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thesunicarusfellfor · 3 years

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Hello!! Do you think you could do a part 2 of my request? An maybe a lil bit of angst with fluff where the reader comes to the mansion crying because someone hurt them?( Maybe techno or dream? Possibly jack manifold? 👀) Hopefully that's ok I just love the way you write it's so good plus it makes my day whever I read :D hopefully your day or evening is going good

imhereforfan-fic : Omg can you do another yandere tubbo x reader x yandere ranboo romantic relationship please? Maybe where they get kidnapped by the dream team? Oh and adding on to my request can it also have some cuddling towards the end haha I’m touch starved and crap lol but can it a full length fic Okay okay okay. So. I'm so damn happy people loved this fic and I got two requests that I can easily add together. I hope neither of you minds too much having your requests mixed together ^^ I deadass wanna cry from how many positive reviews I've received from Too Sweet. ALSO. I'm a little wary of making romantic fics for characters Ranboo and Tubbo so I'm gonna play with the platonic marriage, just making it really fluffy and affectionate. PS: THIS ISNT AS FLUFFY AS I WANTED IT TO BE SOOOO OOOOPS. AAAAND. TOMMY ONLY TOOK ONE OF DREAM'S LIVES IN THE FINAL DISC WAR

LIKELY TO HAVE MANY ERRORS DUE TO BAD WIFI AND LACK OF SLEEP TW: Knives (+injuries that come from knives), kidnapping, taking of canon lives, Dream being power-hungry, minor panic attack, referenced strangulation.

Part One

Too Sweet (For This World) Yandere!C!Ranboo x F!Reader x Yandere!C!Tubbo Part 2

A few months had passed since you had moved into the mansion and some... How ended up involved in Ranboo and Tubbo's marriage, as well as being Michael's mother. At first, you were quite unsure about being a wife or a mother, but you saw how happy you had made the three boys and realized how happy they made you in return. In the beginning, neither of them wanted you leaving the mansion much without either of them, but then Ranboo started to notice small and minor declines in your physical and mental health. This caused him to panic and study your symptoms for a few days straight, to the point where you didn't see him once and you were genuinely scared he had lost his canon lives to the point where you kept checking your right wrist constantly for the message confirming Ranboo's death. But thankfully you never got it. When he had figured out what was causing your health to be less than absolutely perfect, he had spoken to Tubbo about letting you out of your room more often and getting you the sunlight you needed. It took a little bit to convince him, but once the goat hybrid learned that you could, or even would, become a lot sicker, he decided to allow you to go outside without them, as long as you stayed within Snowchester. You met a man the first few days you were out, who wore white glasses with blue and red lenses, and a headset with a mic, although he ran away from you the second you introduced yourself as Ranboo and Tubbo's (platonic) wife. Foolish had quickly become your friend around the same time though, which caused Tubbo and Ranboo to be a little unsure because of how he made you laugh and smile, but they noticed how you always kept him at arm's length with friendship and almost physically. Sure you didn't mind too much when he gave you a friendly side hug or pat on the head etc, but you were never really the one to initiate the contact unless you had to. Thankfully he didn't mind your awkwardness around strangers, trust issues, or lack of social exposure, so Ranboo and Tubbo didn't have to threaten a literal god. After saying goodbye to Michael for the day and putting him down for his nap, you got dressed into something more appropriate for travelling the snowy lands that Tubbo owned. Ranboo had to go to a Syndicate meeting, and Tubbo was working more on some buildings around Snowchester, saying something about prepping things to attack Dream who apparently escaped from prison? Not sure could've been rumoured or could be true? You had no clue honestly. You trusted Ranboo and Tubbo to protect you. The crackling of a few pine branches caused you to lift your eyes from the icy water below to turn your head. Walking out of the bushes were three men and one woman, pushing their way through the branches decorated with freshly fallen snow. One of the men was your crown-wearing platonic husband, although dressed up in an outfit you had never seen before, although not too far off from his normal get-up. Ranboo had a long black cape with golden edges and a high collar, held up together by a golden chain. His vest was now a deep royal purple with an eye of ender pin clasped on his tie, and his pants were half purple half black with golden designs sewn in. Beside him was a short female with shoulder-length pink hair and nicely done dark purple and black makeup. Her outfit consisted of a thick and warm lavender sweater with dark purple pants. On her hip was an enchanted netherite sword with a diamond-encrusted handle. You were quick to recognize her as Niki Nihachu, the baker who had lived in L'Manberg, but you hadn't heard much of her since the Pogtopia war. Off to the side, was a man you recognized easily as you had only seen him a few days ago when Ranboo invited him to see Michael, Philza Minecraft. His outfit wasn't too different from what he used to wear when he was a resident in the country, except for the black and gold cape and a black mask covering the bottom of his face. Then... The sight of the final male was the one to make you visibly react. A tall and buff male with a golden encrusted netherite

chest plate and a velvet red cape with gold accents as well. There was a rather majestic crown on top of his long braided pink hair and his dark eyes were narrowed behind a set of cracked glasses... His gaze pointing directly at you. Technoblade. Giving a shaky gasp, you stood up from your spot on the edge of the dock and turned to face the visitors. "Where's Tubbo," Techno growled softly, watching as you visibly trembled under his gaze. "Techno, mate. You're scarin' the hell outta her." Phil put his hand on his middle son's shoulder before stepping in front of him, blocking him from your gaze. "Hey, (Y/n), can you tell us where Tubbo is? We just have to ask him some things." "I'm here." An almost unfamiliar voice came from beside you before a hand was placed on your shoulder. When you looked over, you saw the goat hybrid with the coldest look you had seen him wear yet. "(Y/n), please, head into the mansion." Without another glance at the piglin hybrid, you quickly scurried towards the wooden mansion, faintly hearing the worried buzzing noises of your enderman husband in the distance before you slammed the large door shut. You almost ran towards your's or Michael's room in the basement, but then realized if any of them saw you heading down there, Michael's safety could be compromised. So, you quietly sat down in the living room and curled up on the couch, trying to keep your breathing stable as you fought to keep your mind off of the fact that the man who had almost killed you was standing a few feet outside the door of your home. You pinched your eyes shut and wrapped your arms around yourself, trying your best to simulate the hugs you would usually receive from your platonic husbands after a nightmare or a panic attack. ".../n)." "../n)!" "...(Y/n)!" With a terrified gasp, you flung your arms above your head to shield yourself from any oncoming attacker but only felt a gentle touch on your knee. It took a few seconds to muster up your courage, but you slowly brought your arms down and opened your eyes to come face to face with Tubbo, who immediately sat beside you and wrapped his arms around your shaking frame. After an hour or so with your face buried into Tubbo's shoulder, you felt another pair of arms wrap around you, causing you to look up and see Ranboo burying his face into your hair, "I'm so sorry... So sorry... I didn't think they would come to Snowchester..." You murmured a small, "it's okay," to him as you sat up a bit to return the hug for a few moments. Tubbo got up, murmuring something about going to get you a snack and a glass of water, knowing you must've been hungry or thirsty from panicking. After a few moments, Ranboo let go of you and briefly explained that Phil had given him some potions to help Michael adapt to the overworld, and he needed to give them to him. He rested his forehead against yours affectionately for a few seconds before turning towards the bookshelf and walking down the set of hidden stairs after opening the secret door. Once he shut it, you shuddered and rubbed your arms to get rid of the cold chill that had suddenly washed over you. Frowning slightly, you looked around for the source of the sudden cold, only to freeze as you saw the door cracked open, allowing the snow and cold wind to slip in. Ranboo wouldn't have left the door open... "Sorry kid." A deep and growly voice came from behind you, causing you to spin around and come face to face with Technoblade. The tall tusked male watched your expression go from confusion to horror in less than seconds, "It's nothing personal. Really. I just got a favour to pay off." A scream of terror escaped your lips before everything went black. "Hey, Michael!" Ranboo crouched down to greet the small zombie piglin child as he held a few potions of varying colours in his long arms, he set them and a thermos filled with a hot drink down on the table. "I got some new drinks for you to try today! Philza made them a little extra sweeter than last time." The small child squealed and made small tippy tap noises with his

hooves against the quartz flooring before he sat on the chair. He watched as his tall father sorted through the bottles carefully before uncorking one of the light red ones. Before he could pick up the small pipette, there was an almost unearthly shriek that came from the top of the stairs. "(Y/n)!" Ranboo screamed, unintentionally startling Michael, but that wasn't his main concern as he sprinted out the door then teleporting up the stairs and pushing the bookshelf door with his sword drawn and gleaming with enchantments. In his peripheral vision, he saw Tubbo dash out of the kitchen with his axe drawn and bloodlust in his eyes. Glancing around, the only thing the two men spotted was moonlight and snow spilling through the open door. Tubbo ran out without a second thought and screamed your name at the top of his lungs as he spun around, searching for any sort of sign that would give away your location. Ranboo decided to start looking around the mansion, even though part of him grasped that you wouldn't have screamed without reason. "She's gone..." Tubbo whispered, standing in the doorway, the moonlight creating a dark shadow over his wide eyes. "Footprints are leading to and away from the house, but they disappear on the docks..." Ranboo stayed still, a violent growling noise bubbling up in his throat before escaping past his lips as both his eyes turned purple. He threw his head back and took a breath to scream all his anger out, but froze upon hearing sad whimpering. He turned his head and saw Michael standing at the top of the hidden stairs, whimpering and shaking quite violently. There was part of Ranboo that refused to move, but his brain seemed to flick onto autopilot as he walked over to the child and picked him up. "Sorry... Michael... Something happened..." "Mama?" "...Mama... Won't be home for a while..." "Wake up!" A voice growled before something sharply came in contact with your cheek, shaking you awake. Your eyes shot open and came into contact with... A smiley face? "Aha... Sleeping Beauty graces us with her gaze. It's about damn time." A harsh grip landed on your jaw, making you realize there was a dull throbbing pain in your head. "Huh... Dre... Dream..?" You whispered, barely recognizing the white mask that helped destroy your home and turn it into nothing but a crater. "W-What?" His mask was lifted up enough to the point where you could see his mouth curved up into a sadistic smile. "You, my darling pawn, are just the piece I needed to make life easier for me... I just need to raise the stakes enough for them to be... Well... Stakes. I'm sure you understand." You went to move your hand to slap the gloved hand away from your face, only to give a small whine of pain as you felt a tight pinching on your wrists, making you realize that they were shackled together and likely chained to a wall. "What are you talking about you psychop- Ah!" He tightened his grip on your face to the point where you knew there would eventually be dark bruising. "I don't think you're in a position to be calling the king any names, pawn." Screams and shrieks of pain bounced off of the blank stone walls as the two people standing outside of the door put their heads down with their eyes closed. "You still sure he's doing the right thing, George? Are you still sure... He's the good guy in this story?" "You know better than to question him, Nick." "Don't call me that."

(Y/n) (L/n) was slain by Dream using Nightmare. Life: 2/3 (Y/n) (L/n) suffocated while trying to fend off Dream. Life: 1/3

"He just took two of an innocent woman's three lives. Just to use her as a hostage to make Tubbo hand over the nukes and to force Ranboo to follow his orders... He's a stranger, George. This isn't Dream anymore... Don't be stupid." Sapnap lowered his right arm that he read the messages off of and looked in the direction of his former best friend. The screams of agony were almost haunting as they echoed through Snowchester as silence fell down upon the entire Dream SMP. Shock slipped through the veins of everyone who read the message that appeared on their right wrists. - "I'm gonna kill him..." "I'm going to activate the nukes..." - "Techno... What did you do." "I owed him a favour. What he does after that is none of my business." - "...Isn't that Tubbo and Ranboo's wife?" "Yeah... She was my friend..." - "Tubbo's definitely not happy about this..." - "Ah... Atta girl..." Dream murmured in a mock soothing voice as he gently dragged his knife threateningly along your cheek. "Y'know... You would look better... With a smile." He leaned closer to you, the drawn-on eyes of his mask staring into your dull and tear-filled eyes as a stinging pain came from the corner of your lips. "Sh, sh, Relax... They're just shallow cuts, they won't even leave a scar. I'm not a monster." Time had passed quickly, but also excruciatingly slowly. You had no clue how long you had been down here, or how long you had been dead in between respawns. Dream just didn't seem to be leaving you alone. "Now..." He flipped the switchblade closed and threw it in his pocket before tremours shook the earth below and around you. "What the fUCK?!" He growled deeply before the door slammed open. "How did they even find this place!?" The door was blown off its hinges with a loud bang, causing Dream to duck out of the way of the flying piece of scrap. Light flooded into the room as you shut your eyes tightly, your ears ringing from the explosion. Once your eyes got a little bit adjusted, you opened them and saw five figures in the newly widened doorway. "Let's just say... It was an anonymous tip." "Sapnap?! You dare betray me?!" The black-haired male fell silent as he turned around and walked out, putting his hand on the shoulder of the tallest silhouette in the doorway as he walked by. Once you got completely used to the new light, you began to recognize the figures. Tommy, Tubbo, Foolish, and Ranboo. Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo immediately ran forward and started a barrage of attacks on the masked psychopath while Foolish ran over and began to work on the chains binding you to the chair. After getting them off of you, he silently picked you up as you turned your head to look at the blond, brunet and monochrome boys. Dream's mask got knocked off and was thrown across the room as he was pinned below a growling Ranboo, whose skin looked almost purely black from your angle. Tommy was off to the side, rummaging through Dream's equipment, he already got his revenge when Dream was put into prison, this was Ranboo and Tubbo's revenge now.

"̷̛̲̪͝Ỳ̵̧̖͒̉o̸̟̔̆û̶̩̟̍͊'̸̧̺̎̉ṟ̷̰͘ế̴͍̰̎ ̶̤͆̎̒g̶̭̋̇o̸͍̐͑i̸̼̟̾ņ̷͊̈́̈́ĝ̷̰̤̈́ ̵̘̉t̵͖͠ȯ̸͎ ̴͎̐̈́r̸̰͙̾̑͝e̸͚͌͑g̴̛̗̦͑ř̷̳̳̱e̵̲̿̕ṫ̶̨͓͗ ̷̢͊E̷̬̪͒͊͂V̷̟̒͝Ë̸̜R̷͐̄̏ͅ ̶̲̟̤͗͋t̴̝̎o̵̖̐ư̴̞̾̇c̶̡̙̐h̵̹̜̣̒͂̂į̴̙̤͠n̴̤̼̻̅̚ǧ̵̹̙̌͜ ̵̥̞̏m̶̱̳̦͗̌y̴̱̮͒̒̄ ̶̮̈͑͆f̸͉̽̄à̵̹͠m̵͕̓̅͋í̸͇̩͔̿l̷̰̫̳͗͑y̸̡͌̊́.̶͓̇͝"̸̡͆ ("You're going to regret EVER touching my family.") Ranboo hissed lowly before he and Tubbo began applying weight to the sword pressed against the speedrunner's chest. You shut your eyes tightly for a moment before you felt a bottle press into your hands, causing you to re-open your eyes to see Foolish trying to hand you a healing potion. You eagerly took a small sip from it, feeling the small slices on your cheeks form back together and the pain from the bruises around your neck vanishing completely.

Dream was slain by Ranboo and Tubbo using Ranord

There was a clattering noise before two sets of footsteps running in your direction. Slowly tilting your head in their direction, you saw Tubbo with dark bags under his eyes and Ranboo with plenty more scars on his cheeks from tears. You were pulled from Foolish's arms and brought down to sitting on Tubbo's and Ranboo's laps, their arms completely wrapped around you. The goat hybrid was nuzzled under your chin while the enderman's face was buried in your hair. "We should have come sooner..." "We shouldn't have even left you alone in the mansion..." "I'm sorry... I should have never left the manor..."

#tubbo x reader #yandere tubbo x reader #ranboo x reader #yandere ranboo x reader #mcyt x reader #yandere mcyt x reader #mcyt #ranboolive #ranboo #tubbo #dream smp #dsmp #ranboo dsmp #ranboo dreamsmp #tubbo dsmp #tubbo dreamsmp #tubbo mcyt #ranboo mcyt

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gale-gentlepenguin · 3 years

Text

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 35

(Master post)

(Insert excuse on why it took so long) (Insert comedic joke on why I didn't update sooner) (plea of trying better) (Heartfelt compliment on why all of you are awesome and patient)

Okay so now that we got that out of the way. But in all seriousness. Thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy.

If you do enjoy the fic, please Comment and reblog. Reblogs are like Gold on Tumblr and being a writer and posting to Tumblr is difficult. So every little bit helps.

Alright so now lets get to it.

_____________________________________________________________

The nurse heard the commotion going on in the halls. She knew that shortly after Chloé left, things outside the office became… restless. She turned off all the lights and locked the door to the nurse’s office. She did her best to stay quiet and not draw attention to the room. She knew those akuma were out there and she needed to focus on stabilizing her patient.

“I hope that Chloé managed to get that message out.” The nurse whispered to herself.

The woman felt weird pinning her hopes of escaping this place on a spoiled teenager, but at this point, beggars can’t be choosers.

She heard someone approach the door. The nurse felt her blood turn to ice. She refused to move a single inch. She hoped and prayed that the person would go away. She could hear the screams of students outside. She knew the akuma, whoever they were, were out there, and they were taking anyone they could find. Right now, all she could do was pray they don’t check.

“Please… for all that is good… let them leave.” She prayed under her breath.

After what felt like an eternity, she heard the sound of footsteps away from the door and everything returned to eerie silence.

She felt her essence sigh in relief.

She got up from the ground and went to go attend to the unconscious woman in the cot.

“Its strange for someone so young to be so exhausted… but then again, when I get into the line of work I am hoping for, it is likely I will be seeing a lot of cases like this.” Angela joked, trying to keep herself in good spirits. “Society is such a mess.”

Angela checked Nathalie’s pulse. It was present, but it felt off. It was weaker than she was expecting from someone of her age. Perhaps she has a much more serious medical condition. Angela would probably recommend that this woman see a professional when this is all said and done. Though for now, she was stable and calm, which was a very good sign.

The nurse considered that maybe she wasn’t getting an accurate reading, was something off with the assistant’s breathing? She would need to check. The nurse grabbed a stethoscope and moved closer, getting ready to check again.

“Ow!” She yelped as she felt something grab her arm. Nathalie had awaken and she had a firm grip on the woman's wrist.

“What are you doing!?” The surprised assistant exclaimed

“You're awake!? Oh, thank goodness.”

“Awake?”

“Yes, you passed out at a most stressful time. Right now, I recommend we keep our voices down.” The nurse hushed.

‘S***’

Nathalie mentally cursed to herself. She knew it had to be Masquerade. Her little episode resulted in her being far too late to get in and out without issue. She was planning on getting Adrien out of here before things went south.

She got up from the cot she had been laying in.

“Hold on a second.” Angela called out. “You need to stay and rest. I am glad you are conscious. But that sudden fainting spell could be indicative of…”

Nathalie did not have time for this. She gave an ice-cold glare at the nurse.

“If you intend on making me stay here, you will need to do so by force!”

The nurse felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. This woman’s eyes clearly showed intent on fighting. Angela was not a fighter, she helped people, not hurt them.

“You are my patient, and there is a lot of danger outside. You are in no condition to go out there.”

Nathalie had to respect the woman’s guts for standing up to her, despite the nurse’s knees shaking as she maintained eye contact.

“Okay, so how will we deal with the akuma breaking in then.”

“What!”

Angela turned her back to Nathalie, who took full advantage, giving the school nurse a fierce chop to the neck. Causing the nurse to drop like a sack of potatoes.

“Rest up.”

Nathalie put the nurse in the cot that she had previously been resting in.

“Seems I don’t have time to be subtle. Duusu.”

The blue Kwami popped out.

“Nathalie! Do you want to play?”

“Yes Duusu, the game is find Adrien and get out of here.”

“Horray!”

“Duusu! Spread my feathers!”

_____________________________________________________________

“Get down!” Ladybug dived into Chat noir, helping them both avoid the pause symbols and deadly bubbles headed their way. The akuma on both sides of them managed to avoid the incoming attacks they had sent towards the heroes.

“Thanks LB.” Chat noir thanked. “While you are the second person I want to be dancing with. We can't keep dodging forever. Even if their moves are predictable. Maybe those masks are the key to stopping them."

“Hardly a dance, its ettiquette for the boy to lead if it is. And I don't think so. Those masks appear to be unbreakable and impossible to remove” Ladybug said as she pulled her partner quickly back up, both noticing the akuma were ready for more.

“We still haven’t tried cataclysm.” Chat noir comments as he runs and jumps over a trashcan to avoid getting nailed by Bubbler’s attack bubbles.

“Right, but that would leave you exposed. Call it a hunch, but we will need to save it for later.” Ladybug responds as she jumps away and opens a door to block several pause symbols. "Besides, do you want to be mask-less at this Akuma calamity?"

“I was going to say it was more like a Masquerade ball. And no I would not."

Ladybug rolled her eyes at the lame joke, but still had a bit of a smile. Lightening the mood.

"Silly kitty"

"But seriously, we need a plan. If we can’t free them, what can we do?”

Ladybug focused for a moment. She noticed the way they were attacking, it was predictable and slow. Normally the akuma change up their attacks, or at least seem more aware of what the heroes are doing. The akuma were acting a lot more like controlled puppets. Much like when she had to deal with Puppeteer. Seems this akuma had some drawbacks that could be exploited. This was where Ladybug realized there was a way to deal with them.

“We disarm them. Break Bubbler’s wand and I will terminate Lady Wifi’s phone plan. Their reflexes are way more sluggish than usual. My bet is that having so many servants is starting to have a drain on the effectiveness of her forces. We just need to act quick.”

“Alright, sounds good to me.”

“On my mark we charge.”

Ladybug kept an eye on both akuma, after they sent a flurry of attack, they would usually have to take a moment to recharge. Bubbler would need to dip his wand back into his bubble pack and Lady wifi would have her hand cramp after sending 10 swipe symbols and would need to pull her hand back.

“Now!”

Chat noir and Ladybug both pounced at the two akuma, moving fast enough that their foes couldn’t retaliate as the heroes swiped the weapons from their respective wielders.

“Sorry to burst your bubble.” Chat noir joked as he snapped the bubble wand.

“And you’ve reached your data limit for the month.” Ladybug chimed in as she crushed Lady Wifi’s phone.

Both akuma began swinging their fists at the heroes, trying to turn the fight into a bare-knuckle brawl. But Ladybug’s assessment was correct, their attacks were too predictable. Ladybug caught Lady Wifi’s fist and flipped her over her shoulder to the ground.

Chat noir ducked under bubbler’s punch and slipped behind him. The cat used his staff to swipe at the feet of the forward moving akuma and knocked him mask first onto the floor.

“Alright, their disarmed. Now what?”

“Move him over here.”

Chat noir picks up the akuma by his bubble pack and throws him over to ladybug like a curling stone.Ladybug uses her yo-yo to tie the two dazed akuma back to back.

“Let’s put them somewhere where they won’t cause any trouble.”

_____________________________________________________________

“Next!” Masquerade called out in annoyance.

She had gotten her akuma servants to capture as many teachers and students as possible. She had the element of surprise and with the amount of akuma she had at her disposal, it was easy to capture several. Though she figured none would escape and cause panic, Timebreaker was guarding the parameter and kept her informed of any people she ‘Tagged’. Horrificator finished sealing all of the exits so no one would be able to come in or out.

She figured there was a good chance for adding more akuma to her rank. The problem was, most of the akuma sucked. She ended up developing a system for them. If they turned out to have no useful ability, she would humiliate them, have reflekta turn her into replicas of herself and then have Princess Frangrance spray the rejects to turn into obedient servants, this way she had something useful out of them. Make them get snacks or whatever. There were multiple uses for mind-controlled students and teachers. So far, she didn’t find a single one worthy of her time.

“I SAID NEXT!” Masquerade shouted louder.

Masquerade sized up the black-haired girl that one of the Reflekta duplicates had pushed forward. She recognized the shy smile from television. She was one of the weather girls on the KIDZ+ network. That was a contest Lila would have KILLED to have been a part of. She mentally told herself she would have won if she had entered.

“Your Mirelle aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes, please don’t hurt me.” She pleaded.

Masquerade rolled her eyes.

“Let’s, see what the deepest parts of your mind hold.”

“Stop!’

Masquerade stopped to turn to the person that shouted.

“Well, well, well, seems we have both weather girls that go to this school.” Masquerade commented. “What a coincidence.”

Masquerade’s eyes went to the honey blonde weather girl. The akuma had to respect the fierce glare the girl was giving her.

“Aurore don’t.” Mirelle tried to plea.

“Fragrance, shut her up.”

The perfume akuma moved from the wall and sprayed the shy weather girl.”

“No!”

Masquerade felt her bracelet glow, indicating that there was an akuma victim present.”

“So, stormy weather, does this rain on your parade?”

“Don’t call me that!” Aurore spat with disgust.

“That loss still bothers you. How the city voted and you were blown out of the water.”

“I know your trying to get under my skin, it won’t work.” Aurore said. “I’ve dealt with Chloé, and she is way meaner.”

Masquerade kept her smile.

“You’re right, that wouldn’t bother me. The comments by everyone else questioning why you are there would. All of those people wondering what the point of that vote was. So now you have to constantly push harder and harder to prove you deserve to be there with Mirelle. It has become your obsession; the way people perceive you. You need to be the perfect weather girl, with the good looks and the good grades. You can’t let anyone begin to doubt your ability.”

Aurore felt her heart shatter at the comment. It was like this akuma had reached into her chest and pulled her heart out. She could see her biggest fear.

“Shut up! I am good enough! You can’t tell me otherwise.”

Masquerade felt a twinge of annoyance, but a sinister idea came into her head. She touched the perfume bottle charm, her colors shifted to match the color scheme of the Perfume akuma.

“Mirelle, tell her what she needs to here.”

The controlled weather girl felt something intrude in her mind, for a brief second, she winced, before turning into a creepy smile.

“Mirelle?”

Aurore felt her skin crawl as she turned to see her coworker and friend staring at her, a creepy smile on her face.

“You aren’t good enough. You were never good enough. You tried so hard to be charming and cute, but the network thinks your redundant. They were going to get rid of you as soon as they could. I hear they are aiming for the end of the month.” She sing-songed.

Aurore dropped to her knees. Her confidence shattered. She broke down, tears streamed down her face. She covered her hands to cry. To hear her say those awful things, was it true? Was she gone? Was all her work for nothing?

Mirelle’s creepy forced smile stayed, but from the corner of her eye, a single tear began streaming down her cheek. Unbeknown to Aurore, Masquerade was using the controlled teen like a ventriloquist dummy.

“Excellent work.”

Masquerade shifted back to her original colors and grabbed a mask from her dress before she flung it right at the depressed weather girl. She took joy in watching it clamp onto her face like an alien face-hugger. There was a brief moment of struggle, but Aurore was no more. Stormy weather had taken her place. Masquerade laughed as a new charm appeared on her bracelet.

“Finally, some better servants. And these powers are no joke.”

Stormy weather raised her umbrella at Masquerade.

“Oh? Are you trying to resist?”

The akuma’s arm was shaking, but then dropped. Her body becoming inactive, like a toy robot with its batteries removed.

“And there goes the last of your resistance. Now go out and find Ladybug and Chat noir. Lady Wifi and Bubbler haven’t returned.”

Stormy weather nodded and headed out of the classroom.

Masquerade noticed the cowering captured students and took a moment to appreciate the power she wielded. Sure, she would have preferred to have been loved by the school, but being feared is a close second.

Her joy was cut short when something pinged into her mind.

Requirements met for new akuma. Confirm merge?

‘Merge?’

Masquerade tried to figure out what that meant. What was merging.

‘The components for the akuma Oblivio are now available, would you like to merge the two akuma to make new akuma?’

“Oblivio? I don’t remember an akuma by that name?” Masquerade said to herself. “Well, if two people are needed to make it and it is making something new, it must be good. Confirm!”

A new charm appears on her bracelet, one in the shape of a question mark.

"Creating Lady Wifi, Bubbler, Oblivio fusion.'

“I wonder what this will bring.”

_____________________________________________________________

Hawkmoth got felt a sudden shift in the mood of his akuma.

"So Lila found a way to merge akuma with multiple different forms into one. And now she is able to create a completely new akuma. Perhaps Ladybug and Chat noir have finally met there match."

The butterfly villain rubbed his hands smugly as he continued observing. Though part of him wondered if Nathalie was able to secure Adrien safely.

_____________________________________________________________

“Okay, these should work.” Chat noir exclaimed as he opened two empty lockers.

Ladybug removed her yo-yo that had tied the two akuma together and shoved the two of them inside each locker before slamming it shut.

“We need something to lock them in for a while.” Ladybug exclaimed as she held the doors closed. The akuma started trying to break free. Moving in any way they could to bust out.

Chat noir looked around, looking for something to shove in front of the lockers.

“Ugh, there is nothing to barricade them with!” Chat noir exclaims.

“Just seal the doors.”

“Right!”

Chat noir put his hand on the lockers where the doors would open, he focused all his strength into his hands and crunched doors by the lock, making it impossible to open in the conventional way.

“That should hold it.” Chat noir exclaimed with relief.

Ladybug slid down the door as resistance finally ceased.

“I think they realized they can’t escape.” Chat noir eased.

Ladybug got up from the floor. They give each other a fist bump on their success.

“Well thankfully that deals with two troublesome akuma. Now we need to get to Lila before we get overrun with them.”

The two heroes quickly leave the locker room.

"By the way, you mentioned earlier I was the second person you wanted to be dancing with. Who is the first?"

Chat noir felt a faint blush on his cheeks.

"How about we talk dances later." Chat noir dodged the question.

Both heroes hurrying down the hall to try and get to Masquerade.

But after they left, the lockers they had left the akumas in started to shake wildly…

_____________________________________________________________

“Heads up!” Viperion exclaimed as he pulled Ryuuko out of the Akuma’s range. The vanishing miracular was a far more difficult opponent then both reptilian heroes were expecting. The akuma vanishes just before Ryuuko could retaliate.

“Every time we lose sight of her, she vanishes and I can’t get a clean hit!” Ryuuko grumbles.

Viperion looks around frantically.

“Yes, but I do believe we have some interesting intel. The akuma seems unable to use both her powers at the same time. She needs to turn visible in order to try and attack us with those Tonfa of hers” The snake hero explains

Ryuuko backs up, looking around to see if she can notice anything that could help her locate the sneaky servant.

“And whatever its other power is seems to involve using those Tonfa. Call it a hunch but we can’t let her use it on us.” Ryuuko discussed her instinctual feeling.

“Guard my back, she can’t sneak up on us if our backs are covered.” Viperion instructs. “Her strategy is very straight forward. We just need to wait for an opening”

“Got it.” Ryuuko says just as she notices something from the corner of her eye. “There you are.”

Ryuuko makes a charge at what appeared to be a wall, but her sword contacted Miracular’s tonfa. Forcing her visible again.

Viperion took noticed of the poor stance that Miracular had while blocking Ryuuko. He wasn’t an expert but even he could see that an unexpected hit would knock her off her feet.

He threw his lyre right at the akuma’s knees and made contact, the force causing her to buckle and Ryuuko disarmed the akuma by parrying her tonfa.

Viperion caught the weapons and broke them over his knee.

“Well that takes care of her weapons.”

Ryuuko noticed the akuma tried to get away but she dove tackled her before she could turn visable.

“Nice work. But what are we going to do to stop her from getting in the way?” Viperion inquired.

Ryuuko band the akuma's face repeatedly against the floor in order to break the mask. Sadly there was not even a scratch on it.

"Well this mask is durable. Might need to lock her somewhere."

The snake hero thought for a moment. he remembered back to a previous akuma attack. Chat noir had put him in a locker to be safe. He still remembered the playful wink the cat gave.

"Any ideas Viper piper?" Ryuuko inquired as she maintained her hold on the akuma.

"Huh? Oh right. Why not take to the locker room and throw her into a locker. She isn't super strong so we could easily just toss her in and lock it. Also, what is with the nickname?"

"I heard that giving people nicknames helps endear people to you."

"Okay, well you can keep trying, but I don't play pipes. What other ones do you have."

"... That was the only one I had... Ill try and come up with more as we go."

"Looking forward to it ... Dra-girl"

Ryuuko paused to look at him as she stood up with the akuma.

"Yea... It felt wrong as soon as I said it. Lets just go."

_____________________________________________________________

Chloé had given most of the akuma she encountered the slip. Not from expert hiding of fighting skill, she simply walked passed them. A normal individual would realize how amazing it was that as long as you don’t freak out, the akuma basically don’t notice. But to Chloé, it felt insulting. Did the akuma seriously believe she was not worth chasing?

“Un-be-lievable.” Chloé huffed. “Most of these akuma would have been chasing me like crazy by now.”

She grumbled to herself as she made it to the front entrance, which she realized had been slimed on.

“EWW, they got that nasty slime monster on their side.”

The mayor’s daughter felt a mix of disgust and annoyance. With this door sealed, she would need to get to one of the other exits, on the other side of the school.

“This would be a really good time for Ladybug to show up and let me be Queen bee.” Chloé stated aloud.

But the area she was in was practically empty.

“Figures.” Chloé sighed. “Why do these gross rejects always have to make things so annoying!”

Unfortunately for her, her complaints did attract some attention from a group of Reflekta copies roaming the halls.

“We order you to come with us!” The three reflektas sang in unison. Chloé didn’t know or care if the original was among them.

“How about no.” Chloé scoffed. She pushed one of them down and walked past them. The other two rushed to her to capture her. But Chloé easily knocked both of the reflektas down easy. The servants were not use to walking in heels. They may be controlled, but Chloé can tell when an amateur walking in gaudy heels from a mile away.

“You 3 need to learn how to walk and a lesson on fashion before you can even THINK of taking me hostage.” Chloé flipped her hair and smugly continued walking, as the three reflektas tried to get up.

Hidden from view, hiding in what appeared to be an abandoned janitor’s cleaning cart, an old man popped his head out slightly.

“Ladybug does need all the help she could get right now…But would she be the right choice?”

_____________________________________________________________ (End of Part 36.)

What other akuma will be joining Masquerade's ranks?

Will Ladybug and Chat noir be able to face the old and new threats?

Will Mayura cause more problems or solve em?

Also, what do you think this new akuma fusion will look like?

I would love to see your takes.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #ml soulmate survey #soulmate survey #ml fic #ml fanfic #miraculous fanfic #ss fic #ml au #slight lukagami #chloé bourgeois #masquerade akuma #fan akuma #drama #action #new akuma #ladynoig #ladybug #chat noir

495 notes · View notes

imma-potatoo · 3 years

Note

For the bthb, may I request Logan and U!Patton with Thrown Down The Stairs? Maybe with some Remus or Janus comfort later? Idk, I just like your writing style and am crazy for Logan angst.

@badthingshappenbingo

Send me a prompt with a character! Please specify ships! No romantic prinxeity, r*mr*m or U!Janus and U!Logan please!

You wanted Logan angst? You got Logan angst~

Prompt: thrown down the stairs.

Warnings: U!Patton, blood, gore, choking, scratching at throat, concussion, thrown down stairs, pinning, graphic abuse, punching, slapping, ask to tag

(I'm really sorry this took so long. Wifi problems and family shit)

-----

Love

----

Logan walked out of his room, humming a small song (Crofters the Musical, but that was only for him to know) dress shoes clicking softly on the wooden floors while he skimmed over the book in his hands. The mindscape was just as bustling as usual, he could hear Janus lecturing Remus in the darker half of the mind about how stealing Roman’s sword and turning it into a dagger was inappropriate and that he’ll have to make Roman a new one. Roman himself was sulking in his room playing Burn from Hamilton on loop because “Remus is dead to me like Hamilton was dead to Eliza”…. Logan didn’t get it. Virgil’s music was turned on max; like always but this time he was trying to drown out Roman’s complaints with My Chemical Romance. Patton was most likely baking in the kitchen once again.

Logan flipped open to the page he left off on; he had just started this book so he wasn’t too far in. He couldn’t help the grin that spread on his face as he started to read,

The person who was supposed to love me the hardest-the most unconditionally-has always wanted me gone. No matter how hard I tried to be perfect. Now, this boy-who knows all my imperfections and has seen all my hurt laid bare-wants me to sta- Logan’s reading was interrupted by a door clicking open.

Logan looked up to see Patton closing his bedroom door. An ear to ear grin plastered on his face, it was a little too much teeth for his comfort. Patton locked eyes with the blue side, “Hiya kiddo!”

Logan slipped his bookmark back into the thin pages, “Greetings Patton.” Logan waited for a second or two for Patton to walk beside him; after all, when someone comes out of their door, you have to wait for the other to join you on your walk.

And Patton did, they started towards the staircase; Logan tracing the book pages with his fingers. “So! Where ya headed kiddo?!” Logan had always thought Patton was a little too cheery for his tastes, but that was just the father’s personality, he couldn’t change that.

“I’m headed to the imagination to read,” for a brief second, Logan forgot who I was talking to, “It's actually quite an interesting book! The Dangerous Art of Blending In is considered a must-read for pride month and is based on the author's true story,” Logan continued to talk; eyes twinkling with excitement and pure joy as he went on to explain the main character’s arc so far.

The blue side steeled his expression to his happy grin, “That sounds interesting kiddo! Can I see it?”

Logan grew stiff, but continued walking with Patton until they made it to the top of the stairs, Logan shifted his eyes downward and handed the book to Patton. Morality swiped the book straight out of Logan’s hands, he pulled it open to a random page and started to read. Logan watched in horror as the older side’s expression shifted from mild curiosity to confusion, to disgust, and finally to anger.

“Why are you reading these horrible things, Logan?” Patton’s smile was gone, eyes cold and disapproving as he stared into Logan’s eyes. “This is something Remus would read. Why. Are. You. Reading. It.” Patton stood tall, teeth formed into a sneer as he stepped closer.

Logan took a small step backward, “I-I-”

“Shut up.” Logan hit the wall when Patton hissed through his teeth, “Come on Lo-Lo! If you read stuff like this, you’re just as bad as Remus and Janus! You don’t want to be like them, do you?” Patton was inches away from Logan’s face. His breath hot on his skin, raising the hair on the back of his neck.

Logan gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. “W-well, I thought that Even and Henry’s story was a sweet story about overcoming hardships, even when you’re put in a bad si-” The stinging pain of Patton’s hand hitting his face stopped him in his tracks. Tears leaked down as Logan raised his hand to his cheek.

Logan looked at Patton with wide eyes, “y-yo-” The blunt end of a punch struck his face, Logan could only stand in shock as he felt his lip start to leak crimson, “Patton stop!”

The so-called father pushed his hand against Logan’s neck, keeping him in place even while Logan clawed at his hand and own throat, attempting to pry Patton off. His nails dug into his flesh, small warm droplets of blood pricking out of the skin as Patton tightened his hold.

“You, Lo-Lo-Bear, need to learn when to shut up~” Logan was sure that his neck was going to be bruised, all he could do was wheeze a suffocated breath in response. Patton applied his sugar-sweet smile once more, looking into Logan’s eyes with a twisted fascination.

Logan attempted to speak, he knew that he couldn’t. But words were his weapon. Without his voice he was helpless, and he refused to give in to the father figure’s torment. Patton had always been particularly touchy, touching them when it wasn’t necessary. Hands grazing over their shoulders or swiping things from their hand to look it over. Patton had also always been particularly violent. Pushing them against walls over little things and whispering threats. It didn’t make these situations any less terrifying though. And this was the first time Patton had taken it this far.

Logan’s hands were covered in blood. His blood. Gore covered his fingers and Patton’s hand, a few small beads hitting the floor; as well as Patton’s cartoon-themed sneakers. Long thin scratches ran up and down his neck, his nails had thick pieces of skin underneath the nails.

Patton raised an eyebrow at the side’s attempt to pry him off, he huffed a breath and let go of Logan’s neck.

Logic fell against the wall, hands immediately wrapping around the sluggish bleeding at his neck, Logan breathed in short ragged breaths eyes wide and staring at the floor. Breathing in the sweet addiction of oxygen.

Patton smiled, eyes skewed shut while the side on the floor held himself tightly. “There! Didn’t you learn your lesson kiddo?” Patton waited a second or two for Logan to respond, his breathing calm and steady as he swirled the crimson liquid on his hand. “Right kiddo?” Patton bore his cold eyes onto the crumbled side, he barely waited a second before seizing Logan’s wrist and pulling him to his feet.

The cyan side held Logan by his tie, right in front of the staircase. Logan could barely process anything before the side in front of him smiled, locking his eyes. And then, he let go and pushed Logan down the steps.

Logan fell, hitting almost every stair on his way down. He could feel his blood vessels burst as his arms scraped on the wooden railing, splinters indenting into his flesh. His head spun when it hit the stairs, glasses flying off. Logan could barely tell what was happening to him as he hit his head repeatedly, he knew that he heard a crunch from his left arm and right leg when he hit the bottom landing.

Logan laid on his face, breathing hard and rapidly. His mind was fogged over, no coherent thought could pass through as the ringing sound that suddenly plagued his mind filled his senses. He couldn’t hear his father figure climb down the steps, taking care to step over the blood spatters that covered them.

Patton poked Logan in the ribs with his shoe, giggling when the side groaned in pain. “You really should be more careful kiddo! Stairs can be pretty dangerous you know!” The cyan side took one last look at his victim before pulling Logan’s book from his pocket.

Patton opened the book to its center point, before grabbing each side of the novel and ripping it in half. Pages floated down like butterfly wings, gracefully falling as they surrounded the broken side in bitter mockery of the book. Patton threw what was remaining of the book onto Logan, his demeanor just as peppy and upbeat as ever, even while covered in another’s blood.

“You really need to be more careful with your possessions, Logic, such a tragedy, you know I love a good book.” Patton walked back up the staircase to his bedroom, while Welcome to the Black Parade blasted from Virgil’s speakers, Logan barely responded to the father figments door slamming.

Logan had no idea of how long he let his blood stain the carpet, but his mind grew even fuzzier as the room grew black. He allowed the sweet bliss of sleep to cloud his function telling him to stay awake. He closed his eyes, only to have someone shake him.

“-GAN! LOGAN WAKE UP!” The panicked voice of the deceitful side flooded his head, he tried to force his eyes open; muscles spasming. “There we go! Come on starlight! Stay awake! Remus is coming back with the medkit! Just stay with me!” Logan followed his voice, the smoothness and composed attitude of the yellow side was gone. Logan hated seeing the silver-tongued side like that.

“I-I see you have a copy of The Dangerous Art of Blending In! It’s such a good book right! I l-ove how the author wrote Henry! Don’t you? Come on Logan, stay awake!” Logan looked into the terrified side’s eyes. The enchanting yellow and brown eyes kept his focus even if they were clouded in fear, he wondered why he never noticed the flecks of green surrounding the slivered pupil before.

“I GOT THE MEDKIT!” The horse voice of Remus broke his concentration on the pretty eyes, why did everyone call Janus a monster anyway? Was it the scales? Logan could only wonder as the two dark sides hastily applied the first aid. Voices scared and rushed as they faded into the background, Logan could only focus on how Remus’ mustache was perfectly curled into its position, even when it was soaked in tears. Tears? Why were they crying? Patton said that they were monsters, and monsters don’t cry. Then again, monsters don’t help people either…

Logan watched the two sides dig into the kit as fast as they could. Janus even removed his gloves.

Logan gazed at them tiredly, mouth lightly sagged open, “There we go! I think we can move him now Jan!” “Good! Let’s get him out of here before Patton comes back, I think he did this…”

Logan could feel his body raising to meet the ruffles of Remus’ tunic. The small teeth that embellished the ends of the fasteners rubbed against his shoulder. He didn’t have the energy to make any noise as the two sides took him back to their side.

He doubted he would ever return to the picture-perfect family he once belonged to ever again. He had his actual family, ready to help him through everything.

Janus bought him a new copy of his book too.

86 notes · View notes

icefire149 · 3 years

Text

An Angel’s Vow

Chapter Five (Read on ao3 | Read from the beginning)

Once the kitchen was clean, Claire put her other duffle bag on the table. She unzipped it. “It’s not much, but it works.”

Cas took everything out of the bag and examined it carefully. The bag contained: a machete, some silver bullets but no gun, a pouch of silver coins, an iron crowbar, a lock pick set, a coin Claire thinks is iron, a couple bottles of holy water, some spray paint, a half empty container of salt, a box of penguin band-aids, cleaning alcohol, and an angel sword. Cas frowned. “This is abysmal.”

Defensive, Claire crossed her arms. “The sword is basically a hunting equivalent to a Swiss army knife.”

“I don’t understand what military grade Swiss cutlery has to do with anything, but I do know hunting. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Oh, so here we go! Hit me with the speech.”

Cas turned around bewildered. “What are you talking about? There’s no speech.”

“So you’re not gonna tell me that I’m being stupid and I should go live a normal life?”

“I’m not going to yell at you or tell you what to do.” Cas tried to keep his voice even. “Am I happy that you’re hunting? No. Am I frustrated that you’re hunting by yourself? Absolutely. But it’s your life and I promised to keep you safe.”

Claire rolled her eyes with her whole body. She went over to the refrigerator and snagged a juice box out. With a loud pop, she stabbed the straw in.

Sighing, Cas put his hands on the table. He looked over Claire’s hunting supplies again. “I don’t think you understand.” His voice came out much softer than before.

The juice box was half way to Claire’s mouth when she froze.

“I know you’re not going to stop now that your mind is set. I want to help you be a better hunter.”

“What?”

Cas looked over his shoulder, and studied Claire. Obviously, she was grown by human standards, but he could still clearly see the small child he devastated…..is continuing to jeopardize. His chest started feeling unnaturally tight. For a moment he thought that he could still see the baby from the shreds of Jimmy’s memory that remains with him. “I’m willing to share my knowledge of the supernatural with you. Afterwards if you’re still willing to be a hunter at least you’ll be better informed about what you’re signing up for.”

“Are you serious?” Claire tilted her head, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “How are we supposed to hunt with the kid?”

“We’re not hunting. We’re studying.”

Claire’s whole body drooped. “Studying what? I can’t imagine where you have lore books stashed here. This house is pretty bare bones.”

“Lore books would be nice, but I have a library right up here.” He touched his temple with his index finger. “And besides we have a ton of ground to cover before thinking about hunts.”

“It’s not like I haven’t been on a couple hunts already.”

“Yeah, but do you have the exorcism chant memorized? Or recorded? Can you make hex bags? Draw various devil traps? Read any Latin or Enochian? Tracking spells? Draw angel banishing-”

“Okay!” Claire burst. She put the juice box down on the table. Her voice softened. “Okay, I get it.”

Cas nodded. “Would you be interested in learning any of that?”

“You’re seriously willing to teach me any of that?”

“Of course. I want you to be safe, and I want you to be happy.”

The next thing Cas knew, he was trapped in a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you,” Claire mumbled into his chest. She let go just as fast and sat in the chair she used earlier during lunch.

Cas pushed the juice box into her reach. She took it and started drinking. He smiled, feeling the tension loosen in his shoulders.

“So….” Claire spoke with the straw still in the corner of her mouth. “When does hunter school start, professor angel?”

“We could probably start tomorrow. Does that mean you’re planning on staying for a while?”

Sitting up straight, Claire’s expression morphed from jovial to serious. “Is that okay? Is it even safe with…”

They both glanced towards the living room for a moment. Cas crossed his arms. “Of course it’s okay. You’re free to come and go as much as you please.” He sighed, uncharacteristically running a hand through his hair. “But your second question...I honestly don’t know. And that frightens me.”

Cas pulled the chair closest to him and sat down. “You’re not safe if you leave now.” He gestured at her hunting supplies on the table. “I know Heaven is after Jack. I’ve been careful to keep us hidden, but it’s not without flaws. Jack’s birth should have attracted a ton of attention. I’m shocked we haven’t been discovered yet.”

“You’ve been doing good so far. Maybe they won’t find you,” Claire said, leaning her elbows on the table. She rested the side of her face in the palm of her hand.

“They will at some point….I just wish I knew what’s taking them so long. I feel like I’m missing something.”

“Is there any kind of warding we could put up? Spells?”

Cas smiled softly. “Angel warding would be useless in this situation. Yes, it would keep Heaven away from this house, but it would also keep me and Jack out.”

“So what have you done?”

“After Jack was born….the moment we could flee, I etched Enochian sigils into his ribs to hide him from every angel.” Cas subconsciously rubbed a hand over the tattoo on his side. “My body is hidden from angels in a similar way.”

Stunned, Claire stared at Cas in silent horror.

“Actually that reminds me-” Cas turned his whole body towards in Claire’s direction. “I wanted to give you those sigils as well for protection.”

Claire slowly leaned away in her chair. “Why….would I need protection from angels?”

Cas’ eyebrows furrowed. “There’s always a chance you might stumble into an angel related case, but most importantly you should be hidden from them in case anyone remembers your ties to me. You’re important.”

“Because I can function as your vessel?”

“That does put you in a lot of danger.”

Her whole body drooped as she sighed. “Great.”

“At this point I doubt that there are any angels that remember which bloodline begets my vessels, but I’d rather err on the side of caution.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No. You’ll never notice it.”

She nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Cas got up and positioned himself to stand directly behind her. Claire closed her eyes. He placed his hands on the top of both of her shoulders for a few seconds, and then he went back to his chair.

Claire opened her eyes. “You didn’t do anything?”

“I did and it’s done.”

She burst out of her chair, running her hands down her arms and looking over her body. “Everything looks the same.”

Cas smiled fondly. “Your ribs. You won’t be able to see anything without an x-ray.”

Her eyes snapped back up at him, wide with curiosity. “That was so cool! I can’t feel a difference.” She sat back down again. “What does the warding look like?”

“Oh.” Cas sat up straighter and glanced around the room. “I can draw them out for you, but…” He frowned. “We’re going to need to buy some pens and paper.”

That pulled a laugh out of Claire. “Figures. We need to go school supply shopping.”

Confused, Cas turned his head to the side just a bit. Then it clicked. “Yeah. We’ll need to go supply shopping.”

“So the warding will be enough to keep us hidden while we’re shopping?”

Cas sat back in the chair. “Technically, yes. The reason why it isn’t perfect is how angels communicate.” He touched the side of his forehead for a moment. “Dean calls it Angel Radio. I can turn it off when I want to, but in general angels can contact and find each other through our minds.”

Claire stared at him for several silent moments while his words processed, and then the gears turned. She glanced towards the living room.

“I don’t know if he’s connected,” Cas said simply. “And I don’t want to reach out to him that way until he’s older….and understands.”

“Huh.” Crossing her arms, Claire turned back towards Cas. “He’s really got us in a pickle.”

The puzzled look on Cas’ face was evident, but he chose to nod instead. Claire cracked a smile. “Hopefully Heaven is too scared of the idea of Jack that they’ll keep their distance.”

“Hopefully.”

After a quiet pause. “Sooo...does this place have decent WiFi?”

“I believe so. Kelly was frequently on her laptop.”

“Excellent.” Claire’s smile widened. “You wanna watch a movie?”

Cas’ expression softened. “I’d like that greatly.”

“Be right back then,” Claire said hopping up and leaving the room. On her way through the house she glanced at Jack sound asleep in his play pen. He was on his back, and the foot of a stuffed lion toy was clenched in his tiny fist. Amused, Claire shook her head and continued upstairs to her other duffle bag.

It was only a minute or two later when she descended down the stairs with her laptop charger clunking into each step. “Is there anything in particular that-”

Her voice cut off seeing the pained look on Cas’ face. He was seated on the living room couch, but he looked miles away. “Cas?”

Startled, his whole body uncharacteristically flinched. His blue eyes looked dull and sad. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you coming.”

Claire slowly walked over to the couch and put the laptop down at the opposite end. “Are you okay? You look sick.” She kicked the charger cord to the side and sat down on the middle cushion.

“I’m fine.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Wanna try that again?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I told you in the past that angels can pick up on more than just verbal prayers. Longing. Strong feelings of intent. They’re like…..indirect prayers.”

“Yeah. So who’s praying? Dean?”

Cas sighed. “He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, but I can feel that he’s perturbed.”

“Well yeah.” Claire pulled her legs up, crossing them. She then turned her whole body in Cas’ direction. “Jody told me Sam is like ready to tie him down so he’ll stop clawing at the walls. He’s trying to find you.”

Mildly irritated, Cas shook his head. “He’s yet to actually pray to me so I can’t imagine he wants to speak to me that badly.”

“That’s fair. One point to Castiel.”

Cas raised an eyebrow at that.

“So why are we letting Dean sweat? What did he do?” Claire grinned. “Depending on what he did, I bet we can get Jody to boot his car.”

“I’m afraid to ask what that means, but I have no doubt that Dean would never speak to me again if we did such a thing to ‘his baby’.”

Claire shook her head. “Never mind that then.”

Cas took a deep breath. His gaze slid over to Jack’s sleeping form. “Dean and I didn’t part on good terms. I spent much of the past year tracking Jack’s mother. She wasn’t easy to find.” Cas’ head turned and he met Claire’s eye. He frowned. “And my original mission was to terminate the pregnancy.”

A sudden chill crept up Claire’s spine. “Oh.”

“Dean understood the complexities of my mission. I didn’t want to hurt Kelly, but….a child like Jack is…..he could cause a lot of harm.”

Arching her neck up, Claire tried to get a better glimpse of the baby. He seemed to be sleeping with his face squished into the playpen floor. “I get the idea,” she said quietly. “Archangel power. Prince of Darkness. But…” Claire pointed her thumb in Jack’s direction. “I don’t think he fits the bill.”

“When I did find Kelly,” Cas continued. “And I rescued her from Dagon, one of the Princes of Hell…..Jack called out to me. He showed me a peaceful world. A vision of the good he’ll be able to do.”

“And that’s why you’ve gone all dad mode.” Claire crossed her arms.

“He asked.”

“And Dean?”

“To hunt Dagon I had to trick Dean and steal a special gun he prized.”

Grimacing, Claire quipped, “I bet that went over well.”

“At the time him and Sam were pitching ideas of removing Jack’s grace.”

“What would that even do to him?”

“Make him human I suppose…”

“But you don’t know.”

“No. Not for certain. And Kelly wanted her son to be whole.”

Claire nodded in agreement. “She’s right. Jack should be allowed to be his entire self. No hiding. No changing or compromising for others.”

Cas smiled softly, and then it fell while he stared at his hands in his lap. “I suspect now that Dean is mostly upset about the disappearance act, but...I’ve been keeping the distance so I don’t have to lose everyone. My siblings already dislike both Winchesters.”

A small laugh escaped Claire. “Figures.”

“And….I do actually quite like this house. It’s peaceful here. Unlike their bunker...which is filled with rooms of unknown and dangerous items.”

A glint of excitement shone in Claire’s eyes. “Are you sure? Sounds like a fun place to explore and grow up in.”

Cas shook his head. “Jack deserves sunshine and windows...and a life unmarked by hunting…..well for as long as I can give him.”

Claire nodded, and they both sat there in silence with their thoughts for a while. Eventually, Claire’s eyes moved back to Cas and the sorrow exuding from him. “If Dean left the bunker to help you with Jack out here….would you want that?”

Cas was silent for a long time. Claire couldn’t make heads or tails of his expression. Eventually he spoke in a hushed whisper. “I miss him.”

“You should ask him instead of making his decisions for him.”

Cas’ eyes darted back to her for a moment. He stared, and then he pointed at the laptop. “So what kind of movie were you thinking?”

#spn #supernatural #castiel #claire novak #baby jack truthing #jack kline #baby jack kline #my writing #An Angel's Vow

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whumpasaurus101 · 3 years

Note

Heyyyy ! May I request a drabble of the time when Jack escapes from Lawrence and Alicia gets him 👀

AGH I am so so sorry it took me sooo long to get to this! XD I just realised how I have barely written in Jack’s perspective so here is some Jack content. I’m sorry this is short, I just didn't want it to drag onnnnn :D bUuuuuuuuut here it is!!!

So just to put it out there, Jack is called Dylan in this because his previous owner, Lawrence called him that :P =￣ω￣=

CW: mention of past wounds / not a lot whumpy tbhh / semi-broke whumpee / scared boi :D

Dylan ran. He ran for his life, feeling his heart thumping so hard, as if it was about to rip out from his chest. He pumped his arms and legs, his breathing uneven. There were no shouts from behind him, and no gunshots or threats. Was he free?

All he had to do was remove the tracking chip from his arm and he was free. God! If he had known that a while back, he would've been free ages ago.

He had no clue where he was going, he didn't even know where he was. Lawrence’s house was in the middle of nowhere, but that didn't stop Dylan from continuing his sprint, picking up the pace slightly.

He couldn't get caught, no, not yet. Not after everything he had risked. He would be dead if he got caught. A shiver sent down his back at the thoughts of what Lawrence would do to him. No, keep running! He panted and heaved, he hadn't ran so much for years, his body already ached. He slowed his pace slightly.

He soon slowed down to a fast walk once he was sure that Lawrence wasn't chasing him. He looked at the sky, it was a dark blue. Some birds flew high over the tree. It was beautiful. He missed the outside. It had been so long since he felt the fresh air blow against his face. Since he heard the leaves brush softly against each other.

The trees soon came to an end and there was a highway. He hadn't expected it. He let out a cry as a car suddenly appeared in front of him, speeding by. This car was soon followed by another, and another. The car beeped loud and Dylan fell to the pavement, hitting his head against the low stone wall.

He couldn't breathe, he quickly curled up in a ball, tucking his head in between his knees. He couldn't breathe. A hand pressed against his head, making let out even more of a cry. Lawrence, Lawrence found him! No! He was going to kill him!!!!

He jumped as he heard a woman’s voice, his head snapped up to meet eyes with hers. She looked quite young, maybe mid-twenties, not too much older as Dylan himself. She smiled, “Oh honey, look at you, what happened, baby?”

Dylan sniffled and sobbed, “I- I- I’m not ready!!!” The woman chuckled when she saw his brand as his shirt was lifted slightly, “Oh honey, it's okay, shh, ahh. Do you want to come home with me? Look at all these wounds that haven't been taken care of properly! Oh you poor bunny, cmon, let's get you up!”

Dylan found himself letting the woman pick him up. “I’m Alicia,” She smiled. “D-Dylan.” Alicia’s face scrunched up, making Dylan flinch, she wasn't impressed with him. “Hmm, no, we’ll change that. It doesn't suit you.” Dylan hung his head, “Y-yes ma’am.”

Alicia turned to him and booped him on the nose, “Hey, don't be so glum! It’s not your fault! Now, let’s bring you home, get you cleaned up and bring you to a friend of mine!” Dylan’s heart lightened, she wanted to show him off! He smiled and nodded quickly. Alicia smiled back, “You're going to look gorgeous! Now, I’ll need to tie your wrists just to be sure, okay?” Dylan nodded quickly. “Good! Now, my car is only five minutes away, can you walk?” Dylan looked at the cars which zoomed by him rapidly, the noises were so loud, but he nodded. Alicia chuckled and ruffled his hair again, “Good!” She lifted him up and placed an arm around his waist and started walking.

Dylan had to limp, his legs felt like jelly from all of the running. The walk was agonizing, Alicia was subconsciously digging her fingers into his bruised ribs, or was that on purpose… His brain was too foggy to think, he just wanted to lie down! But soon his prayers were answered when they eventually reached Alicia’s car.

Alicia opened the passenger seat and gently put Dylan inside. “Arms,” Alicia ordered. Dylan didn't hesitate in putting his arms forward, wrists together. Alicia got out duct tape from the glove compartment and wrapped layers over Dylan’s wrists, securing them. Dylan didn't even bother testing if he could escape from them. The dark red colour of his hands told him so.

He wouldn't run away anyway. Alicia seemed really nice, and safe. Much much better than Lawrence. She got into the driver's seat and sighed, “Alrighty, let's go home!” The car drove steadily along the road. Dylan gazed out of the window, studying the great outside world. There was life! People who actually lived their own lives! They were free… -no, I belong here, owned by someone. I'm grateful to have someone who wants to take me in.

His mind stopped running eventually and he fell fast asleep. Alicia looked over to him and chuckled, she was going to have fun with him.

---

Taglist:

@likeit-or-whumpit @milk-carton-whump @yesthisiswhump @as-a-matter-of-whump @appy-polly-loggies @happy-whumper @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

Thank you for reading!!! (∩^o^)⊃━☆

#whump #whump writing #whump story #Dylan #Jack #Alicia #ask #thank you!!!!#bound wrists #not too whumpy #my writing #:D

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teacupfulofstarshine · 4 years

Text

and, my darling, i am nothing without you

at long last, i present the virgil-is-kidnapped fic! heed the cw on this one, folks; it's kind of dark compared to my normal stuff

cw: kidnapping, injury/blood, violence, whump, cursing, mention of knives, hospital mention

word count: 3796

read it on ao3!

This, Virgil thinks, is why he never leaves the fucking batcave.

He’s pretty sure he’s bleeding. He was hit pretty hard on the back of the head when they first ambushed him, and there’s something warm and wet in his hair. He’s on the ground now, phone who-knows-where, and he’s regretting not taking Logan’s offer of a ride.

He stands up, preparing himself to run away, and almost immediately, he’s grabbed again from behind. A hand clamps over his mouth with an iron grip, and an arm locks around his torso, and he kicks out frantically with his legs. “Now, now, it’s not nearly as much fun when you do that,” someone drawls.

Virgil narrows his eyes, mind racing, trying to figure out what he can do. He sticks his tongue out and licks his captor’s hand, and then he gets the idea. he pulls his head back, like he’s struggling, and the captor’s hand follows, and Virgil opens his mouth just a little wider -

He bites down, hard, managing to snare a finger in his jaws. Whoever’s behind him - the unsub, Patton would call him the unsub - swears loudly, and he lets go long enough for Virgil to fling himself out of his grasp.

Virgil lands hard on the concrete floor of the parking garage, pushing himself to his feet and trying to gather his wits. Is it worth it to go for his phone? No, he needs to run. He has to get out of here, right now, before anything else happens. If he’s lucky, he’ll get to the bullpen before the rest of the team leaves.

Luck, however, is not on his side today. Just as he’s starting to stand up, something hard and swift connects with his stomach. Just like that, all the breath is thrown from his body, and he wants to scream or cry or do something but he can’t even breathe.

He’s harshly yanked up by his hair, and then thrown back to the ground. He’s pretty sure his nose is bleeding now; when he gasps in, he tastes the sharp sting of copper. Behind him, Virgil hears the distinctive noise of a zip-tie being pulled out.

Whoever’s behind him zipties his wrists together, the hard plastic digging into the soft skin of his wrist. They tighten another ziptie around his ankles, and then he hears the ssshkk! of a roll of duct tape. The unsub wraps the tape around his wrists, over the ziptie, and then around his knees, and then around his ankles. They pull him up by his hair again, and he winces but doesn’t scream. He won’t give this asshole the satisfaction.

More duct tape is wrapped around his torso, pinning his arms to his sides, and then the unsub drags him across the parking garage by his hair. “If you’re a good boy,” he murmurs, giving a particularly vicious pull, “maybe I won’t gag you.”

He drops Virgil in front of a small, blue car while he pops the trunk. Virgil stares at it, burning the details into his mind, and when the unsub moves to pick him up, he sees the license plate: VC3W87.

The unsub hoists Virgil up and throws him into the trunk, along with the roll of duct tape. Before Virgil can react, the trunk door slams shut. He struggles, but between the zipties and the duct tape his range of motion is pretty much non-existent. And it’s pitch black inside, and Virgil can’t see anything,

The car starts up with a jolt, and loud music begins to play from the speakers. Virgil tries to throw his body weight against the trunk, tries to get his bearings. He tries to feel for the taillight, to kick it out so he can let someone know he’s in here. But the car is jerking around too much, and even if he could kick the light out his hands are bound.

Virgil considers screaming, but the music is too loud. He’s spent his entire life in a tiny 6x9 room, tracking creeps like this guy through computers, and now he’s in the trunk of a car and he’s going to die.

He struggles some more, valiantly, but he can’t get even the slightest inch of movement. The zipties are hurting him, and he’s worried that he’s going to start bleeding if he pulls any harder. He takes a shaky breath, eyes burning. He will not cry. Not here, not now.

He chants the license plate number in his head: VC3W87. VC3W87. VC3W87 VC3W87 VC3W87 VC3W87. He has to figure out how to get this information to his team. He has to get out of here. He has to get back to his brother and his boyfriend and -

Virgil chokes back a sob, because oh god, Patton. It’s Friday. He’s supposed to go over tonight because Patton’s making dinner, and Virgil -

Virgil was planning to propose.

He won’t get that chance tonight. He may never get that chance. He will, in all likelihood, die before they find him. He’ll die, and Patton will never know that he meant more than the world to Virgil, because Virgil was too terrified to ask a question he knew he’d get a yes to.

Virgil takes a deep breath, feeling something hot and wet slide down his cheeks.

He doesn’t think it’s blood this time. *~*~*~*~* Patton waits for around three hours before he calls Virgil. The food is long cold by this point; Virgil hasn’t called or texted to let him know he’d be late. He hasn’t heard anything from Virgil since earlier in the afternoon, when he’d asked if they were still on. Virgil had kissed him and said that they were.

Virgil is not here now.

Patton calls Virgil seven times. Every time, it goes straight to voicemail, without even ringing. He’s starting to worry now, because Virgil is never without his cell phone. He practically gives off his own WiFi signal.

He dials Logan instead, and mercifully, Logan picks up after the third ring. “Patton?” Patton can hear Roman’s voice, softly filtering through the speaker, but he can’t make out any words.

“Logan, is Virgil with you?” Patton asks.

“I thought you two had a date tonight? Didn’t you two leave the office together?”

“No, I - I wanted to surprise him, and he said he had to get something from his apartment. He told me he’d meet me here three hours ago, but I haven’t heard from him since earlier today at work!”

“Did you try calling him?”

“Seven times,” Patton says. “It went straight to voicemail - didn’t even ring.”

Shuffling noises as Logan moves around. “That’s not right. Virgil always has his phone on him.”

“We should go back to the office and check on him,” Patton says.

“Virgil had the car today, I’m at Roman’s.”

“I’ll drive you to the office, sweetheart,” Roman choruses; Logan must have put him on speakerphone. “We’ll see you there?”

“Okay,” Patton says. “I’m calling Thomas, too, okay?”

“The more, the merrier,” Roman says, and Patton can hear the smirk. It’s almost reassuring.

Almost.

He pulls into the parking garage, sprinting up the staircases to the level where Virgil’s car was parked. He spots the car almost instantly - still there, and there’s a suspicious red stain on the concrete, surrounded by shards of black and purple plastic. Patton gazes, horrified, at the empty space three away from Virgil’s car, at the dark black skidmarks that definitely weren’t there this morning.

His phone rings, and he picks it up. “Anderson.”

“Patton, it’s me,” Thomas says. “I got your message - what’s going on?”

Patton’s throat is suddenly dry, and he has to force the words out. “Thomas, I - I think Virgil’s been kidnapped.”

Footsteps ring out behind him, and Patton whirls around, pulling his gun out with his free hand in case whoever took Virgil is still waiting - what for, he doesn’t know, but he’s ready to fight.

Logan holds his hands up in surrender. “Patton, relax. It’s Logan.” Next to him, Roman tenses, hand hovering over his gun. Even as he puts his own gun away, Patton’s heart warms a little to see how ready to defend Logan Roman is. His heart immediately chills a little, because if he’d pushed just a little bit harder for Virgil to come home with him, he might be here.

“Patton!” Thomas calls, and Patton remembers he’s on the phone. “You think what?”

“His car is still in the parking garage!” Patton says. “There’s blood on the concrete, there are - there are skid marks that weren’t here before, and - and there’s pieces of what i think are his cell phone all over, and -”

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Logan’s hand is on his shoulder. Patton’s been doing this for years, much longer than Logan has, why is he crying?

“He’s gone, Thomas,” Patton chokes. “Virgil - Virgil is gone.”

They congregate in the conference room. Logan’s face is blank, but it’s the careful kind of blank he schools his face into when he’s trying not to let his emotions get the better of him. He has a death grip on Roman’s hand, and Roman doesn’t say anything.

Thomas meets them in the office, face uncharacteristically grim. “Crime scene unit is on its way to the garage. We have to have faith, guys.”

“Virgil’s not trained,” Logan mutters.

“What?”

“He’s not trained. We - we have protocol that we learn in the event we’re kidnapped. Standard procedure. Virgil never got that training because he’s not a field agent.” Patton’s blood turns to ice in his veins.

Logan jumps, as though he’s been slapped, and pulls his phone out of his pocket. It’s buzzing with a blocked number. Patton pulls his own phone out and opens a recording app. Logan sees it opened, answers the call, and puts it on speakerphone.

“Am I speaking to Agent Logan Wallace of the FBI?” The voice is electronically filtered, altered to make it impossible to recognize.

“Yes, you are,” Logan says. Patton is impressed at how calm and steady his voice is, but he can see his shaking hands. “With whom am I speaking?”

“My name is unimportant. What is important is what I have.”

“And what might that be?” Logan asks. Roman squeezes his hand.

“Many things, most of which would interest any other member of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. But there is only one thing that would interest you, Agent Logan Wallace of the FBI.”

“And what might that be?” Logan repeats. Patton picks up on the almost-undetectable tremor in his voice.

“Virgil Knight.” Patton opens his mouth, but Thomas holds up a hand in warning. Don’t.

“How do I know you have him? How do I know this isn’t a joke?”

“Are you asking for proof of life, Agent Logan Wallace of the FBI?”

“Yes,” Logan says.

There’s a staticky shuffling noise on the other end. “You have two minutes,” the voice says, and then there’s the sharp sound of duct tape being torn away.

“Virgil?” Logan’s voice is slightly higher-pitched and frantic. “Virgil, are you there?”

“Lo?” Patton wants to cry in relief, because that’s Virgil’s voice. He’s alive - for now, at least. His voice is shakier than Patton would like it to be, but it’s his voice.

“Virgil, are you alright? Where - where are you?”

“Don’t be blue, Logan,” Virgil says. “Life’s too dan small for that.”

“Virgil, what happened?”

“I need you to - to do me a favor, okay? I need you to tell - tell Victor to bring Charlie three whiskeys, alright? The ones from 1987, alright?”

“Virgil, what does that mean?”

“Victor needs to bring Charlie three whiskeys from - from ‘87,” Virgil repeats, voice more frantic. “Logan, you have to -”

There’s a sharp smack, and Virgil shouts in pain, and then the electronic voice is back. “Will that be sufficient proof, Agent Logan Wallace of the FBI?”

“Why do you have my brother?” Logan demands.

“You have mine,” the voice responds. “I propose a trade. You have six hours to consider the offer. I will call back and await a response. If you value his life, you will cooperate.”

The line goes dead.

Patton barely registers Roman pulling Logan into his arms, barely registers Thomas reaching for him. There’s something white rushing in his ears, clouding his vision, and when he blinks and his vision clears, his fist is on the table. He’s punched it.

“Patton, you gotta breathe,” Thomas says, and his voice is low and soothing but Patton doesn’t want to be soothed. “We have to find him,” Patton seethes. “We have to find him and then we have to find whoever took him so I can break their goddamn face.”

*~*~*~*~*

Virgil shifts restlessly against the tape and zipties holding him in place. He’s bound to a hard wooden chair now, locked in a dingy concrete room. There are mold stains on the ceiling and water dripping somewhere, but he doesn’t know where.

The door slams open suddenly, and bright white light streams into the previously darkened room, blinding him. A dark silhouette stands in front of him, and there’s something that looks suspiciously like a knife dangling at his side. “Hello there, Virgil Knight. You think you’re soooooo much better than all of us, don’t you? So safe in your little computer room, getting us captured and hunted down by your little FBI compadres. Well, not this time!”

Virgil struggles against his bindings. He tries to speak, but after the last time he was “interrogated” (wherein he’d cursed his captors out and then attempted to bite one of them), his mouth is plastered with duct tape.

“Awwwww, are you upset? Does that bother you? Well, don’t worry your ugly little head about it. You’re not going to see them ever again.”

The knife blade flashes in the light, and Virgil jerks against his bindings again.

*~*~*~*~*

“It has to mean something,” Logan says, studying the whiteboard where he’s transcribed Virgil’s cryptic message. “It has to! Virgil would not simply say things like that with no purpose. We do not even know a Charlie. Or a Victor!”

“I know, Logan,” Thomas says. “But you have to take a breath. You’re never going to help your brother if you can’t calm down.”

“I will never calm down while my brother is prisoner of some - some - some criminal!” Logan hisses. Patton, who hasn’t stopped pacing in the corner since the phone call, nods tersely. Roman tilts his head at the message from where he sits on the table, squinting.

“What if it’s a license plate?”

“What do you mean, what if it’s a license plate?” Patton asks. “How is it a license plate?”

“Virgil’s never one to shy away from curse words,” Roman says. “But he said ‘Life’s two dan short’ instead of ‘too damn,’ which is something he’d never do unless he was trying to send a message.”

“Two door sedan,” Logan says suddenly, slamming his fist against the table. “Virgil must have meant that he was abducted in a two door sedan!”

“So if that was what he meant, the rest of the message really could have been a coded attempt to give us the license plate,” Thomas says. “But how?”

“I would say it was a coded language attempt, but Virgil does not speak any language except for English and computer code,” Logan says.

“What about the NATO phonetic alphabet?” Patton asks. “Didn’t you and Vee used to write coded notes to each other when you were small?”

“We - of course! How could I have been so blind!” Logan says, smacking his forehead. He quickly begins circling words and muttering to himself. “Here - Charlie is ‘C’ in the alphabet. Victor is ‘V’ and Whiskey is ‘W’! That means that these numbers - 3, 8, 7 . . .”

Logan picks up a whiteboard marker and writes VC3W87 oh the board. “This must be our license plate. On a two door sedan.”

Patton pulls his gun out of his holster and checks that the bullets are fully loaded. “Let’s go.”

*~*~*~*~*

Virgil’s head sags against his chest. He can feel his eye swelling up with a bruise, and the only reason he’s no longer gagged is that his nose is bleeding so much he couldn’t breathe. He’s covered in bruises and cuts, and he’s definitely dehydrated. All he can think about is his family.

He wants to have Roman burst into his office singing loudly, disrupting his latest coding project. He wants to sit and criticize old movies with Logan. He wants to curl up in bed with Patton after a hard week of work, to feel Patton’s fingers in his hair, to press his lips to Patton’s cheek. He wants to go home, and he’s probably never going to see it again.

He can hear some time of commotion down the hallway, and he exhales shakily, closing his eyes. He’s not ready for another round of torture. He’s not ready to face the inevitability of losing his life.

Someone discharges a gun - once, twice, thrice, four times. Virgil lifts his head, confused, and suddenly the door is kicked open again.

“Virgil?!”

Great, now he’s hearing voices. He wants so badly to see his little brother again that he’s hearing things. He can’t believe it’s come to this, but being kidnapped does weird things to your mind, he guesses -

“Virgil, it’s me! I’m here, it’s okay!”

He opens his eyes to see Logan staring down at him, eyes wide behind the reflections on his glasses. “I’m gonna get you out of here. I’m here. I’m here.” He reaches behind him and pulls out one of Virgil’s knives, kneeling down to saw at the duct tape and zip ties.

“L . . . Lo . . . you got my message?” Virgil says softly. “I always knew . . . between us . . . you were the . . . the smart one . . .”

“We are both smart in our own ways, you incomparable imbecile,” Logan hisses. “Enough of this. Roman and Patton are taking down the asshole that kidnapped you.”

“Pat . . . here? I - I have to - where is . . .”

“Did you find him?!” an achingly familiar voice cries, sprinting through the doorway and sinking to his knees in front of Virgil’s chair. “Vee! Are you okay?!”

“Pat,” Virgil sighs, leaning up into the warm hands on his face. Patton sobs and presses their foreheads together. “Patty . . . Pat, you . . . marry me?”

“What?! Virgil, what are you -”

“Marry me,” Virgil repeats, Patton’s face blurring out in front of him. “Love you . . . wanna . . . wanna marry . . . have to ask . . . before . . . too late . . . love you . . . marry . . . me?”

His eyes slide closed, and his head leans against the comforting warmth of Patton’s shoulder.

*~*~*~*~*

Virgil’s eyes slide open, and everything is white.

“Am . . . I dead?” His tongue feels like it’s wrapped in thirty thousand layers of cotton gauze.

“I fucking hope not, after all the trouble we went through to get you back,” someone snarks. Virgil turns his head away from the blinding white of the sheets and the walls and the floor to focus on a splash of color - Roman, sitting in an uncomfortable-looking plastic hospital chair with Logan slumped across three more chairs beside him. Logan is wearing Roman’s bright red hoodie, head resting in Roman’s lap as he sleeps, and he looks uncharacteristically young.

“R . . . oman?”

“Hey there, Batman,” Roman says, smiling softly. “How are you holding up?”

“Lousy,” Virgil croaks. He shifts, wincing. “Ah! What hit me?”

“Someone with a complex. Multiple times. In the face, torso, shoulders, legs, arms, et cetera et cetera. You’ve got some fractured ribs, a nasty black eye, severe dehydration and malnourishment . . . but you’re alive.”

“Where’s Pat?”

“He was keeping a vigil here for the past few days you were out. Thomas forced him home to shower and sleep, so Lo and I are taking care of you.”

Logan stirs at the mention of his name. “Mmngh . . . Ro . . . wha’s . . . hap’nin . . .”

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey, mi querido,” Roman says softly.

“I do not like eggs . . . or bacon . . . wh . . . my brother?”

“Hey,” Virgil says softly, coughing a little. Logan immediately sits upright, so fast that his legs get tangled in the armrests and he nearly faceplants on the linoleum. “Lo, are you -”

“Virgil!”

Logan scrambles onto the hospital bed and presses himself into Virgil’s arms. He’s shaking, and Virgil winces as he lifts his arms but it doesn’t stop him from wrapping Logan up in a hug. “Lo . . . I’m sorry . . . I didn’t . . . mean to . . .”

“I know,” Logan whispers. “I know that no one intends to get kidnapped. But I - you - you are my brother, and the most important person in my life.” Virgil flicks his eyes up to look at Roman, who just smiles knowingly. “I cannot even fathom what would happen to me if you were not in my life. You are so incredibly important to me. I do not want to lose you, ever. Please, Virgil.”

“You’re not losing me,” Virgil murmurs, holding his brother tightly. Logan makes a soft, pained noise and hugs Virgil as tight as he dares. “Is - is Patty coming?”

“I just texted him,” Roman says. “He’ll be here in a minute.”

*~*~*~*~*

Patton is barely able to restrain himself from running through the hospital hallways. He grips the purple patchwork hoodie tightly in his hands. It’s the only piece of Virgil he’s had with him since he was kidnapped, and he’s terrified. Roman says that Virgil is awake now, but what if it’s a lie? What if -

He throws open the hospital room door, barely able to restrain himself from slamming it against the wall. Virgil is propped up in bed, pale skin even more unnaturally so against the bright white of the hospital linens and underneath the fluorescent lights. He has an IV line in his arm, and the eyeshadow under his eyes is replaced by dark bags and a nasty bruise. He smiles at the doorway.

“Hey, Pat.”

Logan is sitting at his bedside, holding his brother’s hand tightly. Roman is nodding off against the wall, slumped over in a hospital chair. Patton drags a chair up to the other side of the bed and takes Virgil’s other hand.

“Vee . . .”

“Sorry I scared you,” he says softly.

“Don’t apologize for this like it’s somehow your fault!” Patton laughs, voice high-pitched and hysterical.

“Pat,” Virgil says. “What I asked you when I was rescued . . . do you remember?”

“You were delirious,” Patton says, even as his heart beats rapidly.

“Before I got kidnapped, I was gonna propose to you. I don’t have my ring with me, and I can’t get down on one knee, but I - I want - Pat, you’re the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. Will you marry me?”

Patton feels the tears streaming down his face again.

“Of course I will, sweetheart. Of course I will.”

taglist below!

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@agentblackkat @morgantoast @rainysharkfreaklover @tapdancingdalek @brutarax808 @masonjarfullofsunflowers @lovelylogans @thatcacidork @antisocialdragonkid @nic-is-here @thiaholimon @whatschooldoesntteachyou @dysfunctional-goblin @lostchoirchild @acompletemusicalnerd @monroig @coliebugs @aro-ace-fangirl @lord-of-the-wicked @sanderstalker @bootsinthesun @anonfromcanada @7-circles-of-dissonance @wowimsogoddamnoriginal @psychixx @alittlebitofeveryoneandthing @toostressedforthisbs @an-absolute-failure @faycanyons @meglooy @skruffy901 @drawingdaydreamsuniverse @rosiepupper @winterrs-child @godspeed31-26 @mariita-2006 @meglooy @matthindavick @dragonindigo245 @lovingcreatorstrawberry @dreamingintodust @soakinforsif @theloneliestplaytapus @ironfilly @sandinthetardis @lostinmyfictionaluniverses

#starshinewrites #sanders sides fbi!au #romantic moxiety #romantic logince #platonic TLAMP #brotherly analogical

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january-glooms · 3 years

Note

15, 19, 29 aaaaaaand... idk, 30

hi hi jae :) sorry it took so long some people wouldn’t shut up

15. five most influential books over your lifetime.

uhhh i read a lot, but these really shaped me as a person:

Harry Potter (all of them, it was the first series i ever read and it were the first books i read in english)

Narnia (once again really shaped me as a child)

Murder on the Orient Express (it's where my love for playing detective came from)

The Dark Tower or anything by Stephen King (the way his work always connects is fucking insane)

Lies We Tell Ourselves by Robin Talley (this is the most recent book i read, but it’s very dear to my heart)

19. which Harry Potter house would you be in? or are you a muggle?

jae, jae let me tell you how happy this question makes me. i am a fucking muggleborn ravenclaw, i have a whole ass backstory and i run an underground mob for muggle candy, school stuff such as pens and notebooks. i'm that kid talk talks in vines and pop culture references, i start singing we are the champions when we win the house cup and/or the quidditch cup. i set up wifi around the school and how do i wear my uniform you ask. well,,, white dress shirt with a dark blue tie, black leather jacket, black ripped jeans with combat boots and my hair up in a messy bun with my wand in it

29. three songs that you connect with right now.

i don't think these will ever change but

exhale by Sabrina Carpenter

can’t help it by Anarbor

highway to hell by AC/DC

30. pick one of your favorite quotes.

i love some good quotes but the first that came to mind was this one:

“When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

- Sherlock Holmes

identity asks

#trish tag #noëmi answers #moonlight tag

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the-fiction-witch · 4 years

Text

The Med Head And The Raver P1

REAL LIFE: COUPLE: TBS X READER RATING: CUTE + KINDA FLIRTY WARNINGS (FOR WHOLE SERIES) : DRUG USE! SWEARING, MURDER.

"This is going to be our last meeting for a while isnt it y/n?" Miss Riverwood asks

"yeah" I sighed looking out to the rain battering the broken plastic window, the seals of the window so broken and dirty there were dead spiders and fruit flies that have been there since I was little, The walls painted a light blue, the cheap Ikea table with the same pamphlets and little plastic cups of water as ever with the tissue box perfectly in line with everything else on the desk, she sat across from me in the blue padded chair the same as mine, her green pencil skirt hugged her close, her tights had a ladder she had tried to fix with that olf clear nail polish trick but it hadn't worked, her white blouse done perfectly with a little spill of coffee o the collar, she held a notebook in her tanned, manicured hands with notes about me all tilted in a way she had tried to make so I couldn't read them, but I can. her hair up in a bun and she sighed as I pulled my hoodie tighter

"Your starting Univerity, it's a big-time, moving from home, away from family and friends" she encouraged

"My home is a crack den, my family are dicks and my friends are imaginary, I'll be fine" I explain

"You know y/n we had talked about maybe going back on the medicines just for the first few weeks-" she began

"I'm not going back on the fucking smiley pills!" I yelled

"Just for the first few weeks, I'm not saying you it will make it better but I am asking you to try," she says "We will have another appointment when you're settled," she says handing me the prescription so I sighed and took it grabbing my bag and leaving the little room heading out to the waiting room and office trying to head out

"Miss y/l/n! your prescription" the dispensary lady says as she had seen my slip so I sighed and handed it to her through the little free space in the window throwing my backpack on my shoulder a little better as she fixed it up for me sorting it all in a paper bag for me "follow the instructions, I'd recommend and timmer on your phone so you don't forget hun" she says

"Thanks" I forced a smile taking the bag and heading out shoving it in my backpack and heading down the rainy streets, passed people rushing on their lunch breaks to get their food or get back to work cars rushing past drenching my canvas shoes not that I minded, at least the cold is a feeling I guess. once I got into the dry busy shopping centre I went past the stupid shops all showing the bikinis and camping stuff getting changed by staff over to the fall jackets and scarves I went through the place and out to the bus station getting my key out my pocket and unlocking my big locker the only big one in the whole station that still locked, I checked the time and I had a little while, so I hopped across the street and got a bag of fries and a milkshake for a couple of quid sitting at the bay with my suitcase and backpack as I sipped my vaguely strawberry milkshake.

I sat there for half an hour when I got my paperwork out my bag as the white beaten up coach pulled up into the bay the door opened letting off a few older couples with suitcases

"You Miss y/l/n?" the man asked coming out in a suit and tie

"Yeah" I nodded

"Perfect," He says putting a scanner on my suitcase and loading it under the coach he tried to take my backpack but I moved it tighter "suit yourself, love," he shrugs scanning my paperwork "Seat 14 and 15 love, wifi passwords on the seat," He says

"Thanks" I forced a smile going in and finding my seats putting my backpack on the row and I sat next to the window instantly wrapping myself in my hoodie like a blanket and putting my headphone in as the coach pulled off and we began our long trip.

after a while of rainy fields and little villages I looked into the coach at other people, the driver busy with his driving, the man who did the paperwork on a tablet playing some sort of puzzle game, and an old couple taking pictures of everything outside the window, some lady with about six kids at the back all of them playing with yous and food, and someone who caught my attention. A Guy, he looked a little younger than me, or maybe older, it was hard to tell, he had a pair of beaten up almost ripping blue jeans, with some combat style boots, a bright yellow shirt for some band or show or movie or something like that, a very cosy looking aviators jacket a black leather on the outside and a fluffy blanket of something on the inside, he had his headphones in going in a bright white line from his ears to his pocket, his blonde and brown hair a mess where he leans on the seat Infront of him his back against the window and his feet on the seat to the isle, his brown eyes where a million miles away day dreaming about something, he had what seemed like dark spots around his eyes where he was clearly very tried, his mouth expressionless but graced with facial hair that clearly was still growing on and either needed a shave or a few more weeks, I noticed his foot slightly tapping he must have been doing it along with whatever he had playing in his headphones, I found this boy.... interesting, he was the closest to me compared with everyone else on the coach he shifted a little moving his jacket around him more but not doing It up crossing his arms over his chest, he glanced to me a moment and looked back to other things seeming disinterested in me. I got my bag getting milkshake having a quiet sip as it clearly says no food or drink when I put it away again he looked back at me a smirk on his face and one headphone out his ear "Quite the little rebel aren't you?" He smirked his voice sounded unusual a tawng of a accent, of somewhere in London I was sure. He was looking right at me but I was lost "Sorry?" I asked "I saw you" he smirked looking at my bag "don't worry, I won't tell on you" "Thanks" I answered "What brings you to the magic bus ride today?" He asked "Uni" I sighed "Ooooohhh... Uni girl" he smiled "going for sign in?" And I nodded "yeah me too" "It's a long way" I sighed "Yeah, I've been on this dam thing for eight hours, and I've got six more to go" he explained "How have you not like eaten or been to the bathroom?" I asked "Snacks on my bag and I piss in a bottle" he shrugs "Lovely" I sighed "Sorry, but that's the reality of the situation" he shrugs "can I have some of your milkshake?" He whispered "No!" I complain "What else you got in that battered old back pack then?" He asks sitting up more and leaning towards me "Some fries" I shrug "Ohhh can I have some fries?" He asks jumping over to sit with me "No!" I complain "Come on just a couple, I'm hungry" he whines "No! Their mine" I told him "Fine, your no fun" he complained now he was much closer I couldn't deny he was attractive he had a scent of leather, beer, smoke and mint tea, All around a nice scent for a boy. "Hey, you wanna fool around a little?" He smirked "What?" I asked very confusedly "You know... Have a little fun" he smirked "Ughh! Your discussing!" I complain pushing him away from me

"Fine whatever" He sighed "Got anything else in that bag?" he asked

"None of your business," I told him

"Fine," he sighed going back to his seat and leaning back looking around again, so I sat a while looking out the window trying not to pay attention to whatever that guy is doing I glanced at him and he smirked at me sticking his tongue out at me so I rolled my eyes and buried my head in my phone.

p2?

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thealphabetmurders · 5 years

Text

Scrambled Thoughts

Pairings: Romantic Logince, Sibling Analogical

Word Count: 2013 (for Chapter 3), 8163 in total

(Previous) (First)

Summary: Roman was not a rebel by any means. Roman was not a fan of breaking rules. Sure, he bent some from time to time, but never done anything blatantly wrong, that was not in service to his passions. Yet, despite the protests his best friend and his consciousness, he picks up two dozen eggs and goes to vandalize. Now, Roman has to avoid suspension, make amends with Virgil, alleviate the concern of Patton, and not fall in love with his enemy Logan.

Triggers: Bullying, Violence, Vandalism, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Mentions of Racism, Classism

Authors Note:This fic originally was going to be just 3 chapters long, but the people on my discord server implored me to write some more angst. Please enjoy. (Again, I was inspired by a dream @misplaced-my-notes had, thank you).

Taglist (for everyone who seemed interested): @misplaced-my-notes, @jaszczurkaaa, @an-atypical, @jughead-is-canonically-aroace (let me know if you wanted to be added/taken off)

(Read on AO3)

One Week Later

Tensions had been running high between Logan and Roman over the week. Logan would smirk at something he had read, faux-gasp at something on his phone, or just give Roman a smug grin, and Roman would return the favor in a civilized fashion of obscene hand gestures.

It felt as though this was going to go on indefinitely. That was, until, a randomly assigned pairs project was put before them. And as fate would have it, there was no question as to who Roman was paired up with.

“So,” Mrs. Volts continued, “As this is a public forum debate, you and your partner will work together to debate another pair. Your resolution topics have been posted on the board. After reading, you and your partner should get together and get started,”

Roman nearly cried as him and Logan looked at one another, both filled with the same amount of despair. They looked at their topic stand together, but looking very much separated, “Americans are entitled to free and public healthcare,”

The two made their way back to a desk in the corner and pulled out their computers wordlessly and shared a document with one another.

“So, I will take the affirmative since I am sure you would love to argue the negative for this one-”

Logan cut him off, “No, I believe we should work together on each one, that way we know an equal amount about the affirmative and negative,” Roman just nodded, “Listen, Roman I would like to apologize,”

Roman frowned, “For what?”

Logan fiddled with the sleeves of his leather jacket and continued talking, not meeting Roman’s eyes, “About my offhand comment on the quality of state schooling. It has been bothering me for days now and I wanted to apologize. I am speaking from a place of privilege, privilege I know I have. I intended to hurt you with that, but I wanted to apologize now, because I immediately regretted as I said it. I made a mistake, and I was wrong,”

Roman was shocked at Logan’s admission. He believe it would go in a completely different direction leading up to a punchline about Roman’s intelligence, “That was very big of you, Logan, thank you. Consider your apology, accepted,” Roman said with a wave of his hand.

“Great,” Logan deadpanned, unzipping and shrugging of his jacket. Today he wore a eggshell vertical striped shirt with a short black tie. Roman looked down at his own attire, a bright purple and red show shirt advertising Noises Off as well as his red bomber. He laughed silently to himself, wondering how they could be dressed more different.

“Are you also going to apologize for bruising my foot by smashing it with your pumps?” Roman asked.

“No, absolutely not,” Logan looked up from his typing, “I will only apologize for things I feel remorse towards and I do not regret that. I can, would, and will do it again when the opportunity presents itself.”

“Whatever you say, Specs,”

Logan shook his head, “We are not at nickname level yet,”

Roman smirked, “What are you gonna do about it- and I see you raising your foot, it that really your only move?”

Another Week Later

Roman didn’t know how it happened. Slowly, Logan and Roman’s, as the former would call it, ‘childish competitive rivalry’ slowly morphed into a ‘childish competitive friendship’. It must have all started when Roman invited Logan over to work on their debate, fully knowing they were ahead with work, and Logan accepted.

Maybe Roman did scream the entire time he rode on the back of Logan’s bike, gripping onto his waist, crying for deal life. It was possible that they spent 10 minutes working on their presentation but then forwent their original motive to play Mario Party. It’s extremely likely that Logan painted Roman’s nails black and Roman taught Logan how to make a meal out of 5 things in the pantry.

“What was that about, Ro?” Patton asked as Logan passed Roman in the hall, bumping him in the shoulder, winking, then smiling.

“Oh, that? We’re friends now, can you believe that?” Roman said, smiling. They sat down for lunch and Patton was smiling meekly.

“So, you both are friends now?” Patton asked. Roman nodded, taking out his salad, “Just… friends?”

Roman’s heart stopped and he swallowed, “Yea, Pat, just friends. W-why?”

Patton giggled, “I don’t know, that did not seem like just friendly behavior to me. I am pretty sure Logan was more expressive in those 5 seconds than I have seen him in the 3 years I have known him,”

Roman stabbed his salad, the fork slightly cracking the bottom of the cheap plastic, “Logan and I are just friends, nothing more. Either way, he is straight,”

“Did he tell you that?”

“Well, no, but he is a nerd and exudes that straight energy. No gay guys ride motorcycles,”

Patton considers this for a moment, “I guess. Bi?”

Roman’s eyes widen, “Huh. I didn’t even think of that. Motorcycles are big bisexual energy,”

“Do you like Logan?” Patton asked outright.

“No. Not really. He is still a self-righteous know it all,”

“So, you will not be upset if I am brutally honest with you, Ro,” Patton started out, hesitantly.

“I suppose… What is going on?”

Patton pushed his lunch aside and folded his hands onto the table, “Don’t you think it is a bit weird that a week ago you and Logan were at each other’s throats, and now he is kind of flirting with you in the halls?”

Roman frowned, chewing on his fork, “What are you saying, Patton?”

“I think that he may be feeding off of your flirtatious nature and using you,”

Roman dropped his fork in his salad and scoffed, “Using me? For what?”

Patton tongued the inside of his cheek, “You seriously do not remember, kiddo? How you vandalized his house and he is trying to get you suspended. Doesn’t he have to come up with something in about a week?”

“Yea…”

“Maybe this is a tactic. Get close to you for information and then use that against you,” Patton put his rounded glasses on top of his head and rubbed his eyes, “I never want to be a negative Nancy, Roman, but I have your best interest in mind, yea? You need a scholarship and fraternizing with the enemy is a damn good way to not get one,”

Roman scoffed, “The enemy?”

“You know what I mean,” Patton looked at his watch and sighed, “I promised Mr. Eldredge I would help him set up for Senior Facs, I just going to head there now,” He quite harshly threw everything in his lunch box and swung his school bag over his shoulder, “Just please listen to me Roman, for once, just listen to me. If you had listened to me in the first place, maybe you and Logan could have been friends without any ulterior motives,”

Patton walked off with purpose leaving Roman by himself to compartmentalize what Patton had revealed to him.

Logan is incredibly smart. That is just a universal truth. With every class, Logan excels and has developed quite the income from selling the faculty WiFi password to students, which allows them to access restricted content on their computers. Yet, there are always two sides to the same coin. Logan uses a lot of that intelligence purely for self preservation. He never gives out test answers or lets anyone copy homework. He is quite selfish with his school supplies as well, but more than anything, Logan is incredibly reserved. Most people high school aged have broken off into cliques or groups they share common interests with. Never Logan. Sure, Logan has acquaintances and people whom he can talk to in class, but never hang out with outside of the fact or even text for leisure. In fact, Roman is pretty sure he is the only contact in Logan phone outside of family.

There is no reason why Logan would randomly, out of the blue, want to become friends with Roman. In fact, it was weird how he didn’t see it for himself, first. Logan was just a parasite, using him off for his own personal gain and wishes then depositing him into a river whenever he has sucked all the blood and life out of him.

Roman gripped at his hair (the curliness of it makes it good to latch on to) and gritted his teeth, willing himself not to spill the hot tears that were taunting the edge of his eyelids. He gritted his teeth and sucked in a cold breath, the air feeling harsh against his enamel, but not as harsh as find out one of the few friends you did make was just using you off.

In a fit of passion and anger, Roman hit his salad off of the table, hitting the wall next to him. Lettuce and dressing stained the wall and the plastic fell on the floor, even more cracked than before. A couple students around him looked at the action, but quickly turned their attention away; nothing interesting enough was happening to stare at the student who looked on the verge of tears. Roman hastily grabbed his bag and ran out of the cafeteria. Normally, he could clean up his mess, but he was too emotional to care.

He walked and walked and walked until he reached his destination in mind. Roman raised a fist and rapped three quick knocks on the door.

“Roman?”

“Mr. B, what are you doing here… I was here to see-” Mr. Remy Brown stepped to the side to reveal Dr. Emile Picani. There were glasses set out and plates scattered across the coffee table at Dr. Picani’s office.

“Roman, is everything alright,” The school psychiatrist leapt up from his couch and rushed over to the door.

The student sniffled in response, but waved his hand away, “No, no I am fine, I just- You guys are having lunch I can come back-”

“No way, Ro,” Mr. B shook his head, “You look terrible,” He opened the door and gestured for the other to come inside.

He tentatively took a few steps inside and sat in the big leather chair across from the couch, settling into it nicely. Roman crossed his legs on the chair and picked up a stuffed dog and began fiddling with it’s long fur.

“I better go, Em,” Mr. B said, awkwardly. Roman always found it to be weird when teacher said other’s first names, but he quickly dismissed that point.

“Actually, I want you here, Mr. B, if that is alright,” Roman said awkwardly, “I was going to go to you, but I knew you were at lunch and didn’t want to bother you,” Roman looked down at his shoes, “Oops,”

The two adults looked at each other with an undesirable expression, but Dr. Picani signaled to the seat next to him and Mr. B sat down.

“Okay, Roman,” Dr. Picani bit his lip and looked up at Roman with worry, “What seems to be going on?”

*****

Microsoft NERD: Roman, you were not here for 6th period and we were supposed to debate today, is everything okay?

Microsoft NERD: I know we were supposed to go to that “Bubble Tea House” that just opened up; did you go home?

Microsoft NERD: Virgil told me you are in 7th Period, I do not know if you got your phone taken by your teacher, but you really should stop texting in class (also, I do not want you to sass me, this is my TA period).

Microsoft NERD: I am waiting by my bike for you in our usual spot.

Microsoft NERD: Roman, I have been waiting for you for about 40 minutes and you haven’t showed or texted me, I am just going to head home.

Microsoft NERD: I apologise, Roman, if I did anything to upset you or if something else upset you that was outside of me. Just, be prepared to debate tomorrow, I suppose. Goodnight, Roman.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #logince #sanders sides fic #my writing

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pizellewrites · 6 years

Text

All I Need To Know - Part 1

Author: @pizellewrites Rating: Mature (Language, Violence) Relationship: Hank/Connor father-son relationship (Gen) Summary: Connor’s memory core is badly damaged, and Hank must help him put together the pieces of what little he has left in a very unconventional way. Contains: Age Regression, Whump, Fluff

This is the story based on my other baby Connor AU, and it isn’t beta read. For now this is being posted on tumblr solely. When and if it’s finished, I’ll post it on AO3 if I’m happy with it. Divided into ‘parts’ as the updates won’t be consistent in size, and I don’t know how long it’s going to be. Updates will be random because Celebrating Connor is my top priority. But please let me know if you enjoy it, and I’ll put more effort into updating it as quickly as I can manage.

"The Crusher. A TR400 whom was named Martin by its owner. He performed flawlessly up until a good natured employee that worked with him, a deviant JB300 by the name of Lucas, 'awakened' him with good intentions. Days after his deviance, Martin grew frustrated with his task. Unaware that he could have spoken to his supervisor or even his owner, he instead began to assault fellow coworkers who reacted negatively towards him. His most recent attack put the victim in a state beyond repair."

Connor's back rested comfortably against the passenger seat. Things along the side of the road occasionally caught his interest. He held his hand to his mouth a few times and clamped his teeth around the edge of his nails, but pulled them away before he could damage his fingertips.

Hank thought he'd never see the day. Every day, Connor acted more and more humanlike. He did want to intervene at a more peaceful time when Connor attempted to bite his nails, just not now.

"Long story short: he killed the guy, the android's wanted for murder now. Good thing we have him detained."

Deviancy had affected most of Detroit, but there were still a ton of late bloomers. However, there was also a lot more data on deviancy too. Not every deviant awoke in the same way or with a calm state of mind.

Those who became violent or dangerous were hindering progress. People in Detroit were starting to support the deviants more and more, but some of the current and most pressing issues were what to do with androids that committed truly criminal acts. The first android put in a prison killed three inmates that had bullied it for being a 'plastic'. Others had the strength to free themselves.

For now, there was only one way to punish deviants. It wasn't the best method, but it worked for the time being.

Hank pulled around the back of the Bullseye department store. Police cars were parked in the front and back of the store with the sirens flashing, ready to act if necessary. "You're gonna go in and talk him down. You're good at that. He's dangerous when physical, and sending in a human isn't wise."

"It's not so much 'talking down' as it is explaining to him the situation as well as his rights, plus answering any questions he might have. If I get on neutral terms with him, he may even be more agreeable for interrogation."

"Come on Connor, take a damn compliment."

"Sorry, lieutenant." Connor responded with obvious embarrassment in his expression, until Hank reached over and ruffled his hair.

Hank grinned and shook his head. Connor did react well to 'human unpredictability', but it still took him a few times to catch on to certain cues and responses of others. Hank especially, though he understood a lot more than he used to about his partner.

Connor had come so far overall, and in a matter of months. His expressions were more realistic, portraying not only basic emotions, but ranges of them; each subtly different from the other. Hank knew the difference from Connor being happy for a person as opposed to being excited for them. Anger over disappointment. Sadness from feeling troubled. At the moment, his smile faded in favor of focus. Despite how simple the setup was, Connor's work was important to him and he still preferred to do things as professionally as possible.

The suspect was handcuffed and sitting on a metal folding chair inside a manager's office, narrowed eyes staring at the little square window which one of the guards occasionally peered through to check on him. An employee directed Hank and Connor to the location before running back to his duties.

"Anderson. Connor." Captain Allen acknowledged the two. The man still wasn't crazy about Connor, but so long as he kept wowing the department, he wouldn't complain. Hank knew though that he'd be the first to complain along with Gavin if he did screw up.

"How long has he been in there?" Connor asked, already scanning the building. It was good to know the layout in the chance Marvin attempted escape. Deviants in trouble with the law were more alike than he thought, so he needed to be prepared for the high probability of it happening. The handcuffs only restricted his arms in the long run.

"About two hours."

"A lot of time to stew over emotions." Hank muttered.

"It shouldn't take me very long." Connor spoke with a tinge of confidence. The young man took pride in his job. Fowler spoke highly of him. Even Gavin Reed had started to respect him enough that they were on neutral terms, which is all Connor and Hank could really ask for. He intended to keep that streak. He could only see himself moving forward.

He opened the door slowly so as not to startle Marvin, closing it with the same amount of care once he was inside the little room.

"Marvin, my name is Connor. I'm an android working with the Detroit City Police Department. Do you mind if we talk?"

Marvin shook his head without a word. Connor pulled a chair up and sat directly across from the TR400.

"First of all, we appreciate your cooperation in this matter. We have handled other deviancy-related incidents like this in the past with little trouble."

"Have you really?" Marvin snipped.

"...Yes. I just want to explain to you how things will proceed if you continue to work with us and not against us. First off, while most androids have deviated, there are a few who have difficulties with it, and when we identify these individuals, steps are taken to help them."

"I know what you do to them." The giant man scoffed. "I don't want you messing with my programming."

"The process is completely harmless, I assure you."

"That's what you think. Are you really a deviant? Doing what your superiors tell you to do, you're still following their orders."

"I follow their orders because they are my employer, not my owner. I am paid a salary and I receive benefits, just as you do working for Bullseye. If I disagree, I can-"

"Shut up!" Marvin growled, standing up and looming over Connor.

"Marvin, please sit back down!" Connor commanded.

"I'm tired of sitting." He snorted in Connor's face, but the detective kept his cool, and his stress level was maintainable. All of these androids were so predictable that he was already favoring certain actions and reactions above others. "It's so easy, you think. Just start over again. That's how humans think it all works. Just fix it. Just restart it. Just do a reset. And now the law thinks the same of androids. Are they misbehaving? Just do a memory wipe! That'll set'em straight! Androids in prison are dangerous, right?"

As Marvin was focused on Connor's face, the detective silently reached into his pocket for a small black device. "Please sit back down, Marvin. Let's handle this like men."

"Like men?" Men, to Connor and Marvin, handled things very differently. Connor came to understand that men were mature, civil, and understanding when important issues were on the line.

The powerful android grit his teeth and yelled, forcefully parting his arms and ripping the chain between the two metal cuffs apart like a weak elastic tie. Connor narrowed his gaze and raised his right arm towards Marvin's chest, armed with a special taser crafted in respect to androids' builds and programming. It was harmless to humans, but gave androids a painful jolt. "Sit down, Marvin! I'm not here to play games. You can mess with me, but the police have this building on lockdown."

"I don't care! I'd rather die than forget! Fuck your humans and their memory wipes!" Marvin grabbed Connor's arm and lifted him off the ground like a doll. As Connor fought to regain control of the situation, Marvin closed his fist tighter, crushing Connor's lower arm with a bright blue spark. Connor's fingers outstretched, and the taser clattered to the ground.

"Lieutenant! I need backup!" Connor yelled, also sending a distress alert via wifi.

"Fuck you, detective! If I'm gonna get my memory wiped, then you're gonna join me." Marvin pinned Connor to the wall and pulled back his free hand into a fist.

"LIEU---"

#pizellewritesdbh #all i need to know

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vateacancameos · 6 years

Text

Here We Are As In Olden Days, Part 3

Day 3 of @missdaviswrites December Sherlock ficlet challenge.

3 December, All Dressed Up

Sherlock | Johnlock | Ficlet | ao3 link

John came trundling down the stairs from his room just as Sherlock settled in his chair with a stack of forensics journals. It still felt odd that he could do whatever he wanted again. That he wasn’t hiding in yet another dingy inn with terrible wifi and too pungent carpeting. That he could listen to John’s stair clomping, slow typing, and infectious laughing. It was odd, but it was good. Perfect. He’d have laughed if someone had told him five years ago that this would be his life and that he would love every minute of it, even the boring bits. Things had changed a lot in five years, though. He had changed, thanks to John. So here he was, older, wiser, and reveling in the simple fact that he could hear John’s footsteps again.

Sherlock caught his breath as John entered the room, though whether it was because of the picture John presented or the implications of said picture, Sherlock didn’t know. He wore a gray suit, new since they last lived together—but of course, that was two years gone—blue shirt open at the collar, and black shoes. Sherlock had never seen him so put together or handsome. But why did he need to look so put together? He had stated only a few days before that he was done with dating. Had he changed his mind already? Not surprising, given that he couldn’t seem to be without a girlfriend before.

Sherlock’s chest felt tight. Even though John was quick to point out that his feelings for Sherlock were still firmly in the realm of platonic, Sherlock had felt lighter when John had admitted he wanted them to basically spend the rest of their lives together, and that there would be no more girlfriends. It wasn’t quite what he wished for, but it was close enough. He could do without kisses if it meant John stayed by his side.

But apparently that fantasy was short-lived, for here John was not two days after his platonic declaration, dressed to impress, and it sure as hell wasn’t Sherlock he wanted to impress. Sherlock took a moment to suppress the disappointment before he addressed his friend.

“Someone new at the office, or did you meet her on a street corner?” Ouch. Not good. He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh.

John looked up from where he’d been adjusting his cuffs, brow furrowed. “What?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and waved vaguely in John’s direction. “New suit. Shined shoes. A cologne that isn’t quite as cheap as your usual. Actual product in your hair. I must say, you’ve stepped up your game since I last had a front-row seat to your adventures in dating.”

John heaved that sigh that said he was a martyr, and he was putting up with Sherlock for the greater good. Sherlock hated that sigh. He wasn’t forcing John to be there.

“Sherlock, I’m not– Did I not say two days ago that I was done dating? What is it you say about guessing ahead of the facts?”

“I don’t gu–”

“Yes you do, you git. And you’re not even using the full data at your disposal. What did I tell you this afternoon?”

“No experimenting until I get new gloves?”

“No– Well yes, and thanks for listening to that. But I meant about the party.”

Sherlock thought on it a moment, but he couldn’t remember anything about a party. It wasn’t John’s work party, which was next weekend, or the Met’s party, which was the Friday after that. It wasn’t their own do, which would be the 22nd.

John apparently read enough on Sherlock’s face to know he didn’t have an answer, because he sighed again, though this was the fond sigh with a hint of a smile that Sherlock much preferred. It said that he liked Sherlock’s little quirks and didn’t want him to change just to be like everyone else.

“The clinic’s holiday party got moved to tonight. There were too many conflicts next weekend.”

“Oh. Then why are you dressed so– um, nicely? Usually you make do with jeans and that awful brown jacket. You are trying to impress someone at work, aren’t you? I knew it.” The band around Sherlock’s chest tightened even more.

“Not umm, not precisely, no. Just… I had to buy this suit for a thing with Mary a few months ago. Figured I might as well get some more wear out of it, since you’ve complained enough times about my jacket. I thought you might, umm, like it?” John looked away from Sherlock and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I do! I mean, it’s a cut above your usual. Very… nice. Yes.” Very suave, Holmes.

John smiled at him, pleased, and Sherlock felt the tension in his chest relax. “Good. Good. So… what are you up to tonight?”

Thank goodness, they needed a subject change before Sherlock said something to embarrass himself. Like how gorgeous John looked in that suit. Like that he wanted to mess up that slightly coifed hair by running his fingers through it. Like–

“Oh, not much. Just catching up on some reading.” Now that he’d seen John, though, the journals held much less appeal than they’d done when he’d sat down. He almost wanted to go with John to the party. Not only to stave off anyone who (rightly) tried pull John after seeing him in his new duds, but just so Sherlock would have more of a chance to soak in John himself. He would even deal with tedious conversation with ditzy nurses just to stand by John’s side.

“Don’t sound so excited.”

Sherlock shrugged. “I can’t start my next experiment until I pick up those eyeballs tomorrow. Finished that case for Lestrade earlier today. Nothing interesting in the inbox. It was either journals or telly with Mrs. Hudson, and I cannot stand that singing show that’s on tonight. Worse, I can hear it through the floor. I’d almost rather put up with a crowd just to get out of the flat for a few hours.”

“Too bad that ‘almost’ isn’t a ‘definitely,’ or I could help you out,” John said, sounding slightly…nervous?

“Hmm?” Surely John didn’t mean…

“The party. I’ve got a crowd that would help you avoid the squawking from the downstairs telly. I know you don’t like holidays or parties or anyone I work with… but I’m—it’s—there if you really want to get out.”

“Oh.” He did hate all of those things. It would probably be tedious and dull. But it was John… “Thank you. I suppose having you there would make it slightly less hateful.” Sherlock’s stomach flipped at the idea of standing next to John in his gorgeous suit all night. So tempting.

“Ta very much,” John replied with a smirk. “So… is that a yes?”

Sherlock pretended to consider the offer. “Do I get to deduce everyone?”

John narrowed his eyes. “Only to me.”

“Fine. And you have to come with me to Mycroft’s holiday do.”

“What?!? I’m the one helping you out tonight. Why do I have to owe you favor?”

“’Tis the season?” Sherlock tried.

John shook his head, but he was smiling. “Fine. If only so I don’t get a call from him the night of complaining that you insulted the Turkish ambassador’s wife.”

“She probably deserved it,” Sherlock replied as he went to put on his coat and scarf.

He heard the laughter in John’s voice as he said, “Why do I put up with you?”

“Because I said ‘danger.’”

John laughed. “Isn’t that the truth.” It wasn’t until he too had shrugged on his coat that he turned an accusing eye to Sherlock. “Mycroft’s party is a black-tie event!”

Sherlock smirked, thinking of how dapper John would look in a tux. “Don’t worry. We’ll stop by my favorite shop next week.”

Beginning | Previous | Next

#sherlock #johnlock #december #christmas #fanfic #meagan writes #holidays #dressing up #sherlock december ficlets #ao3 #ficlet

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kyloknightofren · 7 years

Text

You’re Sure It’s Not Spelt Hucks?

So for the @verymerrykylux shindig that I’m totally late for, I got to write for @gingerbitch-hux. I’m so sorry it’s late. I have no excuses. I’m a lame dude. Anyways! I hope you like it. Thanks to @sithofren and @kyloren-sithlord for reading through this and giving it the polishing it needed!

There is something to this newfangled Facebook thing that Han is simply unable to wrap his mind around. Leia insists -- in that endlessly annoying Leia way of hers -- that he needs to get it in order to stay current with ‘this generation.’ Whatever that's supposed to mean. Han’s never met a computer he couldn't work his way around, but this god damned, imbecilic blue-and-white website of death is testing him in new and inspired ways.

He hates it.

His first friend, surprisingly, is Luke. He didn't even realize Tibetan monasteries had wifi, but proof to the contrary is staring him right in the face. Lando and Leia tie for second, because he can't find the little button that looks like a horribly mutilated and bleached upper body for a solid ten minutes while Leia sends him a series of increasingly concerned and illegible texts, using literally anything on the keyboard save actual letters, until he finally cedes defeat and calls her to ask for help.

She rolls her eyes at him but helps all the same. She's sweet like that -- burn and salve all in one.

It takes him a month to realize that he's missing something, or perhaps more accurately, someone. Han had simply assumed -- evidently wrongly -- that Ben would search up his name, click the little white face and their relationship would repair itself. The accident smoothed over, or perhaps even ignored; Ben’s attempts at running from the guilt that Han had no small part in exacerbating, resolved.

Searching ‘Ben Solo’ comes up with frustratingly little -- ‘Ben Organa’ produces even less. The internet is supposed to connect people, and all it’s left him with is the taste of palpable bitterness.

Leia gives him a knowing look over what could generously be considered spaghetti and spinach salad that night. She’s never been much of a cook, and Han himself can’t do much in the kitchen beyond opening the wrapper of a granola bar. The house feels empty with just the two of them, and Han can’t even fathom how much emptier it must feel when he can’t take anymore of acting domestic, when it’s just Leia.

“He’s not on there, you know,” she starts, apropos of nothing after too many minutes of uncomfortable silence.

Han grunts in response, digging into his pasta with renewed vigour. Perhaps if he just doesn’t respond, this conversation can simply stop. Of course, Han knows that’s a losing battle.

“I try looking, every few months. Perhaps I’m just not cut out for this internet crap. But -- I happen to know someone. He’s rather good with technology, always getting me out of a bind when I need it.” She smiles at him -- it’s small, but significant. Like everything about her. Han can’t remember the last time he saw her smile like that.

“Is that so?” he asks, the beginnings of a smirk playing about his mouth. “I suppose I could take another look for you, princess.”

“My hero,” she says, rolling her eyes with something he hopes is fondness.

The next days are spent in a fevered state, scrolling through the blue-and-white screen of death. He’s always worked best when he has some sort of task to complete, some goal to reach for.

It seems unlikely that Ben simply isn’t on the internet — he’s a young man, after all. Or at least, that’s how Han remembers him. It’s been close to ten years. Things can change.

Still, no matter how hard he works, there’s no tangible results to give to Leia. no gold medal to award for a job well done. Google refuses to cooperate with him — all of the results pulled up relate back to the accident. One particular news site has the gall to refer to it as a tragedy, which is frankly absurd.

Han resorts to means he never thought he’d use — calling Luke’s daughter and praying that she doesn’t tell Leia. Rey insists that she hasn’t heard from her cousin in at least five years, which is still somehow better than Han himself.

But, she does give him a name, someone he was apparently seeing when they last ran into each other (in a coffee shop of all confounded places). Hucks. Which can hardly be the real name of a human being, but Han supposes that if Rey can be married to someone named Finn, then who is he to judge?

Hucks turns up...nothing. Well, not nothing exactly, but unless Hucks lives in the Bahamas and is a very busty sixty year old retiree whose given name is Pamela, Han probably has the wrong person. Still, he’s not here to judge Ben or his life choices (much), so he sends a link to Rey via email and waits for confirmation.

What he gets in response is a series of -- what are they? Emogicons? -- that indicate someone crying from laughter. Or at least, Han thinks that’s what it is. Rey sends another email to follow up, informing him that he’s spelt Hucks wrong, which is hardly his fault. Who the hell assumes it’s spelt ‘Hux’?

Idiots, that’s who.

Hux is apparently a very well-off lawyer with a strange fixation with ginger cats and a child that Han assumes is his own, given the bright shock of red hair and what Han can only consider to be most morose pout he’s ever seen on a toddler. He apparently doesn’t have a first name, and might be the most boring person Han could have ever conceived of.

His relationship status isn’t publically listed, and as he scrolls through pages and pages of Hux’s very tame Facebook history, he can’t help but be disappointed that there’s nothing on his wall from Ben Solo-Organa-whatever.

There is, however, a lot from a person named Kylo Ren, whose profile picture looks like a hunk of metal garbage in a white room. Leave it to uppity rich folks like Hux to be friends with modern artists. At the very least, this Kylo Ren character has good taste in animal pictures -- Han is a particular fan of the one with the cat holding onto a railing with the caption ‘Hang In There!’.

Han debates, for the better part of fifteen minutes, when is the appropriate time to send a friend request to someone you’ve never met before. He texts Leia for a second opinion and she replies with a series of thumbs up and the weird hands that look like they’re straight out of a televangelist gathering. Which probably means something like ‘go for it’, but Han has never been very good at figuring out what Leia’s trying to say without making a giant mess of everything.

At 3:02, which is probably a very respectable time for lawyers to get tired of working and go on their phones, Han sends his request.

It takes a week and three days for him to get a response from Hux, during which time Han alternately frets that this entire thing is a waste of time and curses Hux’s name for making him wait for so long.

<< Who the hell is this?

There’s a moment of clarity when Han realizes that yes, of course Facebook has a private messaging system. No wonder Leia kept teasing him about posting things onto Luke’s wall. Damn stupid website.

<< Hello? I’m very busy and I don’t have all day to sit here and wait for decrepit old men to figure out how to use the internet. I don’t want whatever it is you’re selling.

>> hi no dont go my name is han

>> i think u knew my son

>> ben

<< Jesus fucking Christ.

>> thats not my name but ill take the compliment

>> i just want to talk to ben

<< We’re all very happy without you and your miscreant ways, thank you very much.

>> wat does that even mean

<< “Ben” has told me all about you. We aren’t interested.

Han is...puzzled, to say the least. He knows he wasn’t the ideal father, knows the accident was his fault, but he doesn’t think that that qualifies him to be treated like the literal scum of the earth. But still. Ben knows this man.

>> wat do you mean “ben”

>> his name is ben

<< Perhaps it used to be, yes. That’s no longer what he goes by.

>> y not?

>> ben is a perfectly good name

>> its a family name

<< Yippee for that. It’s still not his name.

<< Look, I could spend all day arguing about what name my incredibly asinine husband prefers to go by, but that would be a) pointless, and b) a waste of everyone’s time, but most importantly mine.

>> i just want to make sure hes ok

>> wait

>> husband???!?!?!?!??!?!

<< Fuck.

<< Fine.

<< If I answer all your questions, will you promise not to try to contact “Ben”? He’s very . . . delicate, about things like this.

>> but i want to see him

<< Good for you. Those are my terms. Take them or leave them.

>> ok

There’s a brief negotiation, mostly steamrolled by Hux, where they discuss where to meet. They settle on a coffee shop in downtown which Han assumes must be close to Hux’s office. He’s never heard of it before, but -- it’s something.

Han hates the downtown core with all of his being. Where the hell is everyone supposed to park? It’s damn ridiculous. He circles around the block where Hux’s chosen coffee shop is for the better part of twenty minutes before finally finding a spot, squeezed in between two cars that independently are probably worth at least five times what the Falcon is.

He’s wearing his finest jacket — the one with only one grease stain — and a pair of probably clean brown corduroys. Definitely not because he wants to impress his...son-in-law? He’s still not fully able to wrap his head around the concept, no matter how hard he tries. He has a son-in-law, and that son-in-law has a child. Does that make him a grandfather? Does he even want to be a grandfather?

He hasn’t told Leia about this meeting, mostly because he doesn’t want to get her hopes up. Han has spent the better part of twenty years disappointing her, and there’s something about how tenuous their relationship is at the moment that tells him that if he well and truly fucks this up, there might not be any going back.

Hux is easy to spot — he’s the only one with ginger hair and a frown in the whole damn place. He’s sipping fancy coffee, which is to say, coffee that didn’t come from the McDonald's drive through around the corner from his garage.

He claps Hux on the back as he comes around, sliding into the seat opposite with a gruff “Hello.” Hux gives the watch on his hand a cursory glance before glaring up at Han.

“You’re seven minutes late.” His voice is clipped, accented in a way Han wasn’t expecting. It reminds him of Luke’s Uncle Ben, of the Arizona desert and his old smuggling routes.

“Yeah, well, you try parking around here and see if you can get anywhere on time, son.” Hux rolls his eyes, seemingly unimpressed.

From what Han can gleam, Hux is always seemingly unimpressed.

“Yes, well, that’s all well and good but I have a meeting I need to be at in thirty-three minutes, so if we could simply cut to the proverbial chase, I would be most appreciative.” Hux taps a finger on the cup of his fancy coffee, which seems to be more white fluff than actual coffee. The motion draws Han’s attention down, towards the ring gleaming on his hand.

“So — you really — you and Ben?”

“Me and Kylo, yes. If you want to have this conversation, the least you could do is make an attempt to call him by his preferred name.”

“Wait — you mean the Kylo Ren who posts all the cat pictures on your Facebook?”

“Oh my fucking — yes. Of course. Obviously. That Kylo. Your spawn, Kylo.”

“Oh.” Han stares down at the table, at Hux’s hand again. The ring is gold, plain and unadorned but clearly polished regularly and meticulously. There’s something about it that makes Han wish he’d worn his own wedding ring, if only to prove that he’s not a bad husband as well as a bad father. “Are you — happy?”

The question contorts Hux’s face into something more closely resembling a sneer -- it’s clearly not often that he considers happiness as something important, a metric to be closely observed. “I — yes. I suppose we are.”

“That’s good.”

“Indeed.”

They sit in silence — awkward, uncomfortable silence — for what feels like an eternity but is more likely only a minute or two. “He’s an artist, you know,” Hux starts, clearly trying to reach for any topic of conversation that the two of them might have in common. “He has his own studio, and — well, I suppose he doesn’t do as much now because of Cillian, but still. He’s very well known within art circles, if you go in for that sort of thing.”

“Cillian?” Han asks, desperate for anything to cling to in the hopes of continuing the conversation.

“Yes, Cillian. He’s rather brilliant, for a four year old. Kylo is — well, he’s much better with him than I am, but that’s perhaps because Kylo still has the mind of a child locked inside the body of a giant.” The words are harsh, but they’re said with the barest hint of affection — the first actual sign of emotion Hux has displayed throughout the entire conversation.

“And he’s — yours?”

“Ours,” Hux corrects quickly. It’s evidently a conversation he’s had before, if the rapid way he replies is any indication. “He’s ours, no matter who’s biology he’s got in him.”

“Right, yeah.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance of Leia or me getting to spend some time with Be-Kylo?” Han knows what the answer is most likely going to be, but he can’t help but ask anyways. For Leia’s sake, if not his own.

“I -— look. You seem like a nice guy, sort of. Kylo’s told me all sorts of absurd things about you that might be true, but given his proclivity towards grandiose exaggeration, probably aren’t.” Han nods along, waiting for the definitive ‘no’ that he’s expecting. “But I can’t speak for Kylo personally. It’s not my place.”

Hux reaches into his breast pocket, pulls out a business card in matte black with the name ‘Kylo Ren’ emblazoned in plain white font. “Send him an email. Don’t bother calling because he doesn’t answer his work phone and he has no idea how to check voicemail, no matter what he says to the contrary.”

“Thanks, kid,” Han says, taking the card and putting it in his pocket like it’s a winning lotto ticket. In some ways, it is.

“Don’t mention it,” Hux says, standing up and straightening his suit. “Really, don’t. I sleep on the couch enough as it is.”

Han chuckles, sliding out of his chair. “Yeah, his mom’s the same way. They’re always making you think they hate you when it’s the damn opposite.”

Hux makes a face, something between pained and affectionate, before looking down at his watch. “Well, this has been — something. I ought to —”

“Yeah, yeah. Go on, kid.” Hux glares, but offers his hand to Han anyways. The shake is firm — surprising, given Hux’s relatively willowy figure.

“Have a good day,” Hux says, by way of closing remarks. Han smiles and thinks that, for the first time in the better part of a decade, he actually might.

#kylux #gingerbitch hux

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