is the BAD INFLUENCE to y/c, convincing them to drink a ton, giving horrible advice when they’re in their most vulnerable state.

a STORE OWNER that has banned wells from entering their establishment due to a prior mishap.

a DEALER of all things wells shouldn’t, but does.

THE HILLS by the weeknd - a plot where these two are hooking up or together but only in secret. whether that’s because they’re in different socioeconomic classes, have a bad history, the other is cheating... they have to hide.

WHITE KNUCKLES - they’ve previously had a bar fight, are known enemies. could’ve been something said about his family, his past.

#°。°。°。𝒾𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜. °。°。°。 #tw alcoholism #tw abuse #tw death #ugh yes his icon rn is a dumpster but i'll change it as soon as i open up photoshop and make a new pretty dash icon #but for now #it just Makes Sense :)

[greywritesfics]

Chapter Thirteen: A Promise

The waiting rooms they were given weren't anything special, only containing lockers for each of their belongings, tables, and chairs. After the students were set in their gym uniforms, they started to congregate into their respective groups.

Minori sat towards the back of the room with Ashido beside her. Nodding at the female in acknowledgment, the pinkette began ranting about how everything here was so big and how nervous she was with all the eyes on them. At times Minori offered a hum of agreement but never going further than that. Her standoffish demeanor hadn't deterred Ashido in the slightest, whose grin only stretched wider the longer they spoke.

"Man, I wanted to wear my costume," Ashido whined, her hands fiddling with her shirt.

"To keep everything fair, we can't," Ojiro mentioned politely.

Before Ashido could talk any further, she was cut off by an intruding voice. One that Minori recognized to be Todoroki Shouto. Glancing over in his direction, the male seemed to be intimidating Midoriya.

"All Might has his eyes on you, doesn't he?"

She saw Midoriya's lips moving as if stuttering out a response. Minori had already speculated about a possible relationship between Midoriya and All Might, one that went out of school hours. Their closeness proved to show a connection that none of the other students did, and it seems that one of the best in the class has noticed as well.

"I'm not trying to pry about that, but I'm going to beat you."

Class 1-A's waiting room was left silent by Midoriya and Todoroki outbursts, but before the situation could escalate further, Kirishima stepped in between them. "Oi, oi, oi! Why are you picking a fight all of a sudden? Not now, we're about to start!"

"We're not here to play at being friends. So what does it matter?" Todoroki said, pushing himself away from Midoriya and walking towards the door.

It was time for the Sports Festival to start. In a single file, the whole class walked out of the waiting room and into the impending tournament arena. Ashido wrapped an arm around Minori's, and they walked out. If it were anyone else, Minori would've flung her arm away and state that this wasn't a team game, but when it came to Ashido, she found herself to be more relaxed in her presence, used to sudden acts of affection. But it's not like she'll ever say that aloud.

When they arrived at the arena, the bright lights blinded her, and she struggled to focus her eyes. The staged area alone intimidated her as hundreds, no, thousands of people gathered toward the First Year Stage. A sense of anxiety flittered over her as her eyes concentrated on the multiple news reporters aiming their cameras her way. Everyone was now able to catch sight of the acclaimed 1-A class that had fought villains and won, and the class that housed the child of a notorious villain.

Although the reporters had tried to make it subtle, they were undoubtedly aiming for a clean shot of Minori. Setting her gaze on the nearest camera, she narrowed her eyes. Her classmates' declarations for being number one rolled around her brain, making the girl resolute to her own goal. The camera had only been on her for a second. Still, at that moment, millions of eyes worldwide watched her live and saw the determination in her eyes. There was no doubt she was the daughter of Tatsumaki, and the rumors that U.A. had taken her under their wing was true.

Up ahead, Midnight, a hero known for her seduction, had taken to the podium to conduct the opening ceremony. "Now, then!" she called out. "Time for the student representative: Bakugo Katsuki of 1-A!"

Turning her head in the blonde's direction, she watched as he strode passively through the crowd, both hands shoved into his pockets as though he didn't have a care in the world. For a second, Bakugo's crimson orbs flickered over to Minori's as he worked his way up the podium steps to hover in front of the microphone. Parting his lips, he spoke, "I pledge that I'll be number one." His short speech was insulting to the rest of the U.A. students, riling up every other class. But to Minori, it was nothing but a promise.  

The scarcity of his words was all it took to throw the entire stadium into disarray. Students began crying out at the top of their lungs, spewing insults in the blonde's direction and berating him for being so overly confident.

Minori's silver-grey orbs followed his frame as he already began his descent, not bothering to acknowledge any of the torrid cries headed his way. His blood-red irises caught Minori's eyes once again before he re-assumed his place in line.

His act was more than a display of arrogance. A bold statement, such as his, would bear a lot of weight, and it'd only hurt him that much more if he didn't hold true to his promise. In essence, he was backing himself into a corner, determined to turn his words into reality. It was a respectable attribute, one that Minori appreciated from the passionate male.

"Now then, let's get started right away," Midnight spoke, regaining the attention for the upcoming trial. "The first game is what you'd call a qualifier! Every year, many drink their tears here! This year it's an obstacle course race! All eleven classes will participate in this race with an outer circumference of this stadium-- about four kilometers! Our school's selling point is freedom! As long as you stay on the course, it doesn't matter what you do! Now, take your places, everyone!"

A quick shot of the course was exemplified, and Minori was ready to try and note down any detail that might help her. Before taking her place along with the rest of the first-years, she glanced over at Ashido. With hardened eyes, Minori looked right at her. "Pass," she said earnestly, watching Ashdio's amber eyes widen at the girl's demand. The pinkette quickly broke out into her signature smile, her tongue peeking out a bit as she began to grow giddy, nodding back at her determinedly.

Every class turned into a panicked frenzy as each individual tried to secure a spot in the starting line that would give them the most advantage. But Minori stayed toward the end where there would be less pushing, tensing her body, she prepared for the imminent race.

The cheers and yelling from the crowds became background noise as she concentrated on the light that blinked away, and everyone rushed toward the course. As students began flooding through the double door, Minori weaved through the masses of students, nearing toward the front. Unsurprisingly, Bakugo was one of the first people to push through everyone using his explosive Quirk, but Minori wasn't worried, she'd catch up in due time.

The moment a frostiness brushed the back of her exposed skin, she widened her eyes, searching where the attack would come from. Finally, catching sight of the heterochromatic male as his right arm swept the ground around him. Instinctively, Minori jumped at the moment Todoroki's ice encased the mass of students, cursing as she rapidly maneuvered her hands to create a cushion for her fall.

Gritting her teeth, she glared at the bi hair-colored male as he jogged through the ice as if it was the most normal situation.

Minori's eyes flashed with rage as she managed to focus back upon the obstacle at hand and overtake a couple more students. It was at this point that ginormous robots made their appearance. Todoroki was first to make a move and tackled the largest machine head-on with ease, freezing the bot solid. And when he did, he immobilized it off balance and ran underneath it before it fell into the remaining students' path, making sure to block the way. Damn scheming bastard.

Todoroki's slight jump start proved challenging to overcome, but not impossible as many of her classmates were able to maneuver their way around the robot. Using his explosion Quirk, Bakugo let out a deep, husky cry and propelled himself forward, grinning maliciously. Minori followed close behind him, along with a couple of other students, as she activated her Quirk. Using a direct pulse of compressed air, she shot herself forward with a powerful kick from her feet and flew overtop the villain-bot blockade.

As she neared the next obstacle, she noticed a crowd of students milling around as if afraid to go past. The obstacle finally came to view, tightropes connecting to large rocks with a drop that seemed to never end beneath it. As she prepared herself to run through, the collar of her uniformed shirt tightened around her neck as she was thrown down to the ground.

She cursed, furrowing her eyebrows. What the fuck? Gasping, she scrambled to get up, eyes raking the battlefield for the possible culprit. A classmate took the stage from a few feet in front of her as they balanced themselves on the ropes, leaving Minori in their dust. The problem is, Minori couldn't catch their face because it seems that their figure was invisible.

Minori clenched her fists as she breathed. Shaking her head as she noticed the growing number of students running past her, she started running again, this time with increased speed. She pushed past the students in her way, receiving angry shouts and furious glares only for them to subside when they realized who she was. Jumping on the nearest tightrope with no hesitation, she began to make her way across, running swiftly on the thin rope as she decreased the air resistance around her. Her feet landing with extreme precision, which caused the rest of the students to gape at her.

At long last, she approached the final obstacle. A large mass of sand covered every inch of the surface, and a large sign produced the words 'DANGER MINES.' She noticed both Bakugo and Todoroki fighting for first place toward the center of the field. She panted, taking this time to think of a quick strategy. The other students' shouts and steps echoed onto the field seemingly drew nearer, and she cursed, realizing she needed to do something. Without thinking, she leaps as far as she could, landing a few inches away from a mine, but successfully not triggering one. Turning back to look behind her, she watched as many students now entered the field of landmines. Shooting a blast of air from her hands, she triggered a mine to go off, obstructing her classmate's visions for a couple of seconds.

There's a delayed response. There wasn't much time, yet Minori knew if she went fast enough, the bombs wouldn't have time to catch up to her, and they'd also be useful to obstruct any visibility for her classmates as she'd leave them behind in a cloud of dust. Tensing her calves, she shot forward, racing through the track and set off mine after mine, silently thanking her cardiovascular improvement from training.

Both Bakugo and Todoroki were well on their way to first place, and she knew she needed to hurry, the bombs still ringing in her ears. Still running, a massive explosion, unlike the ones she had set off echoed throughout the field and seemed to go on forever. In the blink of an eye, a large shadow sailed past her at breaking speed. Craning her neck to make out what it was that made such a ruckus, she caught sight of Midoriya gripping onto a metal platform. Widening her eyes in shock, she pushed herself forward, trying to catch up.

As Midoriya sailed past them, Bakugo and Todoroki finally realized that they weren't the only two competitors. They got their act together as they focused on catching up to Midoriya. Everything from then on was a mad race. Carelessly, Todoroki left a path of ice in his wake, one that Minori took full advantage of as she compressed a ball of air for her to ride on, balancing on it like a top, and using the slippery surface, she slid across the field.

Minori sucked in her full bottom lip as she struggled to keep up with the three, she sighed as she realized the distance was too great.

It took everything for Minori not to yell out in frustration when she arrived from the tunnel at placing fourth. The race ended in less than pleasing results for everyone, besides the one placed first: Midoriya Izuku. Bakugo and Todoroki looked equally infuriated at their placings, which had been ahead of hers.

Minori sat on a patch of grass as she waited for the other racers to finish. Closing her eyes, she let out a breath, before a cough interrupted her moment of solitude. Opening an eye, Minori half-assedly glanced over to the one who broke her peace, instantly noticing the fidgety freckled boy. Midoriya warmly congratulated the female, blushing as she stiffly accepted his words and complimented his first achievement.

Ever since their moment back in the cafeteria, Midoriya always made an effort to speak to Minori. She always picked up how nervous he was around her, more anxious than usual. Still, ever since she has forgiven him for being judgemental, something Minori was no stranger to, he stood by his word and continuously made an attempt to befriend the aloof girl.

When the next race was announced, there had been cries of joy from Midoriya and his friends, but the moment the ten million bounty was placed on his head, Midoriya's high from the win came crashing down right on him as every other student that had made it, including Minori, stared at him hungrily.

After all, this is her chance to prove herself. To let the world know that she is here. And she's here to stay.

Taglist: @sslimkim @x-bakudeku-x @angeldraw @alex-hale666 @iambashfulperson @seokookchan @sir-knight-slytherdor​@somanyfandomsidek @namutheestallion @honeybacon @fckngbored @ineedmyownname​ @avengershavethetardis​  @myaaa-xoxoxox​ @httpglxssy​ @coconutxraikage​ @mega-bastard​ @succulent-momma​ @can-i-just-like-it​ @soa1eater​

#rebirth #chapter thirteen #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha x oc #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #bnha eijiro kirishima #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #boku no hero academia #black oc #oc insert #bnha x poc!reader #bnha x poc #mina ashido #my hero academia #mha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugo x original character #is it bakugo or bakugou?? #ua sports festival #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x black reader #bakugo x black oc #slow burn #hero vs villain #bnha angst #bnha quirks #mha quirks