#the WAY i would kill for that shot that was Meant to happen of van (dead) (as an adult) appearing as a ghost as a teenager to tai.
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killingly by katharine beutner // yellowjackets (2021 - present)
#yellowjackets#taissa turner#van palmer#jackie taylor#shauna shipman#lottie matthews#and laura lee but i honestly. do not ever tag her. sorry laura lee.#it's about haunting.#the WAY i would kill for that shot that was Meant to happen of van (dead) (as an adult) appearing as a ghost as a teenager to tai.#i love the wolf thing the haunting by your worst mistake / by the wilderness / by your good as dead ex girlfriend but just Once. once .#edit*
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For a snapshot imagine a driver accidentally hurting the reader and she has to hide it from Danny because he would lose his shit. He gets worried but a bit angry that she’s lying the cause of it. Once he finds out he wants to kill the other driver because is a severe injury
The Taste of Temptation || DR3 {4}
WC: 1.6k
F1 Masterlist Story: One || Two || Three || Four || Five
Snapshots One || Two || Three || Four || Five
You settled into the driver’s seat of an Aston Martin used for hot laps, keeping your arms out of the way while you were harnessed in. Lando and Oscar doing the same in the other two cars parked beside you, except they didn’t need the extra help to be buckled in. “I’m telling you now, this is a bad idea. I want that on the record. There’s a reason I’m a passenger princess.”
“You’ll be fine,” Lando promised over the headset and you fiddled with the dozens of buttons on the steering console. “Just don’t touch anything!”
“You should have told me that before.” The cameraman sat beside you laughed nervously and you narrowed your eyes at the lens. “If I die, I want you to remember this: I told you so.”
You muttered under your breath that you were not paid enough for the crap your employer put you through but it only made Oscar and Lando laugh as the microphone picked it all up.
“Okay, we’ll start off with a warm up lap, just take it slow and get used to the car,” Oscar said as Lando led the way onto the track. “I’ll follow so you don't get lost.”
“It’s a flippin circle, Piastri, how often do you get lost?”
The car shot forward, throwing you and the cameraman back into your seats as you pressed the accelerator and out of reflex you slammed your foot on the brake to counter the effect. Oooph! The air was squeezed from your lungs as the car stopped but your body kept going forward, the harness like a wall hitting your chest.
“I think you’ve put it in race mode. Turn it to sport mode.”
You scanned the buttons and saw what he meant, making the adjustment before tentatively touching the accelerator, gently speeding up to 70mph.
“I know we said take it slow but you can speed up a little bit,” Oscar teased as he tailgated you, Lando nowhere to be found up ahead.
“You do realise I am not actually a racer? I just date one.”
“Danny must have taught you something in the last two years.”
“Yeah,” Lando interrupted with a giggle. “But from what I heard, it isn’t anything to do with racing.”
You might have laughed if you weren’t concentrating so hard on following the track, until something caught your eye. “Uh, Oscar, are there wombats in Canada?”
“No…that’s a groundhog.”
Another brown ball of fur charged across the track and you screamed as you slammed on the brakes, not wanting to hit the poor animal. Oscar hadn’t expected you to brake so suddenly, or try to swerve aside. There was nothing you or he could do when you started to spin out, straight into the space his car was aiming for.
“Shit, shit, is she okay? Is she okay?”
You could hear the panic in Oscar’s voice as he tried to push his way through the crowd of first responders trying to open your door. Pain radiated down your arm but other than that you seemed to be in one piece, except the world was upside down. “I told you so.”
“What the hell happened!” Lando exclaimed as he arrived at the crash site in time to see you escorted into the back of the medics van. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“Not particularly,” you murmured around the tube you bit between your teeth. You sucked in another deep breath of pain relief as your arm was jostled and looked up to see Lando shaking his head.
“Not you,” he said as he looked at Oscar’s pale face. “Daniel’s going to kill you, mate.”
“No, he’s not,” you huffed as you got off the stretcher you had been guided to. “I’m fine so he’s never going to know.”
“You see those,” Lando stabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Those are cameras, they record things, pictures, sounds. Yeah, he’s gonna know.”
“I know what a camera is, a heavy one just fucking hit me.” You cradled your arm to your chest and took a calming breath. “This wasn’t live so it’s going to be a few weeks before this even gets uploaded. By then I’ll be fine and we can all have a laugh about it, alright. I just need to make sure Danny doesn’t hear about it before then.”
“Kind of hard when you need to go to the medical centre.”
“Then I won’t go.”
So you didn’t.
You did however accept the box of pain relief and advice to see a doctor if the pain persisted or you showed any signs of a concussion. You weren’t worried so much about that since the helmet had protected your head, it was just your arm that took the brunt of a camera smashing into it.
Daniel was surprised to see you already in the hotel room when he arrived from his meeting. Usually you stayed at the paddock later in preparation for the upcoming races but he was happy to have a few extra hours alone with you.
Leaning across the back of the couch, he greeted you with a kiss but you pulled away as his palms trailed down your body. His touch had been soft but you had still felt the burst of pain in your arm and you were glad to be wearing a long sleeve shirt to hide the bruised skin.
He frowned at the distance you had put between your bodies and he was instantly on edge. “What’s wrong, kitten?”
“Nothing, I’m just not feeling very good.”
He grabbed his phone and opened the app that monitored your monthly cycle before closing it with a frown. “Should I call for a doctor? Do you have a fever?”
He reached for your forehead but as his hand lifted it brushed against your arm and your face pinched as a pained cry hissed through your teeth.
“What happened?” he asked with barely restrained rage, his fingers desperate to touch you but unsure if it was going to cause you more pain. Tears were already welling in your eyes as you tried to keep the ruse up, but it was becoming unbearable.
“There was an accident,” you admitted as the wet streaks ran down your cheeks. “I didn’t want you to worry…”
“You’re hurt, kitten, of course I’m going to fucking worry.” He swiped the room key back up from where he had tossed it along with his phone and keys. “Come on. We’re going to the hospital. Now.”
You knew he was fuming from the clipped tone and the white knuckle grip he had on his keys. Reaching out with your good hand, you laced your fingers with his and whimpered into his chest. “I’m sorry.”
Daniel gently wiped the tears from your cheeks before kissing your forehead with a shaky breath. “I’m not angry at you, love, but don’t you ever lie to me again, not when it comes to your health.”
You nodded meekly before he reached for the door handle where he paused. “Lando or Oscar?”
“What?”
“You were filming with McLaren today.” He looked back at you, scanning your face for the truth. “Who do I blame?”
“It was an accident. Please, Danny, can we just go? It's so sore.”
His eyes softened at the admission and he twisted the handle but you knew the conversation wasn’t finished, merely delayed.
“He broke her fucking arm!”
The wince had nothing to do with the doctor setting the cast on your arm and everything to do with Daniel’s voice out in the corridor. He had been on the phone the instant the X-ray came back and showed a clear fracture down the bone. Now you were going to have a bulky accessory on your arm for the next six weeks.
“You’re lucky it was only her arm or I’d be on my way to jail by now,” he growled as he pushed the door open and shoved his phone back in his pocket.
“It was an-” you fell silent under the glare you knew wasn’t actually directed at you. He hated to see you hurt and hated he hadn’t been able to prevent it. It left his hands trembling with rage.
“I don’t know what they were thinking,” he muttered as he fell into the chair beside your bed and lifted your good hand to his lips. “Stupid fucking little videos...promise me no more.”
“But it’s my job.”
“Then quit,” he offered, like it was the simplest option in the world. “It’s not like you need it, I take care of you already, and I like taking care of you.”
“Danny…” you sighed, unsure how to approach the situation. “What if we ever broke up?”
“Is that in your plans?”
“No, but-”
“Good, because I plan on keeping you forever, and I’m more than happy to make that official. Obviously this is just a placeholder until we get home.” He started to pull the ring he wore on his pinky finger. “What? I’m terrible at losing shit, I wasn’t going to carry around your engagement ring until I found the right time to propose to you.”
You chuckled as he waited for your hand to unfurl from the fist it was in. “And you decided this was the right time?”
“I could have lost you today, kitten, I’m not going to waste another moment.” Your hand uncurled and the warm metal slid onto your ring finger before he kissed it and leaned in to kiss you too. “You’re mine, always.”
“Always,” you promised against his lips.
“Perfect, if we elope today I’ll get conjugal visits when I kill Oscar.”
Click here for part five
#the taste of temptation#daniel ricciardo imagine#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo x you#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#formula one imagine#formula 1 fanfic#formula one fanfiction
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Check-ups Can be Rough
Arthur Morgan X Male Reader
A/n: A little fanfic idea I had while doing laundry, please don't ask why I am just really gay for this cowboy.
Warning: a slight sexual theme towards the end
Some of the men in camp had just gotten back from a decent-sized robbery, Arthur and you included in that group. Now in camp, you were quick off your horse and ushering the men into your medical tent to be checked before they were allowed to go about the rest of the day.
You were the camp's actual doctor, as helpful as Reverend Swanson's medicines could be in the harder situations, you were actually trained in what you did by professionals. Those same professionals taught you how to use a gun, specifically long-ranged weapons, you favoring the sniper. It was actually your attempted killing of Dutch van der Linde that brought you into the gang.
Charles went into the tent with you first, as he was usually the one in first if no one was obviously hurt. He wasn't ashamed to get checked over by the doctor, other men in camp thought going to you was a slight show of weakness.
After Charles was Javier, then John, a stubborn Bill Williamson, then Micah
Arthur would have gone after Charles but Dutch wanted to speak with him just as he had gotten back. Never one to half-ass things, you had Arthur promise to come to visit the medical tent after he was done, even if you gave him a quick once-over to see he was fine.
So, after talking with Dutch, he made his way over to your tent. Most times your tent flaps were closed when checking over someone, but you had assessed that none of them were hurt enough to need the privacy of a closed area. This meant Arthur could see you looking over Micah as he walked up.
He stayed quiet outside the tent, crossing his arms and leaning against one of the poles of the tent fixed to the ground, simply watching you work.
Arthur wasn't too ashamed to admit he was impressed by you. You worked in an efficiency he could only dream of achieving, always on point with everything you do but especially your shots. He's seen you first hand down men 100 meters away, and that was with a bow!
Then came your medical work. You never left anything to chance, not a cut, bruise, cough, or sneeze that happened in camp you didn't hear and check on. It was seen as overbearing and unnecessary to some, but Arthur knew that this carefulness came from a good heart.
You'd confided in him about how you were taught. Sure, you had read some books, but you were mostly learning by action. You saw firsthand how even the smallest cut could kill a man by infection, that an unassuming bruise of the skin could lead to amputation because of an ignored issue.
You knew you could be a bit too much sometimes, but after coming to care about (almost) everyone in camp, their wellbeing was on your mind constantly.
He watched you switch between looking over Micah's physical form to listening to his breathing and his heartbeat, which made the man swat your hands away.
"Alright alright, we're done here." He stands from the chair you had everyone sit in, glaring at your hands. "I ain't need to be fussed over anymore, I'm fine."
"That is for me to determine, Mr. Bell." You grit your teeth at him, putting away your stethoscope, pushing on his shoulders to sit him back down.
"Everyone gets the same checkups, and I just had to dig a 3-day-old bullet out of your shoulder."
"And I'm telling you, Doctor," Micah spits out in mockery. "I'm fine."
Micah goes to push you off him, but you shove him into the chair quickly. You put your knee on his chest, forcing the chair to lean back and hit the table behind it. Micah flailed for a moment but went still when you just as quickly brandished a small nearby scalpel (still clearly covered in Micah's blood from getting the bullet out) and put it close to his throat.
"Now, Mister Bell," You speak lowly, your eyes going dark as you lean in closer to him.
"I am a doctor, the only one here, in fact. You may not like it, but I'm the only one who can keep you alive in this camp, and if I see fit? I could turn a blind eye to your injuries."
Despite being pinned in a chair, leaning back on a table, and unable to sit up, Micah chuckles darkly.
"You ain't got the nerve." His voice dripped with venom. " The only kills you've gotten were from people dumb enough not to look in the trees, you monkey. Even today, you were hiding away and shootin' from afar, too afraid to fight like a real man."
"A real man, you say?" You scoff, leaning back and letting Micah's chair fall back to the ground as you back away.
You turn from him to the table on the other side of the tent, and having thought he won, Micah smirks.
Then, yelps and flinches as a much bigger knife than a scalpel embeds itself into the chair, right in the space between his legs and extremely close to his nethers.
Micah looks at the blade in shock then turns his head up to look back up at you, still standing in the motion of throwing it. A dark look in your eyes as you sigh through your nose.
"I'll tell you right now, Micah Bell, as good as I am with a rifle?" You point to his crotch. "I'm even better with a blade."
Looking back down, Micah sees that the blade was so close to his crotch and so sharp, that it sliced a thin hole right through it. While looking at the knife he doesn't see you walk over and pull it out of the chair's wood, swiping it near his face so close that it took a few strands of hair with it.
You take a cloth off your belt and wipe the blade down as if it being close to Micah was enough to dirty it. You turn your back to him once more and wave the blade out, dismissing him.
"Now get the fuck out of my tent."
Micah sat for a moment in stunned silence, as if he didn't expect you to openly threaten him within earshot of others. But then he huffs, standing quickly and stomping out of the tent, pushing past Arthur even despite having enough space to leave.
Arthur had watched all of that happen with so much focus, he only just noticed after Micah had left that his eyes were dry from leaving them wide open the whole time.
He wasn't sure why, but his heart was racing and his face felt hotter with every passing moment as he replayed what happen in his head. The way you silenced Micah, the way you held the blade, the way you stood, the way you talked. Everything about what happened made Arthur feel... something.
"Arthur," you called out, snapping him out of his thoughts as he looks at you.
You have a growing grin on your face as you clean your hands off in a bucket of water.
"Looking to camp in my workspace?"
Arthur gives you a confused look as you chuckle a bit and point down at his pants, a mischievous look in your eye.
"With your tent pitched I assumed you'd be staying awhile."
Horrified, Arthur looks down to see that, indeed... he had a very visible bulge in his pants. He gave an awkward cough, taking off his hat to cover himself, all the while you laughed.
If he wasn't red and hot in the face before, he sure as hell was now, your laughing at him sure didn't help.
"Alright, big boy, let's get you checked out quickly so you can deal with that in private."
With the realization of some feelings he had towards you, he also came to the conclusion that this was by far the most embarrassing medical checkup he's ever had.
#arthur morgan x male reader#arthur morgan x reader#rdr2 x reader#rdr2 x male reader#rdr2 arthur morgan#x reader#x male reader#red dead redemption fanfic#character x you
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Dutch Motherfucking Van Der Linde in timewarp au.
@themodernpr0metheus because this is your fault be warned it's 1400+ words
so much to process. every single damned character in timewarp is affected by the very idea what became of Dutch Van Der Linde again let alone how they're meant to handle it when Dutch comes back. also gentle reminder that in the report the bureau wrote that John shot and killed Dutch so that's a whole other conflict they're going to have to deal with
also for the 1899 gang it's been 12 years. honestly for most of them it's been 12 years the only person who really interacted with dutch after 1899 was Micah and Dutch fucking shot him. Micah is still salty about it. look at that rat man you know he can hold a grudge.
12 years, no Dutch. Hosea's nearing his 70s, he has his wife and a house. Lenny, Jenny, Karen and Sean aren't kids anymore they're well into adulthood with legitimate jobs. Arthur and Charles are the new curious couple with Isaac their unruly son. Kieran doesn't jump or flinch anymore when people try to talk to him. Hosea really got everything he wanted - they're out of the gang, they're safe and happy.
Also Dutch isn't the only one coming back in a relatively short time period. They have to go all the way to Mexico to get Javier and Bill. They have to get John!! John, who was shot at the house Charles and Uncle helped him build for Abigail, who stared down a firing squad because it gave Abigail and Jack time to escape. They absolutely have to be there for John.
Hosea thinks long and hard. Dutch: who left Lenny to bleed out alone, who was willing to leave John to be executed in prison, and left Arthur to die alone, and abandoned Javier and Bill. Dutch: who formed another gang and killed innocents, used Muriel Scranton as a human shield before shooting her IT WOULD HAVE BEEN MORE OF A DISTRACTION TO LET HER GO ALIVE DUTCH. Is it everything he feared would happen to Dutch? Is it the Dutch he started to see glimpses of after Blackwater or did he know, deep down, this is what Dutch was always capable of?
What's the pettiest, bitchest thing he can do? Absolutely nothing. Hosea Matthews sits down with the gang trying to prepare for the 1911 returns and says that he is not going to get Dutch Van Der Linde. He is not going to see Dutch, talk to Dutch or help Dutch. Dutch is not welcome in his home or near his family and he doesn't expect nor want any of them to afford him the luxury of coming into their lives.
Annabelle is the one who goes to collect Dutch from the base of a cliff. The last time Annabelle saw Dutch, he was young and idealistic, and she had to read about Blackwater and everything that came after it right up to his death. She needs to see him so she can understand how someone she did genuinely love became something so evil that the people who did love him had to sit down and seriously ask themselves if he could be redeemed.
And Dutch Van Der Linde hits her with the 'you're as beautiful as the day I lost you'
She so nearly, nearly faulters. God as much as she hates him she wants to believe there is a reason, a sound, logical reason how Dutch abandoned so much of the ideals that made him Dutch. It's a tremendous burden only people who have loved Dutch know but deep down there's always a part of you that will love Dutch, as much as you try to kill it. She desperately wanted to believe she as the oldest, the most separated from Dutch, she was over it - but it's there. That awful demon is clawing its way back into her mind as she wonders if she can fix him, if she can save him and make him something recognizable again.
She knows damn well this is why Hosea knew he couldn't be the one to get Dutch.
Remembering why she has to be the one to get Dutch, to protect the gang she is now part of again and cares so much about from falling into the very real, intoxicating charm of Dutch, she holds her ground. Pulls away and tells him to get in the back seat of the car.
She takes him to a very nice, private, well-researched, pre-booked and thoroughly inspected in-patient mental health ward. the gang themselves have argued whether or not Dutch did the things he did because he was mentally ill or hit his head too many times or if he would've become a monster regardless but they do agree something is not right with Dutch and frankly 24 hour medical supervision is probably something he needs regardless because no one wants to just… bring him into the homes and lives they've tried to hard to build in modern era.
i promise, dutch is thriving. the d in dsm-5 might stand for dutch once the doctors are through with him but he's getting diagnosed with A lot.
they're paid to listen to him so he's going on so many rants and giving speeches and they're sitting there listening and nodding and asking questions (as they frantically write notes) and he's just basking in the attention. -> this. this is dutch's life
also dutch getting to finally admit to and work through his grief over what happened to the gang. he saw the old guard die. he lost so many people he cared about. he lost john. john left. john would've moved on completely after micah's death if not for the bureau. and the gang did lose faith in him, even before then. he felt it, he knew it. they did betray him (in his warped sense of betrayal)
also just dutch getting into intense philosophical and ethical debates with both his doctors and other patients. his doctors knowing they are absolutely not meant to engage when dutch is on a rant but it's just so fun debating with him
medication does help get Dutch back to something closer to 'old Dutch' he's still very grandiose but he's calmed down to the point he isn't reckless he can recognize when his behavior is crossing into outlandish
it's inevitable the gang do reach out to him and find it personally terrifying how close they can get to forgiving him before they remember all the shit they went through as a direct result of Dutch's actions
occasionally take him out on day trips but he is not getting to the point where he can be left to roam freely. Dutch always was and always will be a dangerous person when he can morally justify it to himself.
Dutch reuniting with Hosea hits so hard. hosea can only avoid him so long and dutch is old and tired and pulls hosea into a hug on the verge of tears and hosea cannot stop himself from hugging dutch back he still loves him god damnit he loves his wife but he will always love dutch and seeing dutch get help and try to become his old self again would hurt so much in such a positive way
his doctors (who have searched dutch van der linde and now think Dutch has delusional disorder and only thinks he is the Dutch Van Der Linde) do not think he has actually committed murder but the gang know he is very, very capable of murder
dutch is an avid triple mango vape enthusiast. no one knows how he keeps getting them.
he still thinks everything would be fine if they just went to tahiti
he is the #1 evelyn miller fan and thinks evelyn miller's death is further proof of his brilliance. during supervised computer time he will be on the evelyn miller subreddit and sometimes needs to be forcibly removed from the computer because he becomes so enraged at bad takes
the gang are all very protective of their kids being around dutch when he is there (including micah who does not want his stupid annoying pain in the ass grand-nephew kai to become Dutch-ified) but somehow they managed to raise well-rounded young people who just shrug and go 'lmao dutch is talking again'
dutch goes on volunteering excursions for habitat for humanity (under annabelle's supervision) and thoroughly enjoys it. he gradually becomes less 'fight the system for the good of all man' and more 'focus on the good i can do in one (second-chance) lifetime'. all i want is aged dutch in the modern version of his 1911 outfit kneeling in muck and smiling because he's Actually helping people again and he didn't know how much he missed it
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mission accomplished [ scaramouche x reader ]
fifteen | stay
prev masterlist next
as things go downhill, you tried your best to salvage what's left and figure out a way to unfold the mysteries behind the culprits of the crimes. after sleepless nights and stressful thinking, you ended up sick instead. how will you continue your work now?
warnings: swearing, overthinking, mentions of blood and murder, lots of comfort, scara takes care of you, me overusing the only one bed trope idea on my series once again lmao
a/n: *drum roll* thank you SO much for 100 followers! i never thought i'd get this far and i'm glad everyone's enjoying this series. as a reward, this chapter is around 3.7k words!! let's hope ma has a happy ending hahaha... happy reading!
grammatical errors may occur so please let me know if i've made any mistakes!
as soon as the mug hit the floor and shattered into millions of pieces, scaramouche immediately jolted from his position on the couch. he swiftly turned his head to you, eyes widened and worry cradled his face.
“holy shit, are you okay?!” he asked worriedly, though his words fell on deaf ears as time seemed to stop for you.
he's dead?
is this real, or are you just hearing things?
scaramouche's phone was still in your hand, the call you were on with childe a second ago still there, meaning he's heard everything.
“what's that sound? y/n, what happened?” childe's voice popped up from the other line, but his words too had no answer from you.
the ravenette beside you took his phone from your hand. “i'll call you back.” he said flatly, and ended the call.
putting your hands on your head in disbelief, you dug your feet to the floor, not even minding that there were shattered glass everywhere, resulting in your feet starting to bleed from the sharp object.
james words from the other day played back in your mind.
this isn't over.
was this what he meant?
you think again. no, that's impossible. who in the world would kill themselves just to get back at someone?
wait.
the trial.
he just came back from the trial yesterday.
he was supposed to be sent to jail right after you were done.
the trial might be displayed on the news.
snapping your head up, your eyes instantly landed on the tv screen.
“the 34-year old drug trafficker was found dead this morning in a police van, with the driver missing.” the news reporter said, face stoic. “he was initially to be sent out to teyvat prison after the man was dealt with a dreadful trial. it has been going on for a year now, and the trial was officially finished the other day, with the man, james, being guilty.” she continued.
fuck. your name might be exposed. your real name. with your face. everyone's gonna know who you are.
and what's worse is that your cover's going to be blown.
how did it get this fucked up in just a day?
please don't say it.
you repeated those four words for an infinite amount of times in your head.
please, i can't afford to lose this case.
“the trial involved a detective from the only prestigious precint, the fatui precint, who was shot by the victim over a year ago.”
you shivered, biting your thumb nail anxiously.
“reporters have started showing up at the precint upon hearing the devastating news, wanting to hear what detective–”
the tv news got cut off.
you perked your head up in confusion. “huh?”
scaramouche was dumfounded too, mouth left agape.
you turned to him. “is this from the news or is it our tv?”
“...pretty sure it was the news.”
what?
who in teyvat had that much of power in snezhnaya to make the well-known national news get cut off?
your phone on the coffee table lit up, the soft melody of your ringtone started ringing through the living room.
ah, sure, if it isn't the one and only.
your worry for your cover about to be blown up dissipated, now only confusion plastered on your face. picking up your phone, you answered the call.
“captain.”
the usual busy noise of the precint was now replaced with a much more chaotic one. shouts, screams, and every single disorderly sound can be heard from the other line. “y/n, there's something–”
“you were the one who did that, right?” you cut her off.
the tsaritsa's voice changed to confusion. “huh? what do you mean?”
you huffed. “don't play dumb with me, i know you were the one who cut off the news right before my name got revealed.”
“...i seriously have no idea what you're talking about.” she said, panting from who knows whatever she's doing.
you raised a brow, though stopped when you remembered that she couldn't see you. “then why did you call me?”
the tsaritsa sighed. “i–” she stopped for a second, scattering for what you assumed were crime files. “the precint is a whole mess right now, people are trying to barge in here to get you in the spotlight for some reason. but now that i heard what you said, i assumed words got out that he's dead.” she said.
“i suggest you stay inside your dorm for the next few days, i'm afraid people will find out who you are sooner or later.”
“but...” you shriveled. “you don't know anything about what happened to the news?”
the tsaritsa sighed once again, sounds of footsteps emitted from your phone. “i have no time to watch the news today, dear. sure, i have enough of a connection with all of the higher ups in this nation, but i don't even have an ounce of idea on what you're speaking of.”
huh, who could possibly be responsible for that now?
“please, take care of your safety. refrain from going out for a while, you'd have to hold off the case for now.” she concluded.
you were silent a few seconds.
“i'm sorry, y/n. this was unexpected, and it's all we can do for the time being.”
you held your phone more tightly than before, knuckles turning white. “it's... it's okay, i understand.” you said, voice almost breaking.
“we'll try our best to not get you exposed and have your cover blown. i know this case is important for you, so everyone here will help you with whatever we can.”
letting out a breath, you replied. “i'll see what i can do, too. thank you for your help, captain. hope i'm not too much of trouble to you guys.”
“it's alright.” she muttered. “i'll have to leave now, this place is a complete mess. i'll call you back soon.” she ended the call the second she finished her sentence.
ah,
everything's surely fucked up now.
you slowly placed your phone on the coffee table and buried your face in your hands. scaramouche was awkwardly sitting beside you the whole time, not knowing what to say or do.
he looked down on the floor and saw your, now wounded feet, glass sticking onto them with blood slowly dripping. you probably had no idea your feet were in pain from the shattered glass, and even if you did, you were too busy to even think about it, the adrenaline running quick as you were too bundled up with emotions.
widening his eyes, he let out a bunch of curse words under his breath and quickly placed your legs on the small coffee table. he got on his feet and avoided the shattered glass as he took off and went to get the emergency aid.
you didn't pay much mind with what scaramouche's doing, so you spent the time he was out of your sight by thinking about your current situation.
how is he even dead?
who killed him?
was this what he meant the other day?
is this going to affect your career?
question after question pops up in your head, making you the more agitated.
archons.
what happens when your cover gets blown? everyone in campus is going to find out who you are, and you'd be sabotaging your own case. what happens when people have already found out who you are? are you going to be the talk of the campus? will viktor find out about your cover? will yun jin get disappointed that you lied to her face?
you realized you've been caught up in your own thoughts for too long when you've noticed that your mug that was shattered on the floor were now gone, all swept up by the short male beside you.
speaking of which, he was already starting to treat your injured feet. he looked up from the emergency aid placed on the couch, averting his eyes to you.
you were in shambles, your hair was all over the place, face confused and anxious.
he sighed, brushing over your knees to bring both of your legs to the couch with one arm, tending to your injuries in an instant. you were turned around on the couch to face him, eyes averting elsewhere.
none of you spoke for a moment as he helped you patch up. the antiseptic going through the wounds made you wince, cursing yourself for getting in such a state.
after a while, you decided to kill the silence by letting out an airy chuckle, though no amusement laced your voice. “what the hell am i gonna do now?”
scaramouche looked up from his position, finishing up from cleaning and patching up your injuries. “what do you mean?” he asked.
you glared at him. “are you fucking stupid? you exactly know what i'm talking about.” you spat, making him frown at your sudden bitterness.
you immediately stopped once you've realised what you said.
“i... i'm sorry. i didn't mean that.” you mumbled, eyes on your lap.
the ravenette sighed, putting the emergency aid aside and looked back at you. “i know.” he simply said.
the wound on the sole of your feet from the incident earlier were now all patched up and nicely done, thanks to the short male in front of you.
“come here.”
you perked your head up. “what?”
he rolled his eyes. “you heard me. i'm not repeating it again.”
“um... why?” you asked, suspicious of him.
“must i need a reason? come over here.” he demanded a second time, one hand hovering over your knee to make you scoot to him.
you raised a brow, but obliged anyway. moving closer to him, you faced him on the couch, seeing each other eye to eye now with your legs crossed and your knees touching his.
“what now?” you grumbled, arms folded.
without waiting a second, scaramouche pulled you into a hug.
in the past, it was always you who embraced him, never failing to pull him close and cling on him during the trial. but right here, right now, it was him who initiated it, making you shocked, and slightly flustered.
you left your mouth agape, not knowing what to do. scaramouche had his chin on your shoulder and his arms wrapped around you tightly, as if you'll vanish the moment he looses his grip on you.
“i–um...” you trailed off, unable to find the right words.
the male in front of you rubbed your back with one of his hands, trying to cheer you up. “we'll figure out a way.” he muttered, referring to the rising problem.
you silently sat there for a while before you finally got to your senses and hugged him back, face nuzzling into his neck, humming at his sentence.
he smells nice, you thought to yourself, as you take in the faint scent of his body wash still lingering around his figure. you nuzzled into his neck more, eyes closing at the comforting warmth of his body.
scaramouche sighed at the small affection, his thumb tracing small circles over your hips, pulling you closer than before. he paid no mind to the lack of space and gap between you both.
the current position you two were in was ridiculously uncomfortable, but the warmth and comfort scaramouche gave was what you really needed at the time being, so you ignored it— even if you'll end up with cramps later on.
neither of you bothered to move anyways.
and it is true. you two will find a way— you always do. if you both can solve thousands of problems in the 5 years you've worked together, then surely it won't be too hard to figure out a way to solve this particular one.
right?
it was midnight when you felt like absolute shit.
you've spent the last couple of days trying to find out the culprit that cut off the news, and the one who killed james, but you seriously couldn't pinpoint on who it is.
while you were held off from going to classes for the time being, scaramouche had to keep an eye on viktor two times more frequently now to make up for your absence. both viktor and yun jin have asked him about you, even going out of their way to try and personally call you.
the ravenette had to make up a lie saying that you were sick and needed some time alone.
the only difference now is that the lie is probably becoming true.
“oh for archons sake...” you groaned, the headache that's currently trying to kill you being the reason you can't get up from bed. you were bundled up with your blanket, body cold to the brim.
for some forsaken reason, you got sick.
you're not sure how, when, or where you got it, but for whatever reason it is, you really hope this won't stop you from continuing the work you've been piled up on, you think as you tried your best to get out of bed.
“shit!” you yelped, accidentally rolling off the bed instead with you wrapped around your blanket like a burrito.
the sound of you hitting the floor resonated the small room, and you silently cursed yourself once again for getting in this mess.
you've been staying up and pulling all nighters this past week, trying to rack you brain as much as you can. since you were out from classes, you thought that it'd be way quicker and easier to find the culprit, but it seemed that your conclusions were wrong.
it was no doubt that you had fallen sick from the amount of times you've stressed yourself over your work, exhaustion clearly shown on the growing eye bags on you.
the sound of footsteps from the halls were evident to your ears, and next thing you knew scaramouche was at your door, knocking a couple of times.
“i heard a noise, did anything happen?”
you just grumbled loudly as a response, hoping that he heard you. the door opening and the lights that came from the hall illuminated your room concluded that he probably did.
“...why the hell are you on the floor?”
“'m sick...” you mumbled, voice muffled from the blanket you're wrapped around. you hoped he could decipher your words.
“huh?” he walked over to you and pried off the blanket from your face, crouching down to the floor. “why do you you look dead?”
“i'm sick.” you said it again for the second time, voice hoarse from dehydration.
“what?!”
you rolled, facing the floor. “just get me some water and i'll be good as–”
“how the fuck did you even get sick?!” he cut you off, grabbing your arm and rolling you back to face him. he brought up a hand and placed it over your forehead, the scorching hot temperature seeping through your body. “shit. you're hot.”
you smirked mischievously despite your current condition. “i know i am.”
scaramouche slapped your shoulder, making you whine, saying that this is not the time to be making jokes.
you slowly sat up, and leaned against the lower part of your bed. “'m fine. just some painkillers will do and i can go back to my work.” you commented, looking at the ravenette.
“you're burning up yet you're still thinking about work, you're unbelievable.”
“you know me. can't live without work.” you muttered.
scaramouche stood up, offering his hand to you.
“come on.”
you looked up at him, his shadow towering over your figure. “where are we going?”
“to your bed. you need to rest.”
groaning, you flailed your arms in frustration. “don't wanna go. floor's nicer.” you whined.
he rolled his eyes at you. “whiny when drunk, whiny when sick, there's absolutely nothing that'll make me surprised about you.” he went closer to you, urging for you to take his hand. “hurry now, or else i'll carry you up myself.”
“you wouldn't dare.”
upon hearing your comment, he immediately crouched down and wrapped his hands around your waist, making your breath hitch, and heart pounding.
“try me.” said the ravenette with his voice suddenly an octave lower, the warmth of his breath fanning over your ear, and his face just inches away from yours.
you're flustered, he thinks, given how you're so quiet with your eyes as wide as saucers and mouth left slightly opened.
he smirked to himself before lifting you off the floor and throwing you on the bed, making your previous flustered self vanish, replacing with a small yelp instead as you landed on the bed face-first, a very annoyed expression plastered on your face soon after.
“that's not very gentleman-like of ya.” you said, voice muffled by the pillows you were buried in.
he ignores your complaint. “get some rest. i'll come back later.”
and off he went, leaving you and your sick self alone in the small room.
he came back roughly thirty minutes later.
you hadn't realised he came back, too busy fixing your eyes on the work in front of you, frantically writing about your theories with the energy you have left.
it was when he placed a tray at the end of your bed, and snatched the papers and pen from you was when you realised he was present.
“what the hell are you doing? i thought i told you to rest up.” he coldly looked at you, though if you looked a little more closer then you'd see just a tinge of empathy in his eyes.
you grumbled. “give them back.”
“no.”
“please?”
“if you want to end up in the hospital, then be my guest.”
you didn't say anything else.
he took the tray at the end of your bed and placed it on your nightstand. looking at the stuff on the tray, you've realised that scaramouche had served you a bowl of chicken soup, with a glass of water and some medicine.
you averted your gaze to him. “you made this yourself?” you asked, pointing out to the soup he's made for you.
he hummed, taking a sit near you. reaching for the bowl, he offered it to you.
“don't really feel like eating.”
he groaned at you. even when you're sick, you can still be the bitchiest, he thinks.
“the food's gonna get cold if you don't eat.”
“then so be it.”
he sighed, bringing up a hand to rake his hair back in frustration, before an idea popped in his mind.
he took the spoon from the bowl, taking some of the chicken soup and blowing over the hot broth. he scooted closer to you and brought the spoon to your mouth, his other hand went under your chin to avoid spilling over the soup.
you raised a brow, asking him what he's doing. he only shrugged, and brought the spoon closer to your mouth, your lips touching the utensil filled with chicken soup.
after what felt like forever, you finally caved in and opened your mouth, allowing scaramouche to feed you. you sighed in contentment, the warm and delicious broth hitting down your throat.
it went on for a couple of minutes, with him blowing off the steam to feed you, and you sitting quietly on your bed with your back against your bed frame, he fed you until the bowl was empty.
you reluctantly took the medication from his hand after he nagged you about the consequences to your actions, and by the time everything was settled, you were getting tired.
yawning, you finally felt like going to sleep after countless of sleepless nights.
scaramouche helped you get ready to bed, tucking you in with your cozy blanket wrapped around you once again. you mumbled out a thanks to him for taking care of you, making him smile halfway, saying that it was nothing.
he cleaned up after everything and just as he was about to leave, you grabbed his wrist.
“hm? do you need anything else?” he asked the last question of the night, turning back to you.
you were pouting.
it was kind of adorable, scaramouche thinks. you barely do such an expression, and seeing you do it now made his ears go slightly red. you're being cute without even trying, with you being sick no less.
it was almost comical how it made his heart skip a beat.
“don't go.” you mumbled lowly, only for his ears to hear.
he placed the tray back on your nightstand. “you need to rest up, y/n. we can see each other in the morning, i'm not going anywhere.”
“no.” you fought. “stay with me.”
widening his eyes, he stared at you in shock.
your grip on his wrist tightened. “please.”
it wasn't a question. you were pleading. you were actually begging him to stay with you, despite the very big hole in your relationship.
he always knew you'd be clingy and whiny whenever you're sick, but he didn't expect for you to be so bold and impetrate for such a shameless request.
“...fine.” he sighed, obliging. “i'm only doing this just so you can rest.” he said, taking a seat at the edge of your bed from where he previously sat. “i'll leave once you're asleep.” he caressed the hand that was holding his wrist, leaving fluttering traces along your skin.
you pouted again. “noo..” you whined. “sleep with me. in bed.” you corrected, making him widened his eyes even more than before.
“that's such a ludicrous request. i'm not getting in bed with you.”
you grumbled, tugging his hand harshly to make him come closer to you. “c'monnn... don't wanna be here alone.” you pressed, giving him your signature puppy eyes whenever you needed something so badly.
damn it, he silently said.
you're absolutely ridiculous for asking such a thing.
and he's absolutely ridiculous for indulging in your pleas.
sighing for the hundredth time that night, he loosened your grip on his hand and climbed over to the empty side of your bed.
he placed a pillow in the middle to use it as a makeshift barrier and plopped back on your small bed. “i'm not holding you. sleeping on the same bed is already preposterous enough.”
“'s okay.” you assured. “'least you're here with me.”
he only hummed as a response, not wanting to say more.
it wasn't long before you two were finally pulled back to sleep, with pillow barriers blocking the only small gap between the both of you.
how you two ended all tangled up and arms wrapped around each other the next morning (and the makeshift barrier pillows thrown elsewhere on the floor) was something even the archons couldn't answer.
and then the next day scaramouche catches a cold /j
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Here's some interesting news for you : https://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-69008577.amp
What's a bit chilling is that it happened literally ten minutes after I went through that exact toll booth on my way to work. It's not every day that your very tiny city of a thousand people makes international news, sucks that it had to be for something like this though.
Maybe if the fucking toll booths worked properly this wouldn't have happened
Two French prison officers have been killed in an ambush on a prison van near Rouen in Normandy.
Prisoner Mohamed Amra - known as "The Fly" - was being taken from court to a prison when a car rammed the prison van at a toll booth.
Gunmen then opened fire at prison officers, with two officers killed and two critically injured.
Several hundred police officers and gendarmes have been deployed to carry out a manhunt.
French President Emmanuel Macron wrote on X that "everything is being done to find the perpetrators".
Prosecutors identified the inmate who was freed as Mohamed Amra, born in 1994.
Amra was convicted of burglary on 10 May and had been indicted by prosecutors in Marseille for a kidnapping that led to a death.
Who is escaped French prisoner Mohamed Amra?
The 30-year-old inmate is said to have ties to a gang in the southern city of Marseille, which has been plagued by drug-related gang violence.
At the time of the ambush which led to his escape he was being transported back to jail in the town of Évreux after attending a morning court hearing in Rouen.
The ambush took place around 11:00 (09:00 GMT) near a toll booth on the A154 motorway.
The officers were shot with "heavy weapons" by the prisoner's accomplices, according to French Justice Minister Eric Dupond-Moretti.
The attackers escaped in a car which police believe they have now recovered, abandoned near the toll gate where the attack happened.
Roadblocks have been set up across north-west France, with police following up on every tip-off.
Speaking to the media following a crisis unit meeting, Mr Dupond-Moretti confirmed that two officers had died.
"One leaves behind a wife and two children who were meant to celebrate their 21st birthday in two days. The other leaves a wife who is five months pregnant," he said.
"Everything - and I mean everything - will be put in place to find the perpetrators of this vile crime," Mr Dupond-Moretti said, adding that the perpetrators were "people for whom life has no value".
They would be found and punished "in a way that is proportionate to the crime", he said.
____________________
>punished "in a way that is proportionate to the crime"
y'all don't have capital punishment, so not sure what that would be at this point, I do hope they get them though
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i remember his hands - chapter 2
PAIRING: kang the conqueror x fem!reader
SUMMARY: after a scientific experiment goes horribly wrong, you've been transported to the quantum realm and have been stuck there for the past decade. with no company, aside from janet van dyne, your life changes forever when a mysterious man in a golden ship crash lands next to your settlement. startled with his initial presence, you two have a rocky start. but as time goes on, you two find each other slowly drawn to one another. you have secrets though, and he has a past he refuses to bring up. can you two make it through navigating an unknown world together, discovering any ulterior motives, and stand the test of time in a place where time has no meaning at all?
INFO: slow romantic burn, pretty fast sexual burn, kinda enemies to lovers????, takes place during that little flashback janet has during quantumania, idk how accurate this is gonna be to canon stuff cause i get very confused about the quantum realm lol, reader is in mid to late 20s while kang is in his “early 30s” (ik he like technically doesn't age or whatever idk the lore but i just made it accurate to jonathan majors age and wanted to give an accurate age range/gap/count), y/n will be very fleshed out like i'm gonna give her everything lol
WARNING: bl00d mention, explicit language (both swearing and ig sexually)
CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 2.9k
NOTES: i just now realized the summary said y/k this whole time instead of y/n, i knew something looked off lmao 😭 just ignore that lol. also if you guys want me to make a taglist, just lmk in the comments and if you want me to tag you or not
PREVIOUS PART
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To your surprise, you opened your eyes to find yourself alive in your bed. Your head throbbed in a sharp, piercing pain. You looked into the mirror that sat in front of your bed to examine your facial injuries. You had a bandage wrapped around the right side of your head. As you went to touch the place where the rock was smashed into, you winced from the pain as it shot into your head. It wasn’t as deep of an injury as you thought it would be, but it wasn’t doing you much good either. You also noticed a bruise on your left upper cheekbone, very quickly growing into a black eye. You assumed it was from when the man tackled you into the creek. You moved down to your throat area to find two dark purple bruises on the front side of your neck. Other than those injuries and a couple of scratches on your arms and knees, you figured you were in better shape than your attacker. You wondered what ended up happening to him. If you were here alive, it meant he probably survived too. Left out there, he was probably finished off by roaming mites. Either way, it wasn’t your problem anymore.
You hear a knock at the door. “Come in”, you struggle to get out, a spiky pain going down your throat after you the words escape your mouth. Janet opens the door and walks over to your bed with a glass of water and some more bandages. “Yeah that sounds as bad as I thought it would be. Whoever caused those neck bruises was really trying to kill you”, she replied, sitting down next to you on the edge of the bed. “Really? I thought the bloody dent in my head would be more of a giveaway”, you sarcastically reply in pain. You got a small chuckle out of her. “Even a near death experience couldn’t take away your wonderful sense of humor”, she jokingly replied. You smiled at her remark. Janet went to unravel the bandage on your head. You grimaced as she tried to rip off the parts that were dried on by the blood. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine”, she said after noticing the expression on your face. “You’re a tough girl. One of the strongest people I’ve met.” A slight smile crept onto your face. She dipped a cloth into the bowl of water, then started to dab it onto the wound. As much as the process of getting to it sucked, you enjoyed moments like these with Janet. You know, even though finding you out there bleeding out from your head probably almost scared her to death, that she enjoyed them too. You took a sip of water from the glass she gave you, which improved your throat pain significantly. Once she finished cleaning your head, she wrapped another bandage around the wound. “Alright, I’m fixing up some breakfast for you in the kitchen. If you need anything, just ring this.” She placed a little bell on your nightstand as she gathered her stuff to leave.
After failed attempts to fall back asleep, you decided to head out to the kitchen to help Janet. You gently placed your legs over the edge of the bed and slowly stood up. You slightly limped over to the mirror to assess yourself again. Your head looked slightly better with the change in bandages, but the bruise on your cheekbone had now fully turned into a black eye. You winced as you placed your fingers on the swollen area around the bone. The bruises on your neck had stayed about the same size as the last time you saw them. You rolled up your pant legs to find two bandaged gashes on your right knee, most likely from the tackle as well. You slowly turned and hobbled towards the door to walk into the kitchen. You made your way across the hallway of the cabin into the kitchen and living room (it was more of just a little kitchenette with a couch in it). You rubbed your eyes to adjust to the fluorescent lighting of the room. As you opened your eyes again, you could hardly believe what you saw going on by the couch.
Janet was kneeling on the floor next to couch, tending to the same man who tried to kill you. She was cleaning up a cut he had on his left tricep, as he laid there shirtless on the couch. Your heart sunk as your eyes laid on him. He was still unconscious, but the thought of your attempted killer being in the the same house as you made you nauseous with fear. “Janet!” you whisper yelled at her, half from the fear of waking him up and half from the pain still in your throat. She didn’t turn around. You yelled again. She rolled her eyes as she finished changing the bandage and walked over to you. “What is he doing here?” you asked like she was insane. “I couldn’t just leave him there to become mite food y/n”, she truthfully replied. “Uh, yes. Yes, you very well could have. You are aware of the fact that he almost killed me, right?” you asked, still concerned the situation wasn’t getting through to her. “Yes I am, and that’s exactly why I brought him here.” All you could do in response to hearing her say that was nervously laugh. “Listen to me y/n, I’ve been here for much longer than you have. So I know for a fact that when people arrive here, it’s either from some extremely fucked up accident, or for a very important purpose. I believe he’s here due to the latter. We need to keep him alive to find out that purpose, alright?” she snapped at you. You hadn’t seen this side of her much, so whenever you did, you knew she meant it. You nodded in response. “Alright” she said as she took a deep breath “Now help me with breakfast.”
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He could see the bright white lights seeping in from his eyelids as he slowly opened his eyes. As he regained consciousness, he immediately felt shooting pains in his shoulder, abdomen, and foot. His groaning caught Janet’s attention as she walked over to where he was with damp cloth. He tried to move back slightly, but if he moved any more, the pain would get worse or he would probably fall off the couch, which was definitely too small for him to lay horizontally on it. Janet looked at him for a consenting look before taking the cloth to the right of his abdomen. He hesitantly nodded. He groaned through the stinging pain of the water mixing with the bloody wound. “I’m surprised you were still alive by the time I got you inside. This one right here should’ve had you dead within the first three minutes of getting bit” Janet said to break the silence. “W…Where am I?” he asked tiredly. “My cabin. I’ll tell you the rest of it when you’re awake enough to pay attention to what I’m telling you.” Janet placed her hands on his back once she noticed he was trying to sit up. He cried out in pain through his teeth as he tried to sit normally. “Woah, woah, woah, I don’t think you’re ready for that yet”, Janet said concerned. “No time”, he said between short breaths. “Need to get back to the sh-.”
He cut himself off when he saw you standing by the kitchen counter, your back to him and you head lowered. He kept his eyes on you for a bit and examined your frame, trying to understand how someone as small as you could reduce him to this. You could feel his eyes on you, like a laser burning into your back. The longer the moment went on, the more you wanted to take the knife nearest to you and finish the job you started. After what felt like hours, he finally turned his face back to Janet. Being able to tell what he was going to say next, she said “She lives here with me. And before you ask, no she isn’t going anywhere. And until you fully heal, you aren’t leaving either.” Janet turned to face both of you. “And until that time happens, I need you two to try to not kill each other. Alright?” You reluctantly nodded your head. He did the same. “Ok good.” Janet finished with his abdomen wound and walked over to you in the kitchen. “I’m going into town for a bit to get some more medical supplies, so I’m going to need you to finish with his shoulder and foot” she told you, already noticing the horrified look creeping onto your face. Your heart sunk and your eyes widened hearing her say that. “Janet, no, there’s no way. You leave me here alone and there is no doubt he’ll kill me” you whispered quite enough so he wouldn’t hear. Janet pulled you outside with her to talk. “Listen, I know you don’t trust him and I don’t entirely either, but have you seen him? It would take a miracle for him to get up right now and charge at you again. Plus, I need you to try to get information on him while I’m gone, ok?” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “Ok.” “Thank you.” Janet gave you a little peck on your forehead. “I’ll be back soon.” She started walking off into the distance. With Janet’s good luck kiss, you turned to the door to walk inside. As you went to turn the doorknob, you noticed your hand slightly shaking. You took one last deep breath to calm yourself before walking inside.
You walked inside, determined not to make eye contact with him the entire time. Once you got to the kitchen counter, you could already feel his eyes on you again. You could’ve sworn he had some kind of laser eye power, because you could feel yourself getting hotter with each passing second. It was almost paralyzing how it made you feel. “Could you stop that please?” you finally said, hoarsely. You heard a slight chuckle from him. “Sounds like I did a number on you after all. Not good enough though, since you’re still walking” he replied in a rich, slightly menacing tone. It was enough to send a slight shiver down your spine. You could hardly believe Janet trusted him enough to not kill you. You took yet another deep breath, and grabbed the bowl of water, a sewing needle and thread, a roll of bandages, and a damp cloth. You still avoided eye contact, but out of your peripherals, you could see he was still staring at you. What you couldn’t tell though, was if he was slightly smirking or not.
You placed the bowl down on the ground and you sat right in front of his foot. You reached to unravel the bandage wrapping his left foot, but he moved it away. You sighed. You knew exactly what he was doing. Giving in to what he wanted, you finally make eye contact with him. His eyes were just as sharp and full of anger as they were when he first punched you in the chest. “Please don’t move. This will be easier for both of us if you stay still”, you say to break the tension. You go back to his foot to unwrap it, but he moves it yet again. You huffed to yourself and turned back to him. “Listen, I know you’re upset with me over the arrow, and I’m sorry. My intention wasn’t to hit you. But I have every right to be mad at you as well. Now I know you don’t want me here, but I hate to break it to you, you’re stuck with me until Janet gets back. Now can you please hold your foot in place so I can take off this god damn bandage!” you yelled as loud as your injured throat let you. You must have turned red or something because you noticed a smirk slightly tug on his lips. He moved his foot in front of you. “Thank you”, you remark, turning away from him again.
You unravel the bandage to find Janet already stitched up the wound on his foot. That made things easier for you at least. You took the damp towel and dabbed it on the wound. You couldn’t believe you were here, cleaning the wounds of the same man who just tried to kill you. Apparently he couldn’t believe it either, since his eyes were still locked onto you. You finished applying the water and wrapped his foot back up. You moved over to his shoulder next. You were much closer to him now, forcing you to have to take looks at him. It was the same expression every time though. Anger, mixed with annoyance, mixed with a hint of fascination. You unraveled this bandage. This was the one Janet hadn’t gotten to yet. You figured this would give you a chance to redeem yourself though, fixing up the wound you gave him. You kneeled in front of his shoulder with the threaded needle and stuck it into the wound. As soon as you put it in, the man clenched his teeth and groaned in pain. He wiped his face with his hands in anguish.
You pulled the needle through the skin, and at some point you must have hit a specific spot, because his hand shot down and took hold of your thigh to hold as leverage. Butterflies flooded into your stomach as he squeezed your thigh with every pull of the needle and thread. You looked down and took notice of his hand once again. Noticing how big it was, how tense it would get, and whether he did it with intention or not, how he would occasionally trace his thumb across you clothed skin. Once previously around your throat, now seizing your thigh and tightening its grip with every movement of the needle. You felt your cheeks getting brighter with each tighten. Part of you thought he was doing this to fuck with you, but the looks you saw on his face proved you otherwise.
Being this close allowed you to take notice of all his facial features now. From his plump lips, to the two identical scars running down his face. You knew they had to have some sort of story behind them, but you decided to ask another time. You were unable to reach a certain spot on the inner part of his shoulder, so you sat up slightly to move more into him to reach it. This is when it hit you how close you two were. Feeling his hot breaths on your cheek, hearing his slight moans and groans of pain, and now with the movement of his hand from on top of your thigh to your sensitive inner thigh. You were embarrassed to admit the combination of everything made you slightly wet. You had to use your spare hand to push two pieces of his skin together that were too far apart for the needle to get in naturally. As you pushed, he moved his right hand to grab yours. Now that it was touching your bare skin, you could fully appreciate the feel of his skin on yours. You felt how rough it was as the calluses on his hands slightly scratched against your knuckles.
You finished up and closed the wound and started dabbing it with the damp towel with the same hand that was holding the needle. He still hadn’t moved either of his hands, his moans and groans now turned into short pants. You sat there for a second, embarrassed with how comfortable you suddenly were with him. Part of that embarrassment also went towards how wet his hand being on your upper inner thigh made you. “Are you ok?” you asked, having to say something in fear of what you would do if you just stayed like this. He nodded slightly. He opened his eyes after having them shut from the pain and looked into yours again. Only this time, they weren’t filled with anger. You couldn’t tell what look this one was. Maybe weakness from his pain. Maybe wonder. Maybe…. After clearing his throat, he finally took his hand off of yours. Then, almost as if he were teasing you at this point, he dragged his hand off your inner thigh agonizingly slow, finger by finger. Cheeks flushed and stifling the noise you felt building up in your throat, you grabbed your materials and moved them over to the kitchen counter and made your way back to your room without saying another word. “Wait”, you heard him call out. You popped your head out from behind the hallway corner and stood there waiting for what he was going to say.
“What’s your name” he asked softly.
“Y/N” you hesitantly answered.
“...I’m sorry for earlier y/n.”
“I’m sorry too…” you signaled to him for his name.
“Kang.”
“I hope you heal well, Kang.”
“You too.”
You walked back over to your room, using whatever self control you had to stifle any feeling that might have been awoken in those moments.
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NEXT PART
A/N: dude i dont think you understand how much i enjoyed writing that HJFHJF. there will be more to come soon dw. but i hope you enjoyed this chapter (this took up 9 google doc pages lmao) since shit actually happened lmao. as regarding whenever chapter 3 comes out, it might take a little while since the ideas for the preview-chapter 2 came to me super quick, im still thinking about what direction chapter 3 will take. It shouldn’t take any longer than a week, but please just be patient. thank you for reading!
#i remember his hands#kang the conqueror x reader#kang x reader#kang the conqueror#ant man#quantumania#fem!reader#fanfic#fanfiction#mcu fanfiction#mcu phase 5#marvel mcu
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TwiFicmas23 Day 5: Smoke & Mirrors
Good evening!
Tonight is a snippet from an upcoming one-shot, Smoke & Mirrors. It's a canon AU where Alice ended up going South as soon as she wakes up, and ends up being a competing Southern Warlord. It's meant to be a fun little one shot, set around Breaking Dawn, but needs major edits and rewrites, so I thought a snippet from the OG draft might be fun.
I'm half asleep, so I'll bid you all adieu and I hope you enjoy this!
smoke & mirrors.
Here’s the thing about the Southern Wars.
You ended up knowing everyone who lives long enough. Jasper knows Matteo, Carmela, and Rodrigo far better than he’d like to know people he tried to kill for half a century. He knows Lyric from Baja is a chameleon who wefts and weaves herself into whatever army holds the strongest territory; he knows Tomas as someone who really needs to be put down for good but he’s just so likeable everyone ignores his less appealing ‘hobbies’. And Katya who has fought for seventy years yet never actually killed anyone (Matteo is a soft-touch when it comes to Katya, that’s an open secret.)
At any one time, he knows someone who can kill, kidnap, rob, acquire, destroy, or duplicate anything in the known world. He tries to keep most of that close to the vest, preferring for the Cullens not to know that if shit comes to shove, he can have Bella abducted and in a safe house in less than 12 hours without a single trace, let alone anyone linking it to the Cullens.
Hell, if Carlisle ever wanted a Pope’s skull to adorn his study, he knows a guy. It would cost a pretty penny and probably take the best part of a month, but he could make it happen. The same way he’s gotten more than just Cullen paperwork from Jenks; or that at least sixty percent of the cash he’s allocated annually goes towards helping those same old ‘friends’.
It should also be noted that ‘friends’ is used ironically - other than Peter or Charlotte, any one of those people would kill him without a second thought if he was no longer useful. He feels the same about them. At a certain point, all the shit they went through and survived created some strange kind of respect and understanding. Veterans on opposing sides of a war.
(It also needs to be noted that for all of the shit that has rained down on the family since Bella Swan tripped and stumbled into their lives, that he probably could have called in a favour for an extra set of hands. But Peter and Charlotte were unavailable, and calling in that kind of favour set a precedent he hadn’t wanted to deal with at the time, so he’d kept quiet and gotten the job done himself.)
Which is just a fancy way to say that when Irina bursts in and admits she told the fuckin’ Volturi about Renesmee, the Immortal Child, he’s already flipping through his mental Rolodex of assets to get them out of this mess. It’s a more practical option than, say, snapping Irina into bite-sized pieces to give her time to think about her actions.
This is a problem. A big one. The more he thinks about it, the worse it gets.
It’s the first public trial that the Volturi has held since the Wars (he was only a few years out of being a newborn, and he barely remembers in it through the haze of bloodlust and irritation, trying to keep the freshest newborns contained and civil as the Kings ruled Helena a dangerous criminal and scorched the entire coven from existence. He remembers Maria being quiet for a few days afterwards, but the specifics of the entire event were lost to him.)
And that trial was only Caius, Aro, Dimitri, and the Twins. The Cullens’ charges (exposing themselves with the van incident, telling Bella, Edward’s attempt at exposing himself in Volterra, the whole Victoria debacle, waiting more than a year to change Bella, Charlie Swan, and now a hybrid child) were… difficult to challenge.
The entire court was coming.
(Sometimes he wonders if his role in this family has become that of the fixer. The one that is constantly bailing out the sinking ship, patching holes, and making sure all arms and legs are inside the proverbial vehicle - St Cloud, Dell Rapids, Senoia… Thirty years of that and, well, he’s getting tired.)
He gets up and disappears when Irina arrives, make-up smeared and emotions pinging off the walls like super balls, even though he knows what’s coming. He can practically sense it now.
(The thing about the Southern Wars is that, even after you turn your back on it, you never seem to stop fighting some kind of battle.)
//
It’s less than six hours before everyone has to be informed of Irina’s faux pas, and it goes about as well as Jasper expected.
He sits on the stairs as Edward and Rose and Carlisle argue, Jacob making unhelpful comments as he eats some vile human snack, and Irina looks vaguely ill and he wonders what the fuck Irina was thinking. If she wanted answers, justice, she should have come straight to the Cullens. This wasn’t so much as overkill, as nuking the planet from space after an oil spill.
(He also wants to know how exactly she left Volterra to warn them. Did Aro dismiss her? Send her? Did she just slip out and hope no one noticed?)
The rot is truly set in with the Volturi; he’s heard Maria’s rants about them, about how power curdles and corrupts. How it becomes less about protection and more about control. And when you have vaults and vaults of money and jewels and artwork and books, you look for something much, much rarer and unique to collect. Something that cannot be bought or stolen. They are no one’s benevolent overlords, no loving fathers of their people - they are a bullet fired wildly into a crowd, striking down the slow, the ignorant, and the vulnerable.
Very, very rarely do the actually guilty fall. That’s why this is such a bitter pill to swallow, such a disaster - Aro is coming for a trial, with the biggest audience he can find, to cull the Cullens and pick over the carcass. Justice and honesty and truth have no place here.
(Helena was no criminal. Just trying to salvage a terrible situation her very best. Whomever fed her to the wolves was more of a criminal than Helena ever came close to being. She was nobody’s enemy.)
This is bad, very bad.
Emmett comes over to him, his normally jovial expression replaced with something that was both tired and solemn.
“This is a mess,” Emmett says, and that’s his brother. Always the diplomat.
This isn’t a mess. He can clean up messes.
He offers a nod, and they both look over as Rosalie sends something flying - an ugly ceramic egg the size of a soccer ball that is nobody’s favourite, so the only one who flinches is Jacob.
“We don’t have many options,” he finally says, and he feels the flutter of Emmett’s hope and relief against him; this is what his brother wants. Jasper’s bailed them out of the last… three of Edward’s debacles, of course the family veteran has an escape hatch already planned and built, a way that they get to keep their heads.
(He wants to warn Emmett, the eternal optimist that he’s really only flipping names over in his head, working out who will give them the best advantage. Who owes him and who he already owes and who is nearby and who he can get in touch with the fastest. Do they need witnesses or an army or some combination of both? There are a million balls in the air, even though the answer is right there because he wants to double check and make sure that he hasn’t missed anything - a better choice.)
He heaves a breath and he doesn’t want to do this.
Of all the old friends he could call on, she’s the name that is right below Maria’s on the list of people he doesn’t want to owe a favour to. Calling her or Maria in right now is the equivalent of hitting the big red self-destruct button.
But he continues to roll that choice around in his mind and it’s the right choice. She’s the right choice.
And even if he thinks that a couple of decades in the catacombs of Volterra would teach Edward and Bella to be a hell of a lot less selfish and self-absorbed (and let the kid be raised by someone with a little more life experience, like Rose or Esme), the rest of the family doesn’t deserve to go down with them. Stupidity isn’t a crime. Carlisle’s love for his son isn’t a crime.
“Let me make a call.”
—
Peter is glad to hear from him right up until Jasper explains why he’s calling - Edward, the child, Irina, the Volturi.
“Is now a good time to mention that Yuri’s set-up camp permanently?” Peter asks, the strain in his voice obvious.
No. No it’s absolutely not, but it puts more pieces into place, that maybe the Volturi are looking for more than to simply put the Cullens into their place. Yuri’s little clan of followers that ebbs and flows have transitioned from Hong Kong to Tokyo to Osaka. One of the great smugglers, he’d done deals with Maria for centuries and the fact that Yuri has left his home for America implies many, many things about the Volturi’s reach.
He wonders if Li Jie is even still in China. If Li Jie has fallen, that would explain a lot.
(Politics is a dirty word in their world. Carlisle refuses to engage in it, and he understands - sort of. For all their
“He run into any kind of trouble?” He finally asks.
“Not that he mentioned. Just said something about American hospitality. Just a heads up - he might need papers or shit. Where do you need me?”
That was Peter - and Charlotte - in a nutshell. There was nothing they wouldn’t drop to help, to swoop in with an extra set of hands.
“I need you to track someone down for me,” he says, leaning against the wall. “We’ll need you at the trial, but there’s someone who I need to make sure this…” Doesn’t turn into an irreversible shit-show. Remember when Carmela tried to take Baja, Peter? That’s small potatoes compared to what the Cullens have brought down around our ears. We need a hail-Mary, miracle kind of help.
He explains what he needs carefully; what direction he thinks might work the best. He’s going to need to blackmail and bribe Tomas to make an appearance because if it comes to a fight, Tomas will go down with teeth and nails still slashing and take a very pretty pound of flesh with him.
Peter is silent on the other end of the phone. “Major, you’re asking for a miracle,” he says finally. “No one has heard from her since she fucked off. If she’s still alive, she can’t possibly be in the US anymore. And I can tell you that she’s been written off as dead for decades by almost everyone.”
“I don’t believe that.” He can’t. Both Plan A and Plan B involve her presence, no one ever wielded an army like she did. He needs her insight, he needs her skill, and he needs her reputation. “And neither do you.”
Silence and the sound of someone fumbling at the phone.
“Jasper.” Charlotte’s on the phone now. “Peter’s being dramatic, we can look but we’re going to need…”
“I’ll transfer the cash straight away. We need the fastest possible turn around, Char. We don’t have enough time.”
Charlotte sighs. “We’ll do our best, Major.”
—
It’s two days later when some semblance of… well, not a plan, but a direction is coming together. Tracking down the right people was half the battle, but he was nearly certain that he’d get confirmation today.
The rest of the family knew he was working on something, some way to get them out of this mess that wouldn’t humiliate Aro, or call into question the validity of the laws as a whole. Carlisle was very clear that they didn’t want some kind of political uprising or rebellion. Just enough time to explain Bella’s pregnancy, confirm that it was entirely unplanned and not some kind of master plan, and part as friends.
Jasper wasn’t holding out much hope for that last part.
Gathered around the dining room table - the family’s war room, when such a thing was needed. Jacob was somehow still eating, and Irina had remained in Forks - she had clearly decided that Carlisle’s brand of ‘I’m not mad, just Disappointed’ was preferential to going back to Alaska, where Tanya and Eleazar would be waiting to rip her a new asshole - proverbially - for going anywhere near Italy. Let alone without even talking to the Cullens before she started throwing around wild accusations.
It had been a long week that was only going to get longer - which he could see in the tension of the rest of the family.
“The first thing you need to accept is that this isn’t a trial.” His voice is flat and unfriendly. The child is cradled awkwardly in Edward’s arms, holding onto some mercifully silent toy, fixated on it. He absently wonders if drowning it in the bathtub would be a suitable penance to stop Aro in his tracks.
But the look in Edward’s eyes at that stray thought is enough. And then Jasper wonders, idly, if this devotion and attachment to the child will last; after all, vampires don’t have offspring. They have no instinct for a dependent child - the connection between a vampire and their creator was nothing like that of parent and child (especially an infant), nor was the connection between coven members. There was every chance that any maternal connection to Renesmee that Bella had would fade after her newborn year, and decay the further she left her humanity behind.
If they survive this, it’ll be an interesting case study, if nothing else.
“There is every reason to assume that this ‘visit’ is intended to be an execution,” Jasper continues, and Esme flinches. “I can’t predict whether Aro will opt to sentence some of us, or all of us, or what his plan is. But the plan is for someone to die for this. To put us in our place. That is why he’s bringing an audience - to bear witness to our crimes. And before you say it Rose, we’re guilty by association - the fact we didn’t eliminate Bella after the van accident is a crime in Aro’s view.”
Rosalie frowned, and he could taste her worry on the air.
“Our best course of action is to gather our own witnesses so that the trial is fair,” he continued. “That the baby is not an Immortal Child, but someone who grows and evolves, and therefore can change and learn. And to remind all three of the Kings that Aro was aware of the van accident, Bella’s knowledge of us, and the incident with James when she was in Volterra. We were given permission to continue as we were to minimise notice from the community. We weren’t charged with any crimes then, and it would look… unseemly to retroactively charge us now.”
“So what do we do?” Jacob asks. Irina looks strained, her hands teasing at a piece of ribbon.
“I have a contact that I will be reaching out to,” he said grimly. “She’ll be an asset if she’s willing to help us and if I can find her - she’ll have contacts to other potential witnesses, insight into this visit from the Volturi, and stand as a completely neutral witness.”
“And a Southern Warlord,” Edward sounds aghast, and Bella scoops up the child, her hand smoothing down the red curls. “You’re bringing one of them here?”
“You aren’t considering bringing Maria to Forks?” Carlisle asked uneasily.
“That would be…” Rosalie began, already getting agitated.
“A slaughter,” Edward finished, and Jasper resisted the urge to roll his eyes at them. As if Maria didn’t have the control to move about the human world; generally, Maria only pulled a ‘Calgary’ when she was trying to make a point.
“It’s not Maria,” he said through clenched teeth. “I have some old contacts from the South who can assist us. I’ll need to be in Louisiana by Saturday morning to try and convince her.”
Carlisle still looked uneasy but Rosalie had backed off. Edward was still scowling.
“If you prefer, I can just drown it and hope that buys us some grace?” Jasper said, his tone prickly, and both Bella and Jacob let out sounds of horror - Bella thrusting the baby at Esme to try and approach Jasper with violence in her eyes, but Edward grabbed her before she could get any closer.
“That was unnecessary,” Esme said disapprovingly, her hand cupping the back of the child’s head.
“And dramatic,” Edward is gritting his teeth and resisting the urge to punch Jasper himself.
“I am trying to protect us,” Jasper replied shortly. “I am trying to get us out of this with minimal loss of life. Frankly, I don’t have much hope for Irina or Edward or Bella or … Renesmee, but if there is the slimmest possible chance that I can keep the rest of you alive and free, I will take it.”
Silence.
“I can get you a flight to New Orleans Friday night,” Rosalie said, and that thread of fear was back.
“Make it two,” Edward said, releasing Bella. “I’ll come with you."
“No.” Jasper said.
“Jasper, it might be wiser to go in pairs,” Carlisle said. “In these circumstances, I don’t think setting off alone is ideal.”
“No. It’s a bad idea.”
“Yes. You said it yourself - we have to convince her. If I know what she’s thinking, we can use it. And I want to meet our ‘saviour’,” Edward said, sarcasm and irritation pouring off him.
“She’s not known for playing nice with others, Edward,” Jasper felt tired, as if his brother was being as difficult as he knew how to be on purpose. “And she can sniff out an agenda before you’ve even opened your mouth. If you want someone to accompany me, Emmett’s the best choice.” Emmett wore his emotions on his sleeve, and the most complex agenda his brother had ever had was to replace Rosalie’s ruined Louboutins before she noticed they’d been destroyed.
Hell, he’d probably befriend her, and that could only help their cause.
“Edward is the best choice,” Carlisle said reluctantly. “He can give us insight, even if she refuses to help.”
Carlisle’s not wrong and Jasper hates it. She’s going to need delicate handling, and Edward rarely takes advice from anyone who isn’t Carlisle. The absolutely last thing they need is for Edward to make demands or threats and piss her off. Then they’ll be dealing with an angry veteran and the Volturi.
“Fine.” His tone is enough to let everyone at the table that he is not happy. “But I need to take the lead. Pissing her off with just make more trouble for us. And if we fuck this up, Maria is our next option. And you know Maria will want her pound of flesh if it works out in our favour.”
That is a proper threat, a tangible one that the entire family sans Bella feels the weight of; Irina looks wary and Jacob looks confused.
“We will follow your lead, Jasper,” Carlisle says finally, with resignation. “Edward will go with you.”
“The rest of you should reach out to any friends we have. Anyone who will witness the trial. No one is obliged to fight on our behalf or even stay - but they can meet Renesmee and see that she isn’t an Immortal Child. That we did not break the laws.”
He looks at them. “This isn’t so much about Renesmee or Edward and Bella. This is about the Volturi exerting their power. There is no justice in the Volturi, not anymore.”
#jasper hale#jalice#twilight fic#my fic: smoke and mirrors#jasper always has a back up plan#but he's so tired#and now he has to deal with someone who might not be found#and who probably hates him
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Megop Week 2023
June 17th, Day 7
Mercy/Freedom
Optimus decided to reveal a major secret of G.H.O.S.T to Megatron. What will become of them after the revelation?
Thank yall so much for reading my entries for MEGOP week 2023. Im so happy to have written for every day (despite the time). Not only do I love Megop, but this is the most consistent I've been with writing for years
Thank you to everyone who read, liked, commented, and reblogged my work, hope to get more out soon!
“Another successful mission was it not?” Optimus beamed, slinging a large arm over Megatron. Megatron let out a gruff chuckle, “Sure sure, if you call me having to cut you out of a cement block successful.” Optimus laughed at that, but soon Megatron’s attention was drawn elsewhere.
He looked around for any sign of Thundercracker, their latest capture. He was more than surprised to see no sign of him, despite seeing him carted off in a G.H.O.S.T van to their same location. “Where do you suppose they take them after we’re done fighting them?”
Thank Primus he missed Optimus’ nervous gulp as he spoke. “Im afraid G.H.O.S.T doesn't quite trust us enough to indulge that information.” doesn't quite trust you more like it. Megatron only glared at the shut doors, a small window giving way to Thundercracker’s scared face.
“Is that right?”
Already he was turning down the way to his training room. Not the wisest decision after being knocked around during a mission, but Optimus knew well enough what that meant. He sighed, walking the way with Megatron. “Look, Megatron–”
“Look Megatron,” the ex-Decepticon repeated, “You shouldn't be too quick to judge them. G.H.O.S.T has already provided us so much, surely we can trust that the Decepticons are being kept in well condition.” He turned with a cross of his arms. “Is that along the lines of what you were going to say?”
Optimus couldn't help but shrug a bit in acknowledgment. “Perhaps in a less sarcastic tone but . . yes, yes that is what I was going to say.” Goodness, he must've given a lot of speeches like that for Megatron to steal the words right out of his mouth. He sighed, “But I would mean it the same.”
Megatron protested, “And if that were the case, then what’s the harm in saying anything to us? We help capture them, we’re owed at least what happens to them.” His eyes burned with a determination that Optimus was a bit worried about. He couldn't help but let the truth slip out, “Unless . . .”
“Unless?” Megatron tilted his helm. Sure enough, that simple word made a very apparent point as it crossed Megatron’s face. “Unless they don’t trust me. Is that what you’re saying? Afraid an ex-Decepticon would take pity and free his former followers?” Optimus fired back, “Well, Im not the one who said that. That was all you.”
Megatron shot him a look, quickly making Optimus’ finials fall back. “A-Apologies, dear.” Optimus stood more straight, approaching the situation with a bit more concern for his lover. “Megatron, I trust you, you know that. And I understand you want better for the cons but . . .” he sighed heavily. “Every one of them we’ve encountered again has gone out of their way to try and kill you. Maim you even. We let go of Frenzy and the other cassette bots only for them to still reappear fighting us.” He recounted and placed a hand on Megatron’s shoulder. “You still care so much, and I truly admire that but why to the extent?”
Megatron’s own gaze softened as he spoke. “I owe it to them Optimus. I got them into this mess, left, and naturally, they’d be more driven by my betrayal than a chance to reform.” Optimus couldn't help but pierce his lips. It hurt seeing how to spark Megatron was taking this. He frowned for a moment, as Megatron continued.
“Now I can’t even ensure their safety. They deserve mercy, Optimus . . . and I feel like a fool not being able to guarantee that.” He sighed heavily.
Optimus couldn't help his own guilt, and spoke, assuredly. “Megatron, I . . . I believe there is something I need to show you.”
—
Optimus was lucky the lift continued to work after hours, quiet as he guided Megatron inside. The floors ended after a certain number, but a few clicks of different combinations sent them deeper down. Megatron felt a turning in his intake as they descended. “Prime?” He was a bit more worried just seeing the stone-cold look on Optimus’ face. It was so unlike him, and it only made their circumstances a bit worse.
“Prime what are you–” he gasped, as the lift jerked, hitting the bottom and opening slowly into darkened corridors, a cold stale presence in the air. Megatron looked ahead, optics widening in something akin to sheer terror. There ahead on each side lay rows and rows of field cells, all growing alive at the sight of the two.
Decepticons banging on their cell walls, shouting all sorts of curses at the Autobots as they walked. “They were . . . down here? . . . All this time?” The words came out slowly as he moved, gazing at every one of their faces.
“TRAITOR!” Soundwave yellde, smashing his shoulder into the wall.
“WAIT TILL I GET MY SERVOS ON YOU LACKY!” Novastorm yelled.
A roar from Skull Cruncher's cell alerted Megatron to stop.
He blinked for a moment, coming to a crushing retaliation. “They were down here . . . and you knew.” it came out, barely above a whisper.
Optimus spoke with the utmost despair. “I’ve . . . I’ve known.” he followed Megatron as he continued walking with him, right infront of Thundercracker’s cell, brand new. “And Im so sorry I didn't say anything. G.H.O.S.T assured me this was the best we could do, for now.” He tried to get just a bit closer to Megatron’s form. “I hate it, just as much as you do, I’ve been trying to find a better way to hold them, redeem them even.” He tried grabbing for his servo. “I just . . . I didn't want to hurt you.”
Megatron pulled away snapping, “And you think hiding my one concern was the way to do it?!” He glared, teeth bared in a grimace. “Captured? Rendered in prisons with barely any space under G.H.O.S.T.S footsteps?! In what universe did you think hiding this from me was a good decision?!” He yelled, alerting attention from the nearby cells.
“Megatron please, I–”
In the next moment, Megatron thrusted his arm cannon forward, charged up in Optimus’ face aimed to shoot. The captured cons all cheered for the sudden switch in the room.
“SLAG HIM!”
“TEAR EACH OTHER APART!”
Optimus stepped away, little by little while Megatron lurked towards him. “Megatron, please.” He reasoned, “I swear it when I say I didn't want this.”
“And you did nothing!” He yelled, the faintest trace of glossy tears filling his optics. “You stood by, let G.H.O.S.T take the reigns over my burden and imprisoned them!” He stopped once Optimus was backed against the wall of the prison.
Optimus stared first at the heartbroken face of his love, and then down at the floor in dismay. “You’re . . . you are right, Megatron.”
“Damn right, I am.” Megatron hissed out.
Optimus moved his servo up against the wall, resting on a large switch. Megatron’s glare weakened slightly. “They deserve mercy.” Optimus flipped it, humming around the floor dying as the cell walls went down freeing the captured Decepticons.
For a lack of better words, Megatron was stunned, lowering his still-charged arm cannon. “What–” he yelled out, once Optimus grabbed his arm, aiming it up again at the opposite wall and blasting a hole open through it. The air around them rumbled with warm charged electricity.
Soon enough, Megatron was being pulled by his arm back into the lift, Optimus working fast to shut the doors before any escaping Decepticon decided to enact revenge right then and there.
Once they were alone, raising back up, he let out a heavy breath. “I . . . I mean it when I said I’m sorry, Megatron. Letting them go, perhaps wasn't the best decision, but I . . . I thought–I wanted.” He was interrupted by Megatron grabbing his face plating, and pulling him into a deep kiss.
Optimus’ optics widened, about to wrap his arms around the ex-Decepticon, before Megatron pushed him away, with a harsh punch to the shoulder. “That is for still lying to me.” He hissed out coldly.
Optimus rubbed his shoulder, “I deserved that.” But he could catch the slight smile on Megatron’s face plates before it faded again with resolve. “G.H.O.S.T will likely start an investigation . . . send us out to capture them all over again.”
Optimus’ finials drooped, speaking out loud, “Yes I truly . . . truly didn't think this through. What do you suggest we do, when it comes to your burden?” He moved a servo a bit closer since he hadn't the opportunity down in the cells.
Megatron hummed, reaching to hold the Autobots servo. “Ask me in the morning. Before the other shoe drops.” He spoke, staring down at the ground.
Optimus gave a sad smile, squeezing his servo. There wasn't much to say, the two of them seemingly standing at a dead end.
At least, despite the closest of calls they were together.
They were together.
Still.
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All Too Well (Steddie Version)
part 2! part 1
or read it on ao3!
Steve felt perfectly sick. If it was any later, he would get out of bed and start getting ready for work, but it was still the middle of the night, only about two a.m., so to do anything but lay there was pointless.
He rolled on his side, hoping to kill the feeling in his stomach, to relax enough to sleep. He knew he wouldn’t, but it felt like he should try.
Everything remotely good that had happened that year was long gone. He could still picture it after all these days, but the magic of it was missing and now it just made him ill.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m taking you home.”
“This is not the way to my house.” Steve looked out the window at the little town street he knew as well as his hands.
“Didn’t say your house, now did I?” Eddie grinned at him.
Steve smirked back, tearing his sight away to push his hair out of his face. The AC had broken in the van, so all the windows were down, and the wind was forcing his hair away from where he liked it.
“Stop looking at me!” He rolled his eyes. “I can feel your eyes burning into me, Munson.”
“Can’t help it. You’re pretty, you know that?”
Steve opened his mouth to argue, blush creeping up to his ears, but couldn’t find any words to defend himself. Eddie had called him pretty so many times before; why did he still lose all higher cognitive function when he said it? He could hardly breathe...
He couldn’t meet Eddie’s gaze, even though he could still feel it against the side of his head, deciding instead to look straight ahead.
“What, are you shy, sweetheart?” Eddie brushed a stray piece of Steve’s hair from his face, laughing softly to himself. “Guess you haven’t heard it enough. You are pretty. Prettiest boy I know.”
“Stop it.” Steve swatted him off, still not meeting his eye so as not to encourage him, but that didn’t stop the soft smile taking control of his face. “Stop it, pay attention. You’re driving. Stop it! Look, that’s a red light!”
Eddie glanced at it, bursting into a grin as the light immediately went green and he coasted through it.
“See? Even traffic thinks you’re pretty. Wants me to look at you.”
It was raining. Steve could hear it pounding against the windows. Against the roof.
He rolled over to look outside. He’d been sleeping with the blinds open for weeks. He hadn’t really slept for a long time, and it was easier to see if the sun was up so he could stop lying there miserably.
It had to have been raining for a long time, because everything he could see was thoroughly soaked, but the sound had just managed to reach him. Maybe he’d fallen asleep for just a second there, and if he focused hard on the sound of the downpour against the glass, he could do it again.
Worth a shot. It’s not like he had any other plans.
“Hey!” Eddie ran from the other side of the trailer. “Absolutely not! Wayne, put it away. I swear to God...!”
Steve took the leather photo album from where Wayne held it out to him. “What have you got in here, Munson?”
“No. No, give it to me, Steve.”
Eddie tried to take the book from him, but Steve just lifted it above his head and laughed, swatting him away as he jumped to grab it.
“Give it to me!”
“Let him look, kid.” Wayne leaned back against the sink, almost smiling.
“Steve!”
“Oh, did I just find a way to embarrass the Eddie Munson?” Steve chuckled, leaning over the peninsula and opening the photo album so he could better look at it.
Eddie groaned, letting his head fall into his hands. “Jesus Christ...”
Steve brushed his fingertips over the faded Polaroids and the tiny body of young Eddie. He was skinny and pale, even more so than he was now. He had his head buzzed and a broad, innocent smile that was long gone from his lips. Now, his smile was usually cynical and sardonic, and if he really meant it, it was nothing more than a soft shadow of the one in the pictures.
The pictures were mostly birthday parties, parks, pools. His childhood mirrored Steve’s, but they were on opposite sides. Eddie’s birthday parties were Wayne, his mom, and a homemade cake, candles lit with a cigarette lighter. Steve’s birthday parties were his entire elementary school class, a massive raspberry filled sheet cake with his name on it in bright blue icing, and sparklers in the yard. Same feeling, different world.
“That’s from his first tee-ball game.” Wayne murmured as Steve turned to the page. He eyed Eddie to see if he’d snap, then continued when he didn’t. “He ran over to me and his mom screaming ‘I got a home run!’”
“Oh God.” Eddie buried his face in his hands again, turning bright red. “Please. Stop. I’m begging. Steve, have you no empathy?”
“You’re cute.” Steve mumbled. “You look so happy.”
“Ughhh! You’re awful!”
“Oh hush, kid.” Wayne tousled his hair, pushing past him to get another beer.
It was a few hours later, after Steve had fully exploited finding one of his pressure points, that Eddie even dared mention it.
“You’re gonna have to show me your kid pictures now. You do know that, right? It’s only fair after you tortured me.”
Steve lifted his head from where he was lying next to him on the floor, stuck in a sort of sleepy haze from the lateness of the hour. “You don’t want to see mine.”
“No, no, I do.”
Steve shook his head softly. “No, uh, they aren’t... happy. Not like yours. I’m pretty miserable in ‘em... I was miserable for a long time...”
Eddie didn’t answer.
Steve thought maybe he’d upset him. It was always hard to tell what he was thinking, especially for Steve, who already had a hard time reading people. He needed him to say something, anything.
Eddie reached for him, fingertips brushing over his wrist. He forced open the fist Steve had subconsciously made and laced their fingers together.
“What were you like?” He mumbled. “When you were little?”
“You wouldn’t have liked me.”
“Mm, probably not.”
They both laughed softly, shoulders shuddering against each other.
“I was a dorky little kid with a bowl cut and glasses,” Steve murmured. He figured he owed him that much, at least.
“A bowl cut? You telling me Little Byers has a chance of becoming The Hair?”
“Only when I was little. By the time I was, like, eight, it was more like this. Byers is beyond saving.”
Eddie chuckled, rubbing his thumb over Steve’s.
“I had a twin-sized bed with monster truck sheets, and I played basketball, soccer, and football, and I was so mean.” Steve sighed. “I didn’t realize for a long time what a jerk I am.”
“You’re not a jerk now.” Eddie corrected softly. “You were- don't get me wrong- but not anymore. Now you’re just a weirdo.”
“Oh, wow, thanks.” He rolled his eyes, smirking.
“No, that’s a good thing! I’m a weirdo, too, right? I like to think I’m not so bad.”
“You’re not so bad at all, Eds.” He gently squeezed his hand. It was nice to have it there; the feeling was more secure than Steve had felt in a long time.
Why had Steve even bothered to tell him about his past? To tell him anything? He knew the reason, but he didn’t like how impossibly stupid he felt when he thought about it.
He told him about his past, expecting him to be there in his future.
The irony of it. Steve thought of that night a lot.
Here they were, both of them, in the future, just not near each other’s at all. It was so surreal to have a broken promise like that.
Robin wouldn’t even talk about him. As if she thought Steve couldn’t bear to even hear his name. Which wasn’t true, of course.
He thought about him constantly.
He couldn’t decide though: Would he rather hear about him being okay, having a life and being fine? Moving on, even though Steve felt like he had died? Or was it better to suffer and drown in the memories? Hope Eddie was doing the same thing on the other side of town?
Maybe it was a good thing Robin didn’t talk about him.
“Hey! Catch!” Steve threw the keys to the Beemer at Eddie.
Eddie shrieked, flinching as the keys hit him in the arm and fell to the ground. “What the hell?!”
“You should drive. You know where we’re going, and I don’t.”
Eddie raised his eyebrows. “You’re gonna let me drive your baby?”
“I trust you.”
“Bad choice, Harrington.” He grinned, plucking the keychain up and sliding into the driver’s seat.
Robin and Nancy piled into the backseat with Steve on the passenger side.
“I’ve never been to a protest,” Nancy said. She only had half a face of makeup, and currently, Robin was holding a mirror so she could perfect her eyeliner.
“Oh, they’re so much fun! Eds, remember what happened last summer with the cops?”
“I remember.” He chuckled, looking back at her through the rearview mirror. “That was awesome.”
Steve turned, half facing Eddie, half facing the girls. “Remind me what exactly it is we’re protesting.”
“The patriarchy, probably,” Robin said, spitting out the word like it tasted bad and rolling her eyes.
“What’s wrong with the patriarchy? I’m not arguing; I really don’t know.”
Nancy pursed her lips, smoothing rose-colored blush along her cheeks. “Oh, fuck the patriarchy.”
The others were caught off guard by the comment; Nancy wasn’t one to curse. She was really serious.
Eddie laughed in surprise, and agreed, “Fuck the patriarchy!”
“Fuck the patriarchy!” Robin fell back against the seat, kicking excitedly. “Fuck the fucking patriarchy!”
“Ahhahaha!” Eddie tapped ecstatically on the top of the steering wheel. “Fuck the patriarchy.”
Steve grinned. He couldn’t fight it. It had been too long since they had done something normal. Since they’d been so excited about something other than staying alive.
Eddie looked absolutely radiant, tangled curls tied back with the black bandana he usually kept in his back pocket, palms loose against the wheel of the Beemer- Steve’s Beemer-with the afternoon sun blazing over him.
Steve felt something stirring, deep inside of him, like he’d never felt before. A kind of hot longing in the very darkest depths of his stomach. A dissatisfaction that couldn’t be satiated with stolen glances and sleepy exchanges, and he still couldn’t seem to draw his eyes away.
God, Eddie was beautiful.
“What do you say, Stevie?” Eddie asked, startling him out of his trance, and just like that, the feeling was completely gone.
“Fuck the patriarchy.” Steve mumbled, suddenly remembering where he was, so over-takingly weak with admiration.
The feeling had come back, later that night. Eddie had realized he’d forgotten to tell his Uncle where he was going. “Just want to him to know I’m not skipping town.”
“Do you do that a lot?” Steve had jabbed, elbowing him playfully.
“If it weren’t for Hopper, I’d be wanted for murder in the state of Indiana, and most people still think I should be. So yeah, I’m always skipping town.”
He was currently leaned back, shoulders against the wall of the phone booth, hips thrust forward in a position that couldn’t possibly be comfortable.
Steve stood just across the little diner, waiting with Robin while Nancy ordered, and there it was again. The simple inability to tear his sight away, the feeling drawing, dragging him towards Eddie like any more distance between them might tear Steve’s heart straight out of his body.
“You know,” Robin murmured, following his sight. “I was thinking on the drive down...”
He could hear her voice, but it sounded distant and full of static. Like she wasn’t there with him, rather, she was over the radio in a different town. “Hmm?” He forced out, because he knew she was talking, but he just couldn’t seem to understand any of it.
“He’s gonna say it’s...” She trailed off.
Steve didn’t ask her what she thought, because he knew that too. The thought was horrifying and awful, and to think of the word she meant was almost enough to kill the ecstasy he was feeling.
He’s gonna say it’s love.
He never called it what it was.
That was on Steve, and he would have to take the blame for it. Maybe if he hadn’t been so... afraid, it would’ve lasted longer. Maybe he could’ve fixed things if he had just said it.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be in love with Eddie, that was never the problem. He was just so scared that love was too strong a word, and Steve would fall too fast. It would be Nancy and senior year all over again.
The guilt was awful. To think maybe he could’ve done something to change this... He could usually forget about it long enough to forget why he needed to.
“There you are.”
Eddie sat in the dark of the Harrington kitchen, knees pulled awkwardly to his chest and wedged under the lip of the table, despite the uncomfortable length of his lanky legs, white mug clasped in his hands. “Uh, yeah... I, uh, made some tea, I hope that’s okay.”
Steve smiled softly at the sight of him, wrapped in one of Steve’s blankets in Steve’s kitchen drinking Steve’s tea. “Yeah, you can have whatever you want. Don’t tell Henderson that, though. One time he drank an entire gallon of milk while he was over.”
Eddie laughed once, but it fell flat, forced out. He took a sip of his drink to hide his face.
Steve lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper and leaned against the counter, all traces of humor gone. “Do you hurt? You need some Advil?”
Eddie glanced down at his stomach- scratches and tears slowly healing into thick, white scars- with a disinterest as if he’d forgotten they were there. “No, I’m alright.”
“Another nightmare?”
The silence was answer enough.
“I told you to wake me up,” Steve murmured, crossing to stand over him and smooth some of his frizzy curls down. “That’s why you’re here.”
“I thought I did.” He leaned into his hand against his forehead. “That’s why you came down, isn’t it?”
“No, actually. I woke up because I’m starving and then you weren’t there. Do you... wanna talk about it? The nightmare, I mean.”
“Not particularly, no.”
“That’s fine. I’m happy to listen if you change your mind.” He crossed back across the kitchen to open the fridge. “You want a snack? We’ve got string cheese, apples, Cheetos... popcorn, Eggos...”
“...Steve?”
He turned around, abandoning the idea of food, because Eddie sounded so desperate and unlike himself, it scared him. “Yeah? What can I get you?”
Eddie swallowed to keep his voice from breaking, but it did anyway. “Will... Will you just hold me?”
Steve nodded intently. He left the fridge open, forgetting its existence entirely, and strode quickly to meet him halfway, pulling him against himself as tightly as he could.
Eddie roped his arms around his neck, blanket slipping from his shoulders, pulling himself in so he could rest his head on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve tightened his arms around his waist to close the space and rub lightly across the base of Eddie’s shoulder blades.
He didn’t cry, even though they both expected him to. The worst of it was wet, shuddery breaths against Steve’s collarbone and fingers locked in his hair like he’d fall apart if he didn’t hold on.
Steve’s hot exhale danced over his ear and across the back of his neck. “It’s okay…You’re gonna be okay…”
“Don’t let me go.” Eddie moaned miserably.
“I’m not gonna let you go. I won’t let go of you.”
The only way to describe the way they held onto each other was desperately. They clung to each other in the dark, like it was the only way they could possibly be safe from everything.
“I’m not gonna let you go.”
Steve’s hands slipped under the hem of Eddie’s shirt, wanting, needing to be closer, and his fingertips brushed softly over where the scars lanced across his stomach and dipped down onto his hips below his waistband. Even though he was gentle, there were still places that would make Eddie suck in a sharp breath if Steve touched them.
Eddie had stopped letting him look at them, the scabs and the scars, a month or so after Steve had stopped cleaning and bandaging them twice a week. He suspected Eddie hated them. Hated the way they were permanently there marring his skin. But Steve was relieved, running his hands over the smooth, uneven skin, to know they had healed okay. They weren’t nearly as bad as he’d imagined they would be.
The fridge started to whine, lamenting the fact that it had been neglected with its contents exposed, but the sound blurred into the background noise of the house. All Steve could hear was Eddie’s breathing, ragged and stressed, like he couldn’t come to grips with everything. He probably couldn’t; it had taken Steve years, and he still got upset over things that seemed stupid- needles, blindfolds, too-loud clocks...
Eddie’s fingers relaxed slowly, releasing the tight grip in Steve’s hair so he could draw his arms back into himself and pull away. “I’m sorry. Sorry. That was weird. Sorry.”
Steve loosened his hands from around his waist but didn’t let go, rubbing the hem of his shirt between his fingers. “It... wasn’t.” The hesitation was in surprise; it didn’t feel strange at all to be so close to him, even though he’d never even held Nancy like this, and he had been in love with her.
“You don’t... have to be nice...” Eddie said, attempting to extract himself again, flushed and embarrassed. “I should probably go. Like, home. My uncle’s probably worried.”
“I said I wasn’t going to let you go.”
Steve wasn’t sure where that had come from, even as it left his own mouth, because he was acutely aware of everywhere his body was pressed against Eddie’s and he could barely breathe, but it seemed to work, because Eddie stopped pushing away from him and relaxed back into his hold.
“Are you okay?” He murmured, pulling his hand from under his shirt and tucking some of Eddie’s hair away.
Eddie sighed exhaustedly and muttered, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
“I mean right now. I know you will be. I’ll make sure of that. But are you okay right now, at this moment?”
He shrugged.
“Stay,” Steve whispered. “I know you want to run, but you said you wouldn’t do that anymore. Stay with me. Okay?”
“...Okay.” Eddie agreed softly.
“Okay.” He echoed, to make it seem final. He pushed the hair off Eddie’s forehead and kissed him lightly at the tense spot where his eyebrows met before he realized what he was doing. He pulled back quickly, eyes wide, yanking his hands awkwardly into his chest, folded into loose fists.
“That was weird. Sorry.”
Eddie grinned softly. “It wasn’t.”
Steve opened his mouth to say something, but there weren’t any words and before he could come up with anything, Eddie traced along his jaw and up across his cheek, pushing up on his toes to lean in.
He bit his bottom lip tentatively and stared at Steve with the doe eyes, waiting for something. Anything.
“Can I kiss you?”
The feeling was there, begging for them to be close, like their own personal gravity. Even though something tugged at Steve, that he shouldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t ignore the draw between them. Couldn’t fight the agony in being apart...
Steve tipped his head forward and filled the space.
The first kiss was slow and careful, reserved. Like both of them were waiting for the other to pull away and laugh it off. It didn’t happen though, and the break was gentle and natural.
Eddie chuckled softly, leaning back against the counter and pulling Steve with him, fingers interlocked against the back of his neck to bring him back towards him and cover his grin with his own.
Steve linked his thumbs under the elastic waistband of Eddie’s sweats. The feeling was burning him, electric under where Eddie’s lips moved against his, where his hands pinched the rough hair on the back of his neck.
Holy shit.
Was this what he had been missing out on for all these months? This taste and this feeling and Eddie. It was all Eddie.
When they finally separated, Steve leaned his forehead against Eddie’s, heavy breath dancing over his face.
“You okay?” Eddie mumbled, soft enough that it almost hid his concern, but not quite. Did he think Steve was gonna bolt? Where was he going to go, they were in his own damn kitchen.
“Wanted to do that for a long time.” Steve murmured, smiling lightly.
“You should’ve.” Eddie stole another short kiss. “Coward.”
There was a sort of euphoria between them that couldn’t quite be explained. It wasn’t a drug high sort of euphoria, or even a satiated kind. Maybe it was that they were here, together. At this moment. And somehow, in the expanse of all the time and people on Earth, they had found each other. And, if they were daring enough to say it, they loved each other.
For a long time, they held each other in the dark, laughing and kissing, swaying- almost dancing- around in the yellow light of the long-abandoned refrigerator.
@maya-custodios-dionach and @long-live-taylorswift
*if you wanna be added to the tag list message me! the whole thing is written and i’ll add a chapter every day*
#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#all too well taylor's version#all too well (10 minute version)#steddie fic#steddie angst#steddie au#steddie fluff#steddie fanfic#angst with a happy ending
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What are your non-negotiable Will,Mike or byler scenes for next season? Any you have a clear vision for?
oooo i have plenty of very clear byler visions for next season that are all very plausible and make sense narratively but thats not to say that im 100% confident they will happen.
i think non-negotiable is a pretty aggressive way to define this theory im about to talk about because i think it kinda implies that theres no other way it could possibly go down which just isnt true but i do think it would be a huge missed opportunity of they didnt do this. i think mike will be revealed as gay to the audience through a vecna trance and i think this may also be how el finds out because she was piggybacking in his mind and saw/heard everything.
i do think there is some good evidence to support that mike will be vecna’d. a big one is mike being the one to see max get a bloody nose. you would expect lucas to be the one to see this and worry about her. mike is a really random choice and there is always intention and meaning behind little things like this in film.
also bathing will in light and the idea that max has to go to the light to leave vecna’s mind. they light up will in the van scene but also the cabin scene which i think has a double meaning and foreshadows their conflict with vecna because this lighting is the EXACT kinda lighting we see in the creel house.
max also tells lucas that vecna targets people who have something “haunting” them. mike is such a perfect victim for this. we saw in s4 how much he is trying to be someone else and trying to burry the part of him that likes will and likes boys in general. every one of vecnas victims has had some kinda guilt that theyve been trying to hide. (which is why eddies line “its forced conformity thats whats killing the kids!!!!!” is fucking genius). mike has been doing that for YEARS. i think the only reason he wasnt a target in s4 was because he wasnt in hawkins.
now for el, i have less evidence to backup that mike will be outed to her but i do think its possible and i really really hope el is the first person to know mike is gay. i think it would help him so much to hear from someone who didnt grow up the way he did and wasnt ever taught to hate people like him.
i have always thought this shot meant that el was suspicious of mike and wills feelings, and it probably does mean that, but now that i think about it it could also foreshadow her piggybacking into mikes mind too and seeing will in his mind.
i think mike is overdue for a full on panic attack. we see will express his emotions pretty much every season but mike has been suppressing them so deeply for years. the last time we saw him totally break down was in s2 when he was yelling at hopper. since then, he’s been trying to be someone else, whether its consciously or not. he needs a scene like wills destroying the castle and el needs to be the one to comfort him.
i envision mike waking from his trance of being tortured by vecna with all his feelings for will and being gay and hes breathing heavy with tears down his face. hes frantically looking around the room and everybody there and then he sees el take off her blindfold and wipe the blood dripping from her nose and he realizes she was in his mind. i see them both looking at each other, el with sympathy and mike with total panic, and mike runs to a separate room and el follows.
then el would sit with mike on the floor and mike would apologize profusely and theyd have a long, sweet discussion. mike would come clean and just tell her everything. that hes gay, that he loves will, that he felt so bad not breaking up with her as soon as he figured out, then he said he loved her because he thought it was the only way to get her to live. and el would just listen and then admit that she doesnt think she ever really loved him romantically either and that she wants to just be friends. i want this scene to be SO SWEET AND SO EMOTIONAL AND I HOPE IT MAKES ME CRY!!!!!!!!!!!
anyways thats just part of how i envision queer mikes reveal to the audience and his first coming out experience.
#this isnt the mike character arc post i just have to post this first bc i want to link it in that post#also this has been in my drafts for weeks and i didnt reread it just now so hopefully it makes sense#byler#eden answers
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A Price to Pay For pt.4
Summary: The full assault on Shadow begins, Price successfully recovered Elvira. But as much as he would like to keep her at arms length, he can't hold back anymore...
TW: Mentions of violence, blood, explosions
They spent the rest of the day making the last few preparations for the battle ahead. It was still quite early, so they couldn't do anything up until nightfall, that was their best bet and best shot. Price then spent most of his time working about Elvira, would she even survive? What if Graves already killed her? What if this place was actually a trap? So many questions ran through his mind, but he needed Elvira. He needed her. He realised that a life without her meant nothing to him, and a life with Elvira is always something he wanted… He felt like an idiot, stupid for pushing her away like that. Never again would he do that.
Price's other teams saw how worried he was, they reassured him that everything would be okay. That they'd rescue Elvira safely, Price believed them but that wouldn't stop him from worrying.
"Is everyone ready?" Price stood by the Vans looking at the team. "We should leave now and camp at the outskirts till nightfall."
"Lead the way sir." Ghost replied to him, the two teams then got into their own respected Van's as Price's van led the way to Shadow's Estate.
The team soon found themselves at the outskirts of Shadow's estate, staring at it in the distance. It was highly guarded. More than usual, thankfully their Intel was right… The Shadow's estate laid within the forest closest to the mountains, well hidden it seemed. Shepherd always let Graves do whatever he wanted, as he always said.
"He's a dog with a bone, and I highly recommend you don't try and take it."
That was the last thing Shepherd said to Price before he went into hiding. Ever since then no one heard of Shepherd again, not even Laswell could get a good look into where Shepherd had disappeared off too… Pretty much he was off grid. So no one else could ever find him. However, Price was very much determined to find Shepherd and put this feud to a rest once and for all.
Thanks to their mole they had within Shadow, they told TF141 and the others Graves was indeed keeping Elvira captive. She was going through intense interrogations, just so Graves could get the location of Price. Elvira was kept captive in a room somewhere in the estate, Price was the one to look for her while he got some cover behind him. It was late at night approximately at 1:00am. One by one shadows fell down the light towers, their bodies slamming down to the ground with a thud. Alex and Ghost used their snipers and discretely took out the lights to hide the dead bodies. This was only the beginning, before they went all guns blazing on the place.
"All clear." Price's voice could be heard over comms, his team took out the Shadow's up at the front of the estate. He walked up the steps, kneeling down to the door using a snake camera to see what was going on inside. No one seemed to be guarding the entrance.
"All clear here too." Ghost spoke over comms as well, he placed a C4 breacher on the Garden doors, and Price placed a C4 Breacher on the entrance doors. In sync, both doors broke and they swarmed in the estate.
Shadow's appeared on either side of the doors where the breaches happened, fighting back the intruders. Due to them being attacked on both sides, it wouldn't be too long that they got pinned down and in no hopes of escaping.
Price had no mercy when it came to the Shadow's, taking every opportunity to take them down. He shot down a few who were standing on top of the staircase, watching their bodies fall down the stairs like a rag doll. They wouldn't stop until every Shadow was dead.
"We're going to deal with the rest of the Shadow's here, go find Elvira Price! We'll get rid of the incoming reinforcements!" Alejandro said through the comms.
On the other side of the estate was bloodshed as well Ghost had no mercy with them either, his team took down the last remaining Shadow's without a thought.
"Copy that." Price replied, Farah, Alex and Gaz began to search around the estate, seeing any form of location of Elvira. After finding a Shadow that was bleeding out, and was trying to play dead. He willingly told Price where she was being held Captive, before he was killed.
Elvira was being held in the basements, where their other victims were normally held captive. Price hoped that Elvira was still kicking by the time he and his team managed to get down there. Who knows how many Shadow's were down there, and if Graves was down there too… A bonus.
Price soon managed to find an entrance that led his team down the Basement, and aimed his gun around the corners, left and right before continuing on. Gaz, Farah and Alex followed closely, keeping an eye on their surroundings. They heard a voice not so far, and that voice belonged to no other than Phillip Graves.
Graves heard all the gunshots that were happening, he sent his men up to investigate. When he heard all the screaming throughout the comms, he tried not to let it get to him. He knew the Task Force was here… So Graves took the chance to grab his gun to finally kill Price. Elvira was left tied to the chair unconscious, as Graves was about to leave the room.
The door was breached, which Graves covered his face for a second. He got tackled by Price, before he shot Graves in the head with no hesitation at all. All of it seemed to hit Graves so quickly, facing death itself.
"Goddamn bastard…" Price mumbled and he turned over to see Elvira, he immediately went towards her and untied the ropes around her. Lifting Elvira up into his arms, holding her closely. "Love? Elvira? Are you okay?" He spoke softly.
Elvira slowly woke up confused as she looked at Price before hugging him tightly. "John…" She whispered softly, he in return wrapped his arms around her as well holding her closely.
"Let's get you out of here okay?" Price lifted her up into his arms and took her out, while Alex, Farah and Gaz were planting C4's.
On the sidelines Ghost, Soap, Alejandro and Rudy also planted. C4's every part of the estate. Once the group had made it out they made sure they got to a safe distance, they pulled out the detonator and pressed the button. The place exploded into smithereens.
"Let's get the hell out of here." Ghost spoke gruffly and walked away, and with that the others followed him. Price still carried Elvira in his arms, watching her fall asleep in his arms. Relieved that she was safe and sound once more.
Elvira soon woke up groaning in pain a little, she felt her body being wrapped around in a bandage. She blinked a little, looking up to see Price cutting the bandage and setting the scissors aside. She had a nasty infection, luckily he treated it quickly.
"How are you feeling love?" Price asked her softly, placing a hand over her head. Checking to see if she had a temperature or not.
"I'm okay…" Elvira spoke tiredly and tried to sit up, Price helped her gently and she rested against the bed frame with a pillow behind her. "Danke for saving me." She said.
"It's okay love, don't worry. Look at all the times you have protected us… High chance that I would return the favour as well." Price looked at her, as much as he would want to tell her his feelings… Now wasn't the time, he needed her to be better first before he would do anything.
"Would you like anything to eat?" Price suggested to her, to which Elvira nodded. Luckily he had a few leftovers for food, or tinned soup. But Price wasn't sure if Graves left her to starve or not, so he took the soup and began to heat it up.
Price kept Elvira in his room so she wouldn't be alone, soon he returned with a bowl of soup. It was on a tray so Elvira wouldn't burn herself too much. "Here you go love, hope you like Chicken soup." He placed the tray on her lap.
"Danke." Elvira smiled and began to drink the soup, she stayed silent in fact both of them did. It was the comfortable kind of silence, Price would spend the next two weeks taking care of Elvira. Seeing her slowly get better day by day made him feel better, washed relief seeing that the wounds had healed perfectly. She soon went back to work as per usual, everything seemed to be perfectly fine. Price was struggling to hold his feelings back. He didn't know what to do anymore.
Price soon pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry, for every pain I caused you for the last couple of weeks…" He spoke softly, keeping one hand behind her head, the other hand around her.
Elvira hugged him back and laid her head in his chest, sighing. "I'm sorry too." She spoke softly to him.
"You shouldn't be sorry, it isn't your fault. It's all mine." Price admitted, putting a hand on her chin. "I shouldn't have been distant with you…"
Elvira looked up at him and sighed. "John… I love you, and I will always love you. So what if the others know about us? I will protect you." She held onto his hand.
"Elvira… But I have to protect you, I-" He stopped himself, looking down at her once more. His eyes softened before whispering to her. "I love you, I love you so much."
Elvira pulled him into a kiss, they kissed momentarily before pulling away gently. "We'll protect each other. Alright?"
Price smiled at her before leaning down and kissed her again, pulling her close to his body again as both of them kissed.
-
[ Pt. 5 ]
#call of duty#cod#cod mw#call of duty modern warfare#cod modern warfare#call of duty fanfic#cod fanfic#task force 141#captain price#john price#cod oc#oc#ocs#elvira wolff#johnvira
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New trailer! Which means new details for me to obsess over lol, so get ready
First, there's a shot at the airplane hangar with a bunch of masked dudes in vans shooting the place up-- so looks like Thony's plan to bring meds from The Philippines (and to bring Fi back) will run into a big roadblock there. Probably a rival cartel (likely Sin Cara?) trying to prevent her bringing drugs onto their turf. But ugh also it looks like Arman's caddy is there????? Thony is there in her girlboss outfit when the shooting happens, so I'm guessing she was the one who drove the caddy there to keep up her appearance as the badass crime lady from 2x12 (which means she would have had to go to Arman and Nadia's house to ask Nadia for it probably?). But oh god I don't think I could take it if the caddy got destroyed... please writers, show some mercy!
In one clip we see Thony sitting on the floor in Luca's room crying with a bottle of alcohol beside her, and she's looking at her phone- the trailer makes it look like she's talking to Fi about the price on her head, and she probably is, but what if it's a sneaky cut of a different phone conversation, and in that scene she's actually talking to someone about Arman??? ughhhh help me
Thony goes to someone to get in touch with the cartel, and then we see her basically offering her services to Jorge's sister Ramona (which makes sense; she has a skillset that she already knows is valuable to criminal organisations and which has saved her life before. Why wouldn't she try offering it again?), and then Ramona says that they will protect her family. So either Jorge and Ramona are part of a rival cartel from Sin Cara and are protecting her from them in exchange for her special cleaning lady skills, or they are Sin Cara (whether Thony knows it or not) and choose to use her rather than kill her, because doing so both eliminates the threat that her drug smuggling posed to their business, and also allows them to repeatedly punish her for it until they eventually do decide to kill her.
The glimpses of Jorge picking her up to go clean up a body in some kind of warehouse are clearly meant as parallels with those kind of moments she had with Arman, but I'm really hoping that the writers will flip the expectations there, and instead of having the same kind of partnership that formed between her and Arman happen again with Jorge, they write it to be much more antagonistic and captor/captive. After all, Arman had to put her in those tough situations because it was the only way he could prove her worth to Hayak and keep her safe; whereas Jorge very much seems to be the man in charge, which means he is putting her through all of that just because he can.
Anyways this 'new chapter' they keep pushing better be Thony's mob queen era and not her new romance arc that's all I'm saying lol
( @igetthebag @prhiswife @psharlovee you guys got any thoughts lol?)
#The Cleaning Lady#Thony De la Rosa#TCL speculation#look I can deal with the loss of Arman#(Not easily or well. But I can)#But I can NOT deal with them making Thony 'emotionally closed-off is my middle name' De La Rosa even THINK about kissing someone else#So the writers better have my back this season ugh
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Just a short one-shot of Mike pining for Will for a bit. Hope you like it lmao
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“I like you, Mike.” Will had said to him.
A beat.
And then he continues. “Sorry.” A pale and nervous look on his face. He can see Will’s hands shaking a little by his sides, and the way he can’t seem to look him in the eyes like he always does. Like they always do, because they’re Will and Mike. Best friends. Crazy together.
Mike’s speechless. He wasn’t expecting this when he had decided to ask Will the reason for his behavior lately. For the painting that El definitely knew nothing about (in her own words).
He had suspected something was off, when Will talked to him in the van, when he showed him the most amazing thing he had ever worked on and then told him that El needed him. He had thought that maybe Will had been lying to him about that, a compassionate lie in a moment in which Mike had needed comfort. A moment in which he needed to believe in himself again, to remember his role in these insane moments.
And then El reminded him of what she had already said in one of her letters. That Will had been painting a lot, but that he never told her what he was working on. That he never let her see. And then the final lines… That he might’ve been painting it for someone he likes because he had been acting weird. And now it all makes sense. Now Mike’s connecting the dots. Will wasn’t lying completely in the van. He was lying about El’s involvement, but the rest… all of it... Did he really mean it?
And then Will is right on him, ready to clarify any of Mike’s doubts. It’s like Will is reading his mind, like he knows what he’s thinking, and so he continues explaining:
“What I said to you in the van was true. Okay, n-not the El part, but I meant the rest. You are important, you are the heart… to me.” He was looking at him now. Determination and sweetness in his gaze. He was kinda jealous of his confidence in moments like this. For someone so soft spoken and calm as Will, he always knew what to say when it matters most. He always found a way to leave him impressed. Mouth agape, not knowing what to say.
And Mike just keeps staring. He can feel a drop of sweat going down his face. God he’s nervous. Why does he always have to make everything so awkward? Why was he always so bad at saying what he’s thinking? What was he even thinking at the moment, really?
“Mike, please… Say something?” And Will’s closer to him now, taking a step towards him, concern showing on his face. His eyebrows pulling upward. He tries to speak, to ease some of Will’s nerves.
You’re making him sad again, you fucking idiot.
“I-… Since when?” Well that was a stupid response.
“Does that really matter now?” And he’s right. Of course he’s right. He always is. “I know this is really out of the blue and that you don’t feel the same. You really don’t need to push yourself to say anything if you don’t want to… I just told you because I wanted you to know, you know… before whatever happens with Vecna.”
His heart aches at that. Nothing’s gonna happen with Vecna. The party would kill him and that was it. Everyone was going to make it, right? Everyone was going to be alive and happy. They deserved it dammit. So why was Will saying those things? Mike’s mouth just won’t cooperate, and when Will is tired of waiting he starts speaking again.
“Anyway, I’ll leave you alone now. I just- you asked, so… there’s your answer. I-I’ll go now.” Will makes a move to turn around and walk away from him, and that seems to do it. That kicks him into gear. Mike grabs him by the arm before he leaves.
“Wait!” Will is now looking at him, something like hope in his eyes.
And then Mike is quiet again. Just what is wrong with him? Why can’t he just tell him?
“Mike, it’s okay. It’s fine if you don’t feel the same- I swear, I’ll be okay-”
“It’s not a no!” That came out of nowhere. And maybe he yelled a little bit too much. So what? Emotions, right? Sue him.
Will is looking at him like he’s crazy now. “I’m sorry?”
“It’s not…” He says. His voice softer now. He has to look down for a moment, nervous and clearly flustered, “It’s not a no, Will.”
“Yeah… sure.” The fucker does not believe him, does he?
“Really, Will. I need to… think. Give me some time, please. This kind of thing is really hard for me, you know?” He lets go of Will’s arm. It’s not a no. He’s not saying he doesn’t love him back. He just needs to make up his mind for real. To see if what he’s feeling is what he thinks it is. He made that mistake once with El, he’s not going to hurt Will like that.
And Will agrees to wait, the kind soul he is. And he definitely looks better now, a small smile on his lips. Maybe he had assumed that Mike’s response to him would be worse. That he would react in a negative way. God, he really had messed up with him, hadn’t he? Since when did he start to think that Mike could ever hate him? And for being in love with him for god’s sake! He really needs to make it up to him.
And so the next few days he thinks. God he thinks. A lot. He can’t stop thinking about it in fact. He really should be helping get ready for the final battle. He should be doing something with himself, but the moment he’s alone his mind wanders off to Will. To his expression when he told Mike his biggest secret. To the soft tone of his voice. To the beauty mark right next to his lips. To how the tips of his ears had turned a bright red as he so bravely confessed his love for him. There was something about Will being shy and adorable like that, that did something weird to his heart.
They start to plan out how they can win against the strongest enemy they have ever faced. Dustin, Nancy, Steve… everyone is cooperating, everyone is speaking and sharing information. Eleven and Will talk a lot. And yet when Will is the one speaking he finds himself not really hearing what he’s saying, and mostly just… looks.
He really had changed during their time apart. He is taller, getting almost to Mike’s own height. He also fills his clothes now, his standard plaid now showing wider shoulders, thicker arms. He looks stronger. He tries to ignore the heat that rises to his face.
And yet, if he really paid attention, there were some things that had stayed the same, even after the growth spurt. His hair, now shorter than before he left for California, was still as soft looking as always. And his eyes were the same, soft, pretty,… filled with emotion and kindness. There was no denying it, Will was a handsome guy. Okay. He found Will attractive. That’s fine.
During one of the times Mike was observing him, Will’s eyes met his own. Mike looked away, of course, embarrassed that he had been caught staring so blatantly. The conversation on the background continued, and he tried to focus on it again. And yet when he looked at his best friend the next time, more discreet now, he swears he could make out a small cheeky smirk on his face. How. Dare. He.
Mike was going insane. Will knows. He saw Mike totally checking him out.
Did Will consider him handsome too? He had said that he loved him but still… Did he look at Mike like he was looking at Will now? Did he notice the movements of his hands? Did he look at his lips while he talked wondering how they would feel against his own?
Mike wanted to know. He needed to know. He needed to know if Will wanted him like he wanted him right now. And so he made up his mind. And before their final battle, Mike will finally tell him. He will let Will know that he definitely has feelings for him. That he needs him by his side, that he won’t let anything happen to him when they fight Vecna, and that they have to survive. He is not losing him again, no matter what.
#byler#let me know your thoughts!#also if you wanna discuss byler feel free to send me asks and stuff :)
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Happy doctor who day everyone!! Next up in the nuwho rewatch is dalek!
(I'm also changing the "did i cry" bit to "did someone die" bc i don't cry often enough for that to be interesting and I've always meant to go through every dw episode and see what ones nobody dies in. People die in all the previous episodes, so I'm not going to go back and edit those)
Bechdel test pass: yes (rose and the soldier)
Did someone die: yes
Ooh the museum
Slitheen arm
Cyberman!
God nine has just the most desolate tone of voice and when he says "I'm getting old" aaagh
Theme song!
BAD WOLF ONE DESCENDING MY BELOVED
I like Goddard ngl
Like sure she's a henchperson for an ultra capitalist billionaire and is fine with the torturing of sapient beings but on the other hand she's funny so
Love that musical instrument that plays three whole notes
This is unrealistic bc Statten would not be specifying they're English; he'd just say British, even if they were Irish
Ooh here it comes
ArjdhfjafhfjjfsjfajgsjrasjftjafjajfatiatjssjtgksgkzgkstksjtsjfsfjsfsjfjafksfksfjsjsfsgkkgsstjjstgkskgssfksfkgkssjfsfjjfskgsgkszfkzgkgkskgsgksjfzfnahdafjskgzgmsgksfksyksktskgskgskgsjfsktsktgjatajtskfsjfjskgskgsjgskgsktsktsgksgksskggksgksgkstksgskkgsgksgmsnfDBAFJW
I'm fine
"I watched it happen; i made it happen!" I'm fine
"You destroyed us?" "...I had no choice" I'm fine
"And what of the time lords?" I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine guys I'm totally fine
His acting I'm
I can't
Wow van Statten you're super intimidating 10/10
God i love Rose's tank top so much
Adam, trying to impress Rose: aliens exist
Rose, who thinks he's hot: wow really?
Stkjrajfs i forget Adam said fantastic
Yeah nine maybe don't tell them you're an alien when they've been shown willing to imprison living sapient beings
But i mean you do you
God van Statten is such a bitch
Ngl the dalek was really smart and good at manipulating rose
They were like "hmm she's a friend of the doctor. I've got it just get her to feel bad for me" and it worked
Love the calculating of a thousand billion combinations like okay yeah sure but can it press the buttons that fast? Also why doesn't it lock after a certain number of incorrect attempts?
No not the west coast! That's where I live!
Speaking of which, glad to hear some good American accents
Love how he's like "you've got to kill it now" but like, they obviously can't
Yay Goddard for caring at least a little bit about the people the dalek is murdering
Good job Adam taunting the great big alien death machine
I really like this soldier. Sure hope nothing bad happens to her
Oh
Rose and Adam literally keep fucking running why are you just standing there
The electrocution was honestly a brilliant move like this dalek is smart
This is the episode where the daleks are most intimidating and best done
But like seriously though every time they bring back the daleks there's more and more of them and it just makes them less and less intimidating bc none of them can ever shoot for shit or do anything clever and they all fall for obvious bullshit traps (revolution of the daleks, anyone?) But like. This is how to do it. One dalek casually murders everyone in an entire base and it's clear it's toying with them. Like it could've just shot them all but instead it activates the sprinklers and electrocutes them all. It's (a) smart and (b) showing off. (Plus that way when they come back in big numbers for the finale it's actually intimidating and not just like oh okay look another army of daleks just like the last dalek episode) Rob shearman write every dalek episode when
Goddard so obviously wants to murder van Statten good for her
The dalek standing in the rain while doctor tells it to kill itself and the dalek tells him he'd make a good dalek is something that can be so personal
Unlike the other times a dalek tells him he'd make a good dalek, where it's just something they just say bc ooh we're so edgy, this one actually works and makes sense and has an impact. Like the doctor just told the dalek he killed all of the time lords just to rid the universe of the daleks; and the dalek is like "that's a lot of hatred there" like fuck if that didn't hit the doctor right the fuck in the chest damn
(And makes all the times they have a dalek arbitrarily say that to the doctor later feel even more hollow and useless by comparison but you don't need me to tell you that moffat sucks)
Anyway rip rose lol
Nine going off on van Statten is something that can be so personal
"I wanted to touch the stars" "you just wanted to drag the stars down and stick them underground underneath tons of sand and dirt, and label them"
Now the dalek having an identity crisis
Dammit doc really you're just gonna let the dalek out? Not a great plan
"Broken, broken, hair dryer"
Goddard is low-key hoping for the dalek to kill van Statten and same tbh (but it's more poetic what happens so)
God rose is so kind
The little tentacle reaching for the sun aww
Rose arguing with nine about killing the dalek is something that can be so personal
Love it when a companion takes moral issue with something the doctor does and argues with them and changes their mind
"Isn't that better?" "Not for a dalek"
This whole scene is just. I don't even have a word for the feelings I'm feeling
(God remember when over a decade later they wrote a story about the most ethical way to execute living beings and managed to fuck that up)
"Are you frightened, Rose Tyler?" "Yes" "so am I" I'm fine
Yay Goddard "some place beginning with s" girlboss
God this episode is so good
Anyway, up next is the long game, the title of which i had to look up bc i forgot it so that bodes well
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Dancing with the Reaper (The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles)
((Warning: Do not read if you have not finished both Great Ace Attorney 1 and Great Ace Attorney 2: Resolve!))
((This is my first time writing for the GAA fandom! I hope I did Van Zieks justice, he’s quite a hard character to pin down!))
Van Zieks trying to do a court trial with an injury that he’s hiding, because he knows he’s the one best qualified to solve the case. An entry for Whumptober under the prompt “Hidden Injury”.
“Lord Van Zieks?” Ryunosuke asked, “Are you alright?”
Barok jolted suddenly, remembering where he was. Now was not the time to dwell on his thoughts, not in the middle of a trial, not in the Old Bailey. He looked across the Courtroom at Ryunosuke and his apprentice, Susato.
They had no idea that he was hiding a gunshot wound just above his brother’s badge, that precious memento that was the only thing he had left of him. If they had destroyed it, he would have killed them without a second thought.
“Yes, I am. There is no need to worry about me.” He replied, “What we need to focus on now is the case.”
As with all other cases that he went against Ryunosuke on, this one seemed fairly simple but ended up becoming more complex under the surface. A man had murdered a woman on a London street in the middle of the night in cold blood. Despite it being so late at night, there were plenty of witnesses around.
The only problem was that the man that had done the murdering was in the dockett as the defendant, and Ryunosuke’s belief that the defendant is innocent, which had served him well in the past when they actually were, was starting to get on Barok’s nerves.
Especially since he’d seen the murder happen. He’d tried to stop it from happening. He had irrefutable witness testimony, but he couldn’t reveal it because that would reveal the fact that he’d been shot and he’d be taken away to get treated, unable to finish this trial to its conclusion.
No, he’d just have to try and prove that the defendant was guilty without revealing the fact that he’d been injured. As a man of the law, he hated hiding the truth this way. Barok tried to steer Ryunosuke in the correct direction, but he’d gone down a different rabbit hole insisting that the woman’s death was a suicide, or that it had happened before the defendant showed up. Normally Barok admired his ability to account for all possibilities, even if they may seem strange, but this time it was just annoying.
At least he managed to bind the wound with thick bandages so it didn’t bleed through his clothes. The bullet was still lodged in him, but it didn’t matter. He’d go to a hospital as soon as he won this case. Still, he kept his cloak on as a precaution.
“Are you sure?” Ryunosuke responded, “You don’t seem to be yourself today. You haven’t even taken your cloak off.”
Barok winced, “It is colder than usual in the Old Bailey today. So I have elected to keep it on for the time being.”
He turned his attention to his chalice, pouring wine into it as was the usual routine. Despite how many times he filled his chalice, he never got drunk during a trial. To be inhibited in such a way would surely lead to a loss for him. In this case, the wine helped the wound to hurt less, so he drank more than usual.
The way one of his hands shook as he raised the glass to his lips wasn’t lost on Ryunosuke’s assistant.
“You’re shaking.” Susato spoke up, a concerned look on her face, “And you haven’t crushed a single chalice since this trial started.”
“Susato is right.” Ryunosuke agreed, “At first I thought the fact that you hadn’t destroyed any of your hand crafted chalices meant that I was on the right track, but I don’t think that’s the case.”
The sound of glass shattering broke the silence between the two after Ryunosuke finished speaking. Wine and shards of glass leaked out from between Barok’s fingers as he fixed Ryunosuke with a glare.
“I can assure you, I am more than capable of breaking my chalices. Now, I don’t see what this has to do with the case at hand.”
The judge spoke up from the stand.
“True, but if something was ailing you, Lord Van Zieks, surely you would need to go to a hospital-”
“I said I’m fine!” Barok shouted, his tone defensive as he turned his glare on the judge, “I don’t need any of you worrying about me. We’re here today to solve a murder case, and that’s what we’re going to do.”
They dropped it for the time being, but Ryunosuke still wore a worried look whenever he noticed one of Barok’s few slip ups. Still, Barok believed he did a good job of hiding the wound. Heavy, shaking breaths were disguised by tipping a chalice with wine in it to his mouth, and whenever he felt a sharp stab of pain from the wound, he rested his hand on his brother’s badge instead, as he often did.
The pain was manageable for half the court trial, but at some point it became unbearable. His whole frame tensed up as he tried to ignore the burning in his chest. He knew the bullet had to come out soon, or he’d be done for.
He was trying to finish up the trial as soon as possible, but Ryunosuke still insisted that the woman was already dead before the defendant had arrived, Based on some loose evidence that had barely been strung together. It was infuriating to say the least. After a summation examination, even the jury seemed to be on his side.
“Lord Van Zieks?” The sound of the judge’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, “Do you have somewhere you need to be? You really do seem to be in a hurry.”
“N-No, your honor.” He cursed internally at the stutter and shook his head. His frame swayed a little before he tensed it again, it was just enough to catch Ryunosuke’s eye.
“I think this charade has gone on long enough, don’t you?” He asked.
Barok didn’t move, keeping his head down.
“Clearly you have been injured.” He continued, “Don’t try to deny it this time. I have ample proof. You have been shooting down any other possibilities that I have tried to put on the table, you seem so sure that the defendant is guilty.”
“It has occurred to me that there is an important question that I have forgotten to ask until now.” Ryunosuke slammed his hands on the desk and fixed Barok with a determined look.
“Lord Van Zieks. Were you there at the time of the murder?”
He couldn’t lie. Barok had been caught and he knew it. After a couple of moments of silence, he downed the rest of the wine that was left in his bottle and tossed it back into the public gallery.
“Your honor....” He addressed the judge, his expression solemn, “If you would permit me, I would like to call a witness to the stand.”
“Oh, and who might that be?” The Jugde asked.
“... Myself.” He responded, making his way over to the witness stand.
“Then who is going to prosecute this trial?”
“I will!” Someone viewing from the public gallery spoke up. Moments later, a young man hopped the wall and landed in front of the Prosecutor’s bench. It was Kazuma Asogi, Barok’s apprentice.
“Kazuma!” Barok heard Ryunosuke exclaim from across the room.
He’d been so caught up in the idea that he should be the one to put the defendant in jail, that he didn’t realize he already had someone that he trusted to do it competently. After all, the man had prosecuted his own trial and while he didn’t win, he had helped unravel one of the greatest mysteries the Old Bailey had ever seen, and he’d helped settle things regarding his father and Barok’s brother.
It had been a few months since that trial and, while they weren’t exactly close yet, Barok had let himself learn to trust this man. During that trial, the two had found a sort of kinship in the similar struggles they had to go through.
“Mr. Asogi,” The judge said, “I trust you have been paying attention to all the details up until now.”
He nodded, “And I recognize my partner here…” He gestured to Ryunosuke, “Has been spouting pure nonsense, just as Van Zieks suggested. This is a very clean cut case, as I’m sure Van Zieks is about to tell us.”
“And you trust Mr. Asogi, Lord Van Zieks?” The Judge asked.
Barok was in so much pain that his hands dug into the wood where it gripped the stand. He nodded in response to the judges words.
“Very well.” The judge nodded, “You may take Van Ziek’s place for his testimony and, should he really be injured, the rest of the case. Though, I must stress that this is a most unprecedented turn of events. Never has a prosecutor called himself to the stand as a witness before.”
Kazuma nodded and stepped closer to the bench, right where Barok had been standing.
“You may present your testimony.” The Judge spoke, looking at Van Zieks.
He took a deep, shaking breath and, with trembling hands, pulled off his cloak and dropped it to the floor next to him. Then he removed his sash, then his jacket. As each layer of clothing came off, the truth of what he’d been hiding became apparent.
Soon Barok was left in only his white undershirt and his cravat. Red blood stood out against the white fabric. A grim sight. The wound had been irritated so much from his activity that it bled completely through the bandages. After showing it to the court, Barok covered it with a white gloved hand to try and stifle the bleeding.
“As you can see, I’ve been hiding a gunshot wound for this entire trial. I attempted to stop the defendant from killing that woman, but in the end, I could not save her life.”
Silence filled the courtroom.
“My goodness, someone call a carriage, he needs an escort to St. Barts!” The Judge exclaimed. The bailiff slipped away from the spot where he had been standing, presumably to call that carriage and to notify the hospital of an arriving patient.
“No.” Barok grit his teeth, “I refuse to get this wound treated until I am done testifying.”
“But, Lord Van Zieks…” Ryunosuke started, “If you got that gunshot wound at the time of the murder, that means you’ve gone almost half a day without getting it treated. How are you not dead already?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know. But I will finish this testimony.” Barok snapped.
“Then by all means, do so.” The Judge continued, “The sooner you do, the sooner you can get treatment.”
Barok nodded to the Judge and looked between Ryunosuke and Kazuma, taking a deep breath. He began to list off several pieces of evidence Ryunosuke found and explain how they fit into the case from his perspective, having been a key witness.
“I apologize for hiding this from you all. Deception was not my intent, not in a malicious sense. I just wanted to be the one to put this man away for good. It feels… like the right thing to do… like It somehow makes up for the fact that I couldn’t save her.”
Kazuma scoffed. “You idiot. Why didn’t you call me? I would have taken this case for you, just as I’m doing now.”
Barok’s arms shook and his gaze went from Kazuma to the ground, “I don’t know. Pride I guess.”
“Well look where that’s gotten you.” Kazuma replied, “Sure, you’re on your feet, but for how long? How much damage have you done by waiting so long?”
Barok didn’t answer. His whole form started shaking, his nails leaving long scratches in the wood.
“Lord Van Zieks?” The Judge asked.
Suddenly a piercing scream filled the courtroom. Barok’s voice echoed off the walls. He hated showing such vulnerability to the public, but he couldn’t take it anymore. The bullet lodged in his chest was killing him.
He crumpled to the ground and soon some people arrived at the courthouse to take him to the hospital.
----
The next time Barok opened his eyes, he was laying in a bed at St. Barts hospital. Immediately, he noticed that he wasn’t alone. Ryunosuke and Kazuma were there just as they had been at the courthouse.
“Ngh… don’t the two of you have a trial to finish?” He asked.
“You’ve been out for a while, Lord Van Zieks.” Ryunosuke responded, “The trial ended already, two days ago.”
“Yeah, it was easy to get a guilty verdict with what you revealed in your testimony.” Kazuma added.
“I see, well that is good news. At least that woman’s killer is put to rest.” Barok’s voice sounded relieved as he spoke, though there was still some lingering pain that showed through from his injury.
Ryunosuke nodded, “I’m glad for that. This has taught me an important lesson. Sometimes a case is as simple as it seems and not everyone who is put on trial is innocent. I had briefly forgotten that the McGuilded trial taught me that. I’m sorry, Lord Van Zieks, if I had seen what was right in front of me, you could have gotten help sooner.”
“He should have let me take the trial for him, so there’s nothing for you to be sorry about Ryunosuke.” Kazuma interrupted before Barok could reply, “Honestly, he’s lucky he survived at all.”
“You’re right Kazuma,” Ryunosuke responded, looking at Barok, “You were in bad shape when they took you out of the courthouse. Everything you had tried to hide about your injury became known as they took you out the doors and loaded you into the carriage bound for St. Barts.”
“They said the doctors were able to save you, but just barely, which is why you were out for two days.” Kazuma continued where Ryunosuke had left off, “So next time, don’t be a prideful idiot, okay? You could have died today.”
Barok once thought it wouldn’t matter if he died. He’d once taken on the name of the Reaper to keep the streets of Britain clear, even if it meant he’d be the main target of london’s criminals. That was before he’d learned the truth of his brother’s death, before he realized that he had something to live for. His niece, Iris. His apprentice, Kazuma. and his eternal rival and closest friend, Ryunosuke. He owed his life to the last two, who had fought tooth and nail in court to uncover the truth when he was the defendant.
It would have been a shame to throw away his life today, when Ryunosuke had fought so hard to preserve it.
“You’re right.” Barok finally spoke, “I will not be pulling something like that again. There is no need to worry…”
He could see Ryunosuke release a breath he was holding, “Alright then. We’ll leave you to heal. We’ll be back tomorrow, and I’ll see if I can get Iris to come along as well.”
Even if the kid wasn’t aware she was really Barok’s niece, she’d taken a liking to him, so he was sure she wouldn’t miss the chance to turn down a visit.
“I think I would like that,” He responded, “So long as Mr. Sholmes doesn’t decide to tag along.” His antics were not what he wanted to deal with.
Ryunosuke laughed, “I can’t make any promises.”
And with that the two of them left, leaving Barok alone with his thoughts.
#Whumptober 2022#no.4#Hidden Injury#The Great Ace Attorney fandom#fic#gunshot wound#blood#Great Ace Attorney fic#Great Ace Attorney#The Great Ace Attorney#The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles
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