#call me plant killer. plant assassin. plant murderer.

[ineed-to-sleep]

I was cursed by a witch at birth so that as an adult, every plant I touch fucking dies

#call me plant killer. plant assassin. plant murderer. #I'm so sad 😭 my mom's bf gifted me a lisianthus and I tried watering and putting it in the sun #I did everything right and followed all the instructions and still 2 days in it's already dying 🫠 #I also tried taking care of a succulent once and I fucking killed it too. I swear it's not intentional #what's worse is that recently my cousin told me 'yk succulents are considered some of the easiest plants to take care of' well fuck my drag #either plants have it out for me or my fingers are cursed. no inbetween #sleep.txt

[popcornforone]

Handling the Situation

A Dave York Fan Fic

Damn it Dave… why are you the best person to write. I mean I’m not complaining. I enjoy it, it makes me feel good. But I always think I take forever now to write him as it needs to be right. So here we are on another Dave York Saturday, getting our fill of our favourite stabby murder daddy.

Synopsis:- You are Dave Yorks handler & have been for 2 years since an injury meant you couldn’t be an assassin anymore. You both have mutual feeling for each other which neither of you have decided to explore until now.

Work count:- 7200

Warnings:- DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! DAVE YORK COMES WITH HIS OWN WARNING! Lack of consent, unprotected sex, boss employee relationship, mutual pining, stalking, murder, assassin stuff, car jacking, PIV, masturbation, cum tasting, fingering, swearing, cheating & adultery. Dave being controlling but what’s new there 🤣.

Yea this was something to right. I hope you all enjoy peoples. Thanks for the read.

“Wait a second” Dave York scowls as he looks at the Mismatching maps he’s got in front of him . One on his screen, & one as a hard copy. “This map is dated from 1998, why do I have a copy of this” his big brown eyes dart between the two. You let out an exasperated sigh.

“Mr York if you’d have let me finish my sentence…” you start before he interrupts.

“Is it hard being the smartest person in the room?”

“I wouldn’t know, is it?” You scoff back & get up from your chair on the other side of his desk & make your way over to him. He would have rolled his eyes at your comment but after 2 years of you being Dave’s handler you’ve both got bored of it. Even though you like the little smirk he pulls afterwards. There’s mischief deep inside this killer. You get to his computer screen & stretch the map. A small sniff of his cologne always arouses you. His warm breath filling your personal space. Your hand grips his over the mouse. It still makes you shiver but not as much as it used to. “Now hold the old school map up to the screen Mr York” Dave does as you requested & you then turn the screen into dark mode. It’s clear now why you had provided him with the older map.

“Are those tunnels?”

“Yes from where they built the subway network” you look at him & he nods. “A third exit should you need it & Thompson isn’t alone or there’s other interested party’s, if you follow this one…”You point & explain that it will lead him a mile away to a power plant.

“Clever girl” he says & he smacks your bum. You try to not moan. Dave flirts with everyone, because he is the best assassin he gets away with it, also his job does require some intimate work from time to time but he has never seen you more than the best handler for him. You used to be an assassin as well until someone sliced off half of your trigger fingers nuckle . But you always planned your own missions before that, so when you decided to become an analyst & handler, Dave practically begged for you. He knew you’d keep him alive. You know what he needs to do to stay at the top & in one piece.

You both then finalise the next few bits of next Wednesdays mission so you can type it up this afternoon for him. It should then be approved on Monday & then the two of you(well mainly you) can get everything in place for Wednesday to take Thompson out. Dave is always impressed with your dedication to the cause he does wonder if you ever switch off. As you remove the usb stick from his computer, along with his signature on the initial report, so you can proposes the final changes, you head to his office door.

“Anything else I can help you with Mr York” you say in a chirpy tone. He usually will say nothing or just ask for another coffee.

“Nah your alright…” but then as you go to leave Dave then chirps up “… weekend plans?” Dave’s never asked you about your weekend plans before. You a little bit stunned. You both keep home & work separate hence you only call him Mr York.

“Erm yes… I do” you turn back to face him gripping your lap top. “My boyfriend wants to take me out for dinner for our 1 year anniversary” Dave looks shocked at this.

“A boyfriend? You kept that quiet”

“You never asked” you giggle “also we’ve actually been together 20 months, but he says it wasn’t official until he’d met my parents & my parents live in Texas”

“Hmm man’s got principles I guess, what does he do”

“He’s an accountant” you say with a sigh ”boring I know but safe, no one’s gonna look for an assassin or a handler with a boring jobed partner.” You say. You know Dave is married, Carol you believe from what you’ve found online about her, that she works as a manager at the big grocery store out of town.

“True, you hoping he asks the question, so you can be more committed” Dave asks. You can’t help but blush at that.

“Well every girls dream is to say I do & walk down the aisle in a white dress so why not,”

“You’d say yes”

“Absolutely, I love him” you suddenly realise this is the most Dave has asked you about your life in the 2 years you’ve been by his side. Pinning for a man you know is unavailable in both your worlds. No sex with coworkers you have always had that rule & keep work & home separate. “What about you Mr York”

“Work & I might watch the golf, might even go up to the cabin I haven’t decided yet” he reply’s he picks up his phone & his lips bite the side of it. He does this from time to time. It always arouses you & you try to not let it affect you. “I genuinely do hope he asks you, I hope he deserves you”

“Thank you Mr York, have a nice weekend yourself” you then do a little smile & leave, once his office door is closed you sigh & calm down. Dave was genuinely nice to you & made you feel seen. You’re angry at yourself for getting aroused while he was being polite. You shake your head & walk back to your desk, this proposal won’t write itself.

*

Dave sits there in his car, watching. He’s been following you for the last 6 months, since you wore that daisy dress to work when you were going out to a birthday afterward & he saw the real you, you let your guard down that day at work & were care free & happy. Dave’s wanted to get to know the real you from that moment. Since then with his own skills he’s followed you around. At a safe distance of course & cleverly. After all Dave is the best assassin in the world he easily goes undetected.

He sits there outside Donatello’s the Italian restaurant, a place you & your other half often frequent & he’s looking at your face. You seem bored & disinterested in the conversation. It’s also not just you as you had said to him on friday, there are friends around you, but by the looks of it mostly his friends. You politely laugh back & smile but the look on your face as you dig into another okayish carbonara says a million things. This should have been your special night but no it’s turned into him & 6 of his mates & 2 of their partners around the table too.

Dave can see your eyes show no emotion in them. You’re not giving anything to this. This was not how you thought your Saturday night would go & neither did Dave. He is half tempted to get out the car, walk into the busy restaurant, March up to you lift you over his shoulders with no explanation to anyone, put you in the back seat of his car & fuck you there & then. That’s what Dave wants. That’s what he’d do in this situation & he now pretty sure from the look on your face that you’ve not cum in months. Obviously standard & safe isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

*

“Fuck” Gus moans as he fills the condom up & rolls off you. You’ve not cum it’s been months & he keeps persisting on using a condom. You like that he practices safe sex but it would be easier for you to be on a birth control that was half decent. He had said no & actually went with you to the doctors to say that you wouldn’t be going on it unless it was injections. You’re seeing the doctor on friday for your next round.

“Well baby that was a decent day” he says & he softly kisses your lips & gets out of bed tying the condom of his already limp penis as he put his boxers on. “& you as always were so good then”

“Yea it was good” you lie to Gus, today had all been about him & his mate Harry. He bumped into him when he was on his morning run & suddenly a day you thought might be romantic & passionate turned into a lads day. You like his friends but today should have been about the two of you & what is happening right now proves it. He’s getting dressed.

“You know you can stay Gus” you say as you scoot along the bed & massage his shoulders to help him relax & start to kiss his neck. “Maybe I want morning cuddles maybe I’m not done yet”

“Baby I’ll be surprised if you can walk after what I just did to you, you’re clearly in a sex haze” you are glad he can’t see you roll your eyes. 9minutes that’s how long he lasted before he came, you clit was neglected & he just humped his way through it. When you do cum it does feel good but it’s been lacking a lot recently. He’s not the sex god he takes himself for.

“So why are you leaving? Why can’t you stay”

“Work starts at 6am on Monday but budget meeting at 8am, so I can’t have distractions tomorrow I need to be at mine”

“But baby it’s…”

“Shhh go to sleep beautiful & I’ll let you know I get home safe”he doesn’t even kiss your lips. It’s your cheek & he heads out of your apartment. You know safe & boring is best but you can’t be doing this for the rest of your life. You need 1 last adventure before you settle down & Gus isn’t hitting the spot in lots of ways at the moment. Once you hear him lock the door behind him, you get out your newest vibrator, & build up the settings as it pleasures your naked body as you rhyth in bed. As you climax on your favourite setting, you giggle at the name that escapes your mouth. You hand & toy are coated in your slick as you moan the name “Dave!” As you reach the best high you will have this weekend.

*

“Morning Mr York” you announce as you walk into his office with his usual black coffee & information for him on the missions approval. It’s the usual Monday happy patter from you. If you start off happy it might rub off on the moody Dave. You notice him in his light blue shirt scrolling through his phone perched on the edge of his desk, deep in thought.

“Morning” he reply’s not looking up. Lost on his phone. He briefly looks up as you shut the door & then he stops & looks up again. You’re in a very nice floral green dress which is buttoned all the way up & stops just above the knee. Your hair is in a messy bun & you have a small heel on. Dave has a double look, your shiny legs sticking out as you hand him his coffee.

“What Mr York, can’t I put in a bit of effort from time to time” you say as he keeps looking you up & down as you hand him his coffee.

“Obviously, it’s just there’s something different about you today,” he says with a smile & then bites on the corner of his phone trying not to think about what he would do to you. “But I notice something hasn’t changed..” he, once he’s put his coffee down, grips your left hand stroking across your fingers “… I see & feel no ring unless your picking one together” Dave sees your face drop a little, your chirpy mood moves on as you sign.

“Yea, turns out my boyfriend wanted it to be more of a friends thing for our anniversary than just us” you say “I still had a nice dinner…”

“& a good fucking?” Dave interupts & you turn bright red straight away.

“Mr York!” You shriek.

“What? You’re a woman you have needs, just like all men & women have needs” he says with a smirk. The hand that was holding yours now brings the coffee cup to his lips, always looking so plump. His phone is on the desk as he strokes his thigh. “So I’m guessing you didn’t have a moment of pure passion then”

“Mr York, there’s a reason we keep our work & private lives separate, I don’t think I want to talk about my sex life with you”

“What if I as your boss asked you to?” He says & winks before slurping more coffee.

“& here I was thinking this was going to be a normal Monday meeting to approve a few things before Wednesday” you scoff & smile. “Let’s just say that my man thinks he gets my needs met but once he’s happy that’s that”

“Damn, a man should always look after his woman first, preferably with oral or fingers strumming her cunt open”

“DAVE!” He pulls a face as you shout this at him “sorry… MR. YORK!” You shout again & then both laugh.

“don’t worry about it sweetheart, I’m amazed you still formally call me Mr York, I’m not gonna murder you for a slip of the tongue like that”

“I’d like to see you try” you respond back instantly.

“Oooh fighting talk, I like that” he says with a devilish smile. “& if I’m honest you’d give back as well as you took” somehow you now know this isn’t talking about fighting talk. Your minds gone dirty.

“Well what can I say, I think all things should be equal, giving & receiving, don’t you?”

“No I like to be in control” he says abruptly almost cutting you off. “I like to know where I stand with everything, so that when I give, it’s given good”his hand forcefully grabs your wrist . “That’s why you’ve not applied to be an Assassin again.” You look dumb struck at him.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business Mr…”

“But it is my business, your my business.” He tugs you towards him as he stands up his right hand grips your chin, firmly. “Imagine if we were a team, 2 assassin working together, the world we could create the missions we could achieve, doesn’t that sound good to you” he whispers all of this in your ear seductively. Your breathing has hitched. You feel his hand start to drift yours to his bulge.

“Dave… I”

But before your hand makes contact & you do something you might regret, the phone in the office rings.

“Fuck” Dave basically launches you out of his personal space & leans over the desk to grab the phone. His moody tone is there. “York, this had better be good” you stand there awkwardly while he berates someone on the phone for not doing the vehicle clean at the weekend for Wednesday. He then smirks at you & says down the phone. “I’m sure my handler can handle the situation, she likes all things being equal” before he slams the receiver down.

“I’ll go deal with that then Mr York, here’s the files for Wednesday” you say & don’t even really look at him. Had he sexually harassed you before that phone call? You hadn’t kissed or touched him. Was it his power over you? As much as he knows you can do what he does, does he enjoy those moments.

It’s not long after you sit behind your desk sorting out the last few things that for Wednesday’s mission that you get a message from him.

We good? Y

You smirk & reply.

Nothings changed Mr York, let’s concentrate on the mission

Glad you’re handling all of it so well. He reply’s

*

Dave lies in his bath on Tuesday night. He always has a bath the night before a mission. It calms him down. Carol always moans that he takes too long, but she lets him off, she knows he has “an important client” tomorrow. He should have asked her to join him in the bath, get his frustrations out on her, but he didn’t instead he’s got the last 5 days cctv from work of you, watching you bend over to pick up files, that little giggle you do with the tech guys & then he watches all the interactions he’s had with you. His length is pulsing, throbbing in his hand as he listens via his ear pods, a few suggestive things said between you both.

“Fuck baby” he growls as the bath water which was starting to get a bit too cold, now has lashes of his cum added to it. He almost knocks his iPad into the bath, as he jerks away mumbling your name.

*

“Coms check” you say as you get out of the car to set up your own radar to do the mission on Wednesday afternoon.

“Loud & clear sweetheart,”

“Good, although we should still use the code names Boss, not sweetheart, no matter how nice that sounds” you say as you look roughly at the spot he will be setting up his sniper rifle. It’s a clear day, not as many people about as you thought & Dave should have a clear shot to take the target out. Everything is going to plan, a little too well to plan you have in the back of your mind. You slip into the back seat of your Audi with the blacked out windows & connect the additional radar to your set up so you can monitor everything as the doors lock.

“Well I’m okay with calling you Hand if you want, I mean I am the boss,” he jokes back to you once he sees you are safe in the back of the car & looks through his site at the building 2 blocks away from you. “But what would you really like me to call you” he says & you can heart his breath hitch in your ear piece. Is Dave flirting with you on a mission?

“Boss, I’m gonna call you Boss” your trying to keep focused, it’s your job to keep other things entertained while Dave does his killing & to let clean up know when he’s done & to also check for possible complications.

“Well I’ll make sure you do call me that on every occasion, & I can hear your eyes rolling” Dave chuckles. His tone then changes. “Package has arrived” you’re always so amazed that Dave can switch it on & off so quickly. The target has arrived in the building & that’s now his main objective. You & carol could be scissoring in front of Dave right now & he wouldn’t notice at all. You’re glad he’s back in the zone.

“Traffic is good, from what I can see his next lot of security should arrive in 11mins, but oooh no” you click 8 buttons to cause lights to go Green & cause 2 traffic collision “looks like they will be delayed by 6mins taking the alternative route.” You click your timer for 18mins & so does Dave, you hear the beep from his watch down the phone. You both know that being 2 blocks away means you can get back to Dave before that time, but Dave’s got to make sure he doesn’t get spotted & if he needs to additional hits need to happen.

“Copy that” Dave says & you hear the clicks & snaps of the rifle ready to take aim.

“In your own time Boss” you say & then you hear one of your favourite things in the world. You’d never tell Dave this but it’s the way he breathes as he slows his heart rate down to get the perfect clean shoot. It’s not all bang like in the movies. Dave can do that, obviously with all the drama & can kill at close range & get into a fight if he has to, but him sniping someone & the way those lips softly part at each exhale, it’s so attractive. His eyes dilated in concentration too. You enjoy it for a few seconds you get to hear it before the burst of noise. Dave makes the shot after only 2minutes after the timer started.

“Clean, precise, call clean up” Dave declares down the radio.

“Confirm?”

“Confirm target down”

You then switch to your clean up squad who are on the ground floor of the building (hence why tunnels were needed on your map originally, but they were a final back up for Dave) & you tell them to move in with their timer set for 5mins there’s 4 of them so they can do it that quickly. You can hear Dave packing his gun away.

“Estimate?”

“4 no 6minutes, the lifts not working”

“Copy” you quickly leap out the back seat of the car & get back into the drivers seat & put your foot down. This means Dave expects to be coming out of the back door of the rendezvous at that exact time. Your car should be there so he can get out of the door & into in it 10seconds before you drive off. Your sat nav is linked to the set up in the back of the car for the best route, to avoid all the issues you set up with traffic earlier.

“Clean ups just confirmed clean & identification Boss” you say to him with you being 2 minutes out. Dave doesn’t reply, if he’s got that many stairs a to run down, he’s conserving energy. You eventually approach the building next to the one Dave took his shot from & slow down to do a reconnaissance loop, everything is clear, so you put the car in reverse ready to go & collect Dave. You pull up 20 seconds early & hit the unlock button to the car door, when suddenly the door flys open & two large hand drag you out.

“Fuck” your scream grabbing the keys & putting it in down the back of black leggins.

A burly face looks at you but your now more concerned that there is cold steal of a barrel now against your forehead.

“Keys now” a voice screams from the side of you. You realise that you’re about to be car jacked. It’s the second man who screams this. & you just shake you head at them, as your eyes fill up with water. These guys must have seen you do a loop & waited for you to pull up. They can’t have this car for so many reason.

“Seriously gents, you’ve picked the wrong day & car to Jack. Just walk away & it won’t cost you your life” you say calmly, but you gulp. they both have masks covering their faces but you can see their eyes. The one with the gun pointed at your head his hand is slightly shaking. The one who has you gripped against the door frame is much firmer, but you can tell my his eyes & hair he’s no more than 19. You don’t want Dave to have to kill these two who have just got lucky today in your 3 second lapse of concentration. It’s most unlike you. You’re also speaking very clearly because you know Dave will be picking this up.

“Ha” the one holding you cackles. “& what makes you think we won’t shoot you & take the car anyhow” you quickly side eye the barrel & realise they are blanks which will still hurt but won’t kill. You can also hear Dave counting down from 20 in your ear, he’s clearly waiting for his moment.

“Because” you stutter as the grip around your neck gets more as your hand reaches to the back of the car seat which has a small knife in the head rest. “Your amateurs…”

“We’re pros” click. Dave has snuck up to the one holding the gun behind him his gun firmly against his head. “& you picked the wrong day to do this”. The other man looks in shock his grip lessens. It’s enough time for you to wiggle slightly & grab your knife, in all of 4 seconds its plunged into the man with the guns thigh. The scream he lets out is ear piercing.

*

“Where the fuck were you?”

“Why were you early?”

“Why did you not tell me there were people near?”

“Why the fuck didn’t you check for blind spots & randoms?”

Dave & you have been going back & forth for all the way back to HQ since the incident.

Luckily you were both covered enough by your faces that you didn’t need to kill the two kids. Taking them hostage was never plan. Instead you took the two of them who you both injured & dropped them near an emergency room. The smell of piss & vomit you get used to, but it’s still not nice, the car valet will not happy that they have to deal with that. But they were just kids trying to car Jack with a fake empty gun. Anyone else would have given in but they just happened to go for you.

“Because I did so I did my slow loop & came back to your exit, & in the time after I’d checked the back mirror & unhooked my seatbelt to come & open the door he’d sprung up”

“But from where” Dave demands.

“I don’t fucking know Dave okay!” You snap back, a little too harshly.“Another door or behind a bin or over the fence, I don’t have a clue, but the car wasn’t stolen & we completed our mission”

“& to think I was…” Dave then pauses & rubs the back on his head his black beanie hat coming off as he does it. He the looks you up & down. You’re sat on his desk in your black skin tight leggins, black vest top & you still have your own beanie on. Your jacket hanging off the door.

“Say it Dave” he knows your as pissed at him as he is with you. You’ve used his first name twice now.

“No it will just piss you off even more”

“Well I’m already angry & moody so you may as well…”

“I was gonna fill out you application to get you license back!” He interrupted abruptly & the room falls silent, those words hanging in the air.

“Dave, you… you were what…” it a soft tone that leaves your mouth for the first time in about an hour.

“I was going to apply for you to be a full time assassin again.” He shrugs “but if your gonna get jumped by some kids maybe your not up for it, maybe you have lost your game & nerve” he’s rubbing his neck as he says this. His chest is heaving. That skin tight black tshirt is stuck to him. He’s taken off his Kevlar vest & is looking mighty fine, everything clearly defined, including the outline under his black cargo trousers.

“Dave I… I don’t know what to say, thank you & also fuck you for saying I have lost my nerve”

“Well if I’m honest…” his voice trembles “…I’m not sure I can have you being my handler anymore” that shocks you. You freeze, time stops, you don’t breath, your heart doesn’t pump. You eyes fill up.

“What!” You panic. This job means the world to you, if Dave doesn’t want you as his handler something must have happened. He stares at the floor. “You can’t just say that Dave & not fully expect me to understand without an…” you don’t get the word explanation out of your mouth. Dave marches across the office & grips your chin before his lips vigorously clash with yours. You lean on the desk, stuck in the spot, you minds tell you no for so many reasons but it only takes a second for your hand to trial down his side & rest of his hip. His own hands are holding & caressing your face. Kissing you like his life depended on it. You feel alive for the first time in a while at someone’s touch & you instantly feel arsoual taking over.

“Dave” you mumble as you push him back slightly. “We can’t, for so many reason. You’re my boss I’m your handler, I have a boyfriend you have…”

“When did he last make you cum?” He says bluntly.

“Erm…”

“Exactly” you aren’t wearing a belt his hand slides straight down your leggins under your panties & straight for your clit. He smirks that it is so slick. “Good girl” you gasp, as he calls you this the friction has started.

“Mmmmmm fuck” you moan before Dave’s lips find yours again, he nips a few times at your bottom lip while he sees to you, his tongue more than welcome inside your mouth.

“Dave… stop I’m gonna … i… I…”

“Let go sweetheart let Dave handle the situation for a change” you then feel two long fingers slip inside you & the friction is intense.

“Oooooohhhhhhh fucking fuck” you gush & cry as he makes you cum harder than you have done at any point in the last 3 months with Gus. He is delighted how quickly he got you off as you are perched there panting. “Fuck Dave, we we shouldn’t. Your married”

“It’s not technically cheating as long as I don’t cum inside you”

“What!?” You say in shock, before he lifts you up & he pulls you leggins & panties down in one movement, his eyes light up at the mess you have both made.

“Oooh fuck baby” he growls before he Burries his head between your thighs lapping away at the wetness dripping down.

“Dave stop”

“Why?”

“We shouldn’t”

“You really want me to stop? What does your body tell you?” He lifts his head as he removes your shoes so everything comes off from the waste down. It gives you a few second to think.

“My body is enjoying it & my head says I deserve it, but my heart…”

“Gus doesn’t deserve you, you’ve been miserable, let me take care of you”he says as he strips off his black skin tight tshirt. You know the man is Broad & well built but this is a feast for the eyes. You lick you lips expectantly.

“Wait…” you pause”how do you know my boyfriends name”

“You don’t wanna know” he says with a smirk before he unbuckles his belt. You’re not sure if you should move in pure fear or consent to your boss fucking you.

“Dave I…” but he grips your chin as his belt slides out through his other hand.

“Sweetheart the only words I want from you are your consent & your moans, don’t make me shut you up with this belt.” He hits the desk with the buckle. His eyes fully dilated full of desire. Those black cargo pants are not hiding his erection to well. you softly nod. “Vocally sweet heart “ your head is lifted more.

“Promise not to cum inside me”

“Promise, let’s get your uncorking situations sorted.” Dave’s lips meet yours again. He lifts you up & carries you to the sofa in his office. His hand gripping your arse so hard as the two of your mouths feast on each other. He lays you down & you go to shimmy off your top but Dave rips it if your body.

“I might have needed that Dave”

“Bollocks to it” the long noise of his fly unzipping has you rhything “ooh baby I don’t even have to touch you to see that body desperately craving a real man’s touch.” You fling your bra across the room. You no longer care that you are about to cheat on Gus. Your fantasy that you’ve had for the last 2 years is about to happen. Dave York your assassin your boss is about to fuck you until you can’t move.

As he drops his trousers & boxers your legs part more. The site of his long girthy penis sends shivers down your spine. He’s definately going to pinch.

“Impressed?” He says as he slips in between your thighs, he licks his fingers & they start to strum your sex making you moan.

“Fuck”

“God I’ve wanted to do this for a long time” he groans, as he teases your clit with his cock. The pre cum dripping mixing with your own arousal. “Gonna make you realise your worth sweetheart” he moans before he fully in one long deep push goes balls deep inside you first time.

“Oooh my god, fuck oooh fuck” you moan grabbing the grey sofa materials. The sting feels magnificent. You feel like any movement he makes your gonna cum straight away. He’s looking at your erect nipples on your breasts, your chest & tummy heathing, the little sweat beads forming on your head & then he slowly starts to move his penis out. “‘Mmmmmm ooooh”

“Take it that’s good”

“Fuck yesss Dave… oooh god” he slams in again & hits the spot, everything tingles & your senses are exploding.

“Does Gus do this?” He says as he does the same move again. You shake your head.

“No mmmmmm” you can’t stop moaning each time you mmm or ohhh Dave smirks. He’s getting naughty noises out of your mouth. He wondering would that small mouth of yours take his cock. How far could he ram it down your throat.

“Man doesn’t know how to make a woman feel good, doesn’t deserve ooooh fuck” Dave feels you clamp around him. Almost milking him if his seed at this early stage. “Hold off a bit longer sweetheart please” he lifts your leg & puts your left foot on his shoulder & then he finds his rhythm. He’s in the zone.

“Oooh my god god my god oooh fuck” you don’t know what you’re moaning. Even though Gus isn’t the best lover none of your other lovers or partners before him have felt this good. Dave’s working & rolling his body. The happy trail from his belly button down to the base of his length due to his hip action, is hypnotic. The man can move. He concentrating so much but you can also hear from his own moans that he is getting pleasure out of this too. “Oooh baby”

“Fuck oooh come on girl give it to me,” one arms stretches while another caresses your breasts. He wipes the sweat from his brow with the hand not holding your leg in place before he returns to your neglected clit. As the friction grows you can’t hold on anymore.

“OOoh shit shit shit” you cry “fuckkkkk” you scream as you climax, drenching Dave inside you. Dave look on in wonder as you scream, he’s sure people know he’s fucking you. He doesn’t care.He looks as you lie there spent but he’s not done yet.

“Oooh sweetheart we can do more than that” he says as he quickly withdraws then flips you onto your front.

“Fuck” you scream as he lies on top of you, his balls already banging as he’s deep inside you again. You go to turn your head to look at him but he pushes it into the sofa.

“Fuck your even tighter baby.” He snarls, his rhythm is unrelenting.”how bad is your boyfriend”

“Mmmmm” is all you can get out muffled as he fucks pounding away. He fees so good. You can feel the next orgasm approaching already.

“Fuck fuck fuck Dave” you groan, it leaks down your legs your cum, you know this sofa isn’t new but it’s going to have stains on now.

Dave’s a machine, fucking you hard for over an hour all sorts of positions. You enjoyed it each time he withdrew & covered your arse or belly in ropes of his cum. He was being true to his word. He wasnt cumming inside you. He didn’t care what you thought anymore & actually neither had you. He was giving you the pleasure you had craved for the last few months. Boring Gus with his very safe sex wasn’t going to cut it anymore.

As you bounced up & down in the cowgirl position, Dave licked his lips. You’d been exactly what he had hoped for. He knew what he was doing was wrong but with you being so willing to give it back to him he was enjoying pleasure too.

“Gonna cum once more for daddy” he asked, sweat covering his body.

“Mmmhmmm yes boss” you say still calling him the code name.

“Think you can handle me”

“I always do”

“That’s my girls” he slapped & then grabbed your arse cheek & this made you clamp around his cock so hard. It made him moan “fuck” he did it again & again. Each time you moved more, each time the slap was harder, each gasp you made was more erotic. He’s struggling to control his urge.

“Oooh Dave, more more more” if anyone was recording this it would be a blur At the pace he is going. He’s hitting the spot each time, your previous arousal leaking out. It’s too much. His moves, your pants, the way your boobs jiggle. You’re both gonna explode.

“Oooh fuck baby”

“Yes just like that” you whimper as he sticks two fingers in your arse, he’s not claimed that but it’s enough.”yes yes yes yessss yesss oooh fuck Dave!” You scream & cum, eyes rolling into the back in your head. Squeezing him with all your might.

“Oooooh fuck fuck fuck!” He cry’s, he can’t withdraw in time. He cums & fills you up, painting every inch of you. Both your slicks mixing together inside you “fuck yes” he growls before he kisses you firmly. Neither of you have realised what Dave has just done. Your both on a come down, slowly rocking into each other, panting & giggling in between kisses. Sweat from you dripping onto his chest. He sucks your left breast to calm down before he slowly & delicatly unseats you & puts you on the sofa as he goes into his desk drawer for some wet wipes, for you to both clean up. It’s only as he starts to wipe his dick, his face drops.

“We… oooh fuck” he stumbles upon his realisation.

“Yea we’ve both been unfaithful Dave”

“I’ve never cum inside someone before, other than a girlfriend or my wife, on missions I cum in their mouth or on their tits, why couldn’t I stop with you?”

“Well you did the first few goes…” he then abruptly interupts.

“Your on birth control right?” Your face drops it’s Friday you see the doctor. He freezes”you are right”

“My period ended yesterday & im getting my birth control shot on Friday” you say which is a partial lie, you begin ovulating tomorrow, Dave could have just got you pregnant. You both glaze over, Dave at the fact that he’s cheated after years of being “careful” with lots of targets for information & you for the fact that your Boss could have impregnated you. You both stay silent as you get dressed unsure what to say your relationship no longer the same. Once dressed you put on your jacket & do it up so that when you leave his office you aren’t just in your bra. You stand up & stroke his face.

“Is there anything else I can do for you mr York?” You say as if nothing haa changed but everything has. You sound sad.

“No, I’m all good” he doesn’t even make eye contact with you & you leave. You head straight to the women’s bathroom & throw up, sick to your stomach at what you just did, even though it made you feel to good.

*

You sit in Dave’s office on Monday morning waiting for him. You’d tried to work together on Thursday & Friday but it was awkward. The genie was out of the bottle, the dynamic different. You’d then been to the doctors & then spent the weekend assessing your life. You’d come to some decisions that would change a few things, but you thought it was best to be truthful with Dave first. When he walks in he’s shocked to see you waiting.

“Morning”

“Morning Mr York we need to talk” you say. Your sat on the sofa you consummated your passion on & Dave comes & sits beside you. He looks white. On the table by the sofa is both you coffees some paperwork & a little box. Dave looks at the long thin rectangular box suspiciously.

“Can I…” you nod & he unpacks the box. There is the pregnancy test you took before the doctors. He sighs deeply. “Thank god for that” he says looking at the negative test.

“I took a morning after pill to be safe as well Dave” you then hand him the envelope. “That’s for you too” Dave without hesitation opens the envelope. His head is still processing that you aren’t pregnant. It takes him a few minutes to realise. He grabs your knee straight away when the realisation hits.

“No!”

“No”

“I won’t allow it”

“What”

“Youre the best handler I’ve ever had, I can’t lose you, not over a couple of hours of sex”

“Dave… I”

“No you can’t, it’s stupid”

“Will you let me explain” you shout. Dave looks shocked. He’s never heard that tone before from you. “I spent the weekend thinking things over, I want to take my license again, I want to be an assassin, or at least a full time driver or back up & I want….” You gulp “& I want to do it with you” Dave’s face is stunned. His face then lights up & he hugs you.

“Ohhh really, you want to go back to this, you want us to be a team a real team”

“We always were a team Dave, I just need to stop living the safe life, see where I belong, get back to what I’m good at, I was holding myself back, but after that mission & then when it almost went wrong & the the rush & the passion, I can’t give that up”

“& Gus…” he asks

“Well let’s just say safe isn’t for me.”

“& I am” he asks raising an eyebrow, “you know I’m married right”

“I do Dave”I then smirk”but it’s not cheating unless you fill me up with cum” he laughs back at that.

“Naughty bitch” he scoff “you’ve got the grips of this whole situation havent you?”

“Isn’t it good to be the smartest person in the world?” You ask.

“I don’t know does it?” He can’t hold back & his plump lips crash either yours, his hand goes up your skirt & he’s amazed when he realises you aren’t wearing any underwear. “You tease” he says as that large flat thumb starts working your clit. You moan instantaneously.

“Only for you mr York, only you”

#pedro pascal #fanfic #my fics #smutt #no minors #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #over18 #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #dave york f reader #dave york fan fiction #dave york angst #dave york fanfic #dave york fanfiction #dave york fic #dave york smut #dave york pit #Dave York #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fan fic #pedro pascal universe #dave york x f!reader

[rhaenella]

You & Me - Rhys Montrose x Reader - Part 5

Part 4 | Part 6

Summary: What happens when reader assassin is tasked with killing the possible future mayor of London; Rhys Montrose. Politician by day, Eat the Rich Killer by night. But he isn’t the only person wearing different masks. 

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence, murder, immoral sociopathic behaviour, mentions of alcoholism, drug abuse and neglect, (eventual) smut

Word count: 2.8k

A/N (spoilers!) at the end.

Song: No Good – KALEO 

The sun was already setting by the time Rhys left you to return to the main house. The business that he needed to take care of really did involve you. Now that Lockwood had sent you after him, Rhys needed to find a way to get to the man. Not only for the reasons he had explained to you before. No, killing him was now even more vital because of the possible threat Lockwood posed to you. If you wouldn’t deliver in ending his own life, there was no saying what Lockwood would do to you in retaliation. Rhys knew that even though the man would never get his own hands dirty, he would still go to extreme lengths to preserve his power and dominance. And that included taking care of liabilities. It wasn’t difficult for Rhys to arrive at that conclusion as he would do the exact same thing. 

It was all the more reason to grab the nearest shovel and bury him six feet under ground where his body and vileness could rot.

This was why Rhys needed to speed things along a little, even though you were clearly still conflicted about working together to kill Lockwood — or whomever after that. He understood. It was a big offer he had put on the table. But he knew for sure now that the unexplainable connection he had felt the first night he’d seen you, was reciprocated. You felt it too. Rhys could see it in your eyes. Even though you denied him now, he was certain you’d accept his offer eventually. It might take some time, but he could wait. And in the meantime, he would start his preparations and make sure there was no way Lockwood would be able to get to either of you. 

Rhys had been patiently waiting for the right moment to meet you for months now and still it occurred sooner than he had originally planned. Lockwood had personally seen to that. Rhys had initially wanted to meet you on his terms. To wait until everything was perfect. But his previous plans had been interrupted the day before when he recognised you, despite your best efforts at a disguise, when you all but ran into him at the park. Rhys knew you had cleverly used the distraction to plant a tracking device on him. He didn’t think for a second to take it off, finding it a much better solution to use it to get you to come to him unbeknownst of his intentions and awareness of you. 

His previous, and now cancelled plans for this getaway, included at least one more of his so-called friends having to die — Gemma. She had the potential to become a real thorn in his side in the near future. Such an unpredictable and insolent woman was bound to run her mouth about the affair they’d had in the past, sooner rather than later. Him drunkenly shagging that woman while he was still married was not only one of the stupidest decisions of his life — but it was also a dirty little secret that could in all likelihood derail his plans to become mayor of London during the upcoming elections before he’d even announced his candidacy. 

Next, Rhys would have needed to find the perfect fall guy. Which is where Jonathan came into play. Rhys had already used the professor once before to clean up after him, proving himself more than capable. Rhys could use his skill set again, especially now. Because in all honesty, Rhys had been too preoccupied with you. He had told you earlier how you had intrigued him and how he had come for you. But he hadn’t admitted to the fact that he’d done all of those things simply because he couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was excruciating and highly — highly inconvenient. 

Following you as you brutally killed that prosecutor Williams was a calculated risk. Rhys just had to witness it with his own eyes. To see how you would do it, how your body would react to it, and more importantly, how you would then go on with your life afterwards. 

It turned out to be more rousing than Rhys could have ever imagined, feeling a surge of pride when he watched you unflinchingly choke the poor man to death after you’d lured him in. Williams had fallen to the floor, a pair of lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling, and you'd let go of a breath you’d been holding. He saw your shoulders relax as you reached over to loosen the tie around his neck. Then you took off your heels, placing them beside your purse, getting to work. A sense of calmness and serenity emanating from you. Rhys remained in the shadows for the rest of the night, watching you methodically get rid of Williams’ body. 

When you had safely made it home in the early morning hours, he couldn’t help but stay outside your apartment a little while longer after he had seen the lights turn off. Rhys stared at the curtain-covered window of your bedroom, overcome with this feeling of longing that he couldn’t decipher. He’d run his hand through his hair and down his face multiple times, frustrated with himself. Rhys knew he should’ve been plotting how to use you to get to Lockwood, not caring what ultimately happened to you once he would achieve his goal. Yet the opposite was true. He had almost completely forgotten about Lockwood altogether — you claiming his full attention. It alarmed him slightly. As a loner by nature, the need to reach out to another person like that felt tremendously foreign. 

Now, all he felt was the need to protect you. And part of that protection was to get Lockwood out of the way, hence why he was currently on his way to his daughter’s bedroom.

Killing Kate wasn’t part of his to-do list today, figuring she could potentially serve a larger purpose by leading him to her father. Maybe he was even doing her a favour in the end by killing the devil himself. He certainly would be doing the rest of the world a favour. Rhys smiled to himself. The first of his many good deeds that he had in store for the betterment of London. And who knew, perhaps an even broader area in the future. But for now, he focused on the task at hand. 

Which is how he found himself standing in front of Kate’s closed door, raising his fist to knock twice. Rhys put his hands in his pockets and glanced down to see if he could detect any movement from underneath the door. After thirty seconds of silence, he took that as his cue to enter the room, briefly checking to make sure there was no one in the corridor watching him.

Rhys scanned the room swiftly, concluding there was no one there. He left the door slightly ajar as he stepped further into the room so he would be able to hear approaching footsteps. 

He looked around, plotting his next steps. He started at the bedside table and worked his way through towards the cabinet, opening drawers and meticulously searching its contents. Rhys needed something — anything — that could help him get to Lockwood. He was simply looking for the opportunity that he needed to present itself. 

When the cabinet also didn’t hold the answers, he roughly shut the drawers, making the expensive looking vase standing on top rock a little. Sighing in frustration, he turned around. Come on, he thought. There must be something here.

Rhys checked the vintage case at the foot of the bed — empty. But as he closed it again, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. There, on the desk next to the window, rested the anticipated opportunity Rhys had been looking for. Kate’s phone. 

Finding Kate’s phone meant two things. One, he had to act quickly for she would most likely return soon. No one left their mobile phone alone for an extended period of time. Two, he would be able to clone her phone and use that to get to Lockwood. Brilliant. 

Rhys strode over and picked up the phone from the desk with his gloved hands. Naturally it was locked. But that was an issue he could work around. He took out his own phone from his pocket and opened an app that would do all the work for him. Y/N wasn’t the only one who had access to fancy technology. 

As he was waiting for the app to work its magic, Rhys heard the door creak open, notifying him someone had just entered the room. He glanced in the mirror and saw who had managed to quietly approach the room without him noticing. 

Gemma. Of course. Was this the universe giving him a sign? 

“Rhys?” Gemma asked tentatively, looking puzzled. “What on earth are you doing in Kate’s room?” 

He didn’t immediately answer, distracted by the bleeping noise his phone gave that confirmed he had now successfully cloned Kate’s phone. Rhys put back her phone on the desk in the exact same position as before and stuffed his own phone back into his pocket. 

“Are you shagging her?” There was a note of jealousy present in her voice. 

Rhys could feel his patience dropping and his temper rising. Really, he could just—

“Answer me,” she demanded. “Look at me!”

He slowly turned around, his hand reaching behind him to take hold of the letter opener that was just lying there for grabs on the desk. Rhys kept it hidden from her view as he slowly stalked towards her, his face completely devoid of any emotion. 

Gemma’s angry expression slowly morphed into one more closely resembling fear. He advanced on her, completely ignoring her stuttering. “What– what are y-you doing?”

Rhys didn’t give her a chance to run as he closed the final distance in a single stride, raising his right arm and plunging the letter opener directly into her carotid artery. Her fear turned into shock as Rhys pulled out the letter opener with force, careful to avoid any blood spatter. Gemma’s expression eventually turned into nothing as he watched how her wretched soul departed her body, dropping lifelessly to the ground. 

Then, at last, silence. 

Rhys watched as the blood rapidly pooled around her and huffed in annoyance. Now what?

His senses now on even higher alert than before, he clocked the distant sound of heels approaching. It made him briefly pause and check Gemma’s feet — bare. So, that’s how he hadn’t heard her. Oh, Gemma, he internally scolded. 

Rhys thought quick on his feet, dropping the letter opener next to Gemma’s body before marching towards the door that connected Kate’s room to Jonathan’s. They would find her body, there was no stopping it now. But he could still slip away unnoticed. 

He waited behind the door in Jonathan’s room, carefully listening to what was transpiring on the other side. Rhys could make out the sharp inhale of a breath followed by a thump. Was it Kate? Had she just found Gemma’s dead body?

From a distance, Rhys heard someone shouting. It was Jonathan, he realised, calling out for Kate. A thrill ran through Rhys at the prospect of what would happen next. He really should’ve been getting the hell out of there, but his feet were seemingly glued to the floor. His curiosity getting the best of him. 

Rhys heard a loud noise like someone hastily rushing through the door. Then another moment of deafening silence. 

“I don’t know why I grabbed this.” 

Kate. Had she grabbed hold of the letter opener? The murder weapon. Oh, splendid. 

Jonathan still had no clue that Rhys was the one who had dumped Malcolm’s body in his kitchen. Nor that he was the one sending him all these taunting text messages. Jonathan now finding Kate next to a fresh corpse and also holding the object that killed Gemma was an interesting turn of events to say the least. 

Rhys kept listening as Kate tried to explain herself to Jonathan, tried to convince him that she hadn’t done this. And he kept listening, even as he heard them starting to devise a plan to get rid of Gemma’s body — to at least hide her for the foreseeable future. Even though Rhys knew of the developing relationship between them, this was something he couldn’t have predicted. 

How fascinating, he thought. Let’s see how this plays out.

––

The reality of the situation finally started to dawn on you. At least in terms of what Rhys truly wanted from you as you laid there staring at the mould-covered ceiling. It had never been about catching his attacker and killing them in cold blood. Instead, Rhys wanted to work together. As partners. As equals. 

You should’ve been appalled by the situation, and in a way you were, but there was also a part of you curious to see where it could go. What could happen. You’d recognised that slight shimmer of hope in his eyes as Rhys explained to you how he envisioned both your futures. Interests aligned. Was that even possible? Your doubts for now out-winning the battle raging inside of you. 

He couldn’t be good for you, or even more importantly, for your sisters. Zoe’s horrified comments on the murders still fresh in your mind. How could you possibly expose them to that? Yet, with everything that Rhys had said about protecting those you love, part of you felt that he would not be a threat to them. But what if he proved you wrong? What then? It would be a decision you could never take back. And you would regret it for the rest of your life.

You had sworn to take care of your sisters, to protect them from the evil in this world. Nevertheless, you were also painfully aware that you might have just openly invited that evil into your little bubble as you had been freely unleashing your own inner monster to take care of them and keep them safe.

You groaned, moving onto your side to face the hole in the ceiling. The sun had set and your little prison cell was now illuminated by the full moon and the single small lantern on the side table close to the door. The shadows created an eery atmosphere whilst you waited for Rhys to return. 

You weren’t scared of him, even though you likely should be. All the same, you felt this inexplicable conviction that he wouldn’t hurt you. Was it naive? Perhaps. Although you wouldn’t necessarily label yourself as such. 

Maybe it was due to this thing you couldn’t shake. It felt like you knew him somehow — like he felt familiar to you. It was something you couldn’t for the life of you understand. 

That initial feeling of a bond between you — did he feel it too? He admitted it more or less when he told you of the connection he felt. It was like he saw right bloody through you.

God, you were losing it. You sincerely hoped that all of this was the Stockholm syndrome talking. There was no way in hell this was actually happening. 

Your thoughts were interrupted as you heard some movement behind the door. You quickly sat up, estimating on the basis of the angle of the full moon’s light that penetrated the barred ceiling that about four hours had passed since Rhys had left you alone to organise your thoughts ‘in peace’. 

The sound of the heavy door opening as it noisily scraped the floor made you look in his direction. 

Rhys entered slightly out of breath, looking positively dishevelled as he ran a hand through his unruly curls.

“What happened to you? Killed another person?” You couldn’t help but teasingly joke, taking in his state as your eyes roamed freely over his physique. 

Rhys had put his hands on his hips, taking some deep breaths to slow down his heart rate. When he looked up at you, head tilted to the side, he shot you his charming smile that feigned innocence.

No way.

You stared at him. 

No way the man was truly this brazen.

He started to move closer to you, his eyes mischievous as they betrayed his wicked actions. You marvelled a little at how quickly you were getting better at reading him. Perhaps you recognised the murderous tendencies from the mirror. 

“I suppose congratulations are in order then.”

Rhys stopped a couple of feet from where you were still sitting on the uncomfortable bed. He frowned a little, but you could make out the amused little twinkling in his eyes. He knew damn well what you were hinting at.

“You’re officially a serial killer now.”

–––– 

A/N: Hmm, I do wonder what Rhys has been up to after killing Gemma and watching Kate and Jonathan clean up his mess that makes him return so dishevelled and out of breath… stay tuned to find out!

Also, I don’t know why but this chapter’s song really translates Rhys’ chaotic nature for me 

#rhys montrose x reader #rhys montrose x female reader #rhys montrose fanfic #rhys montrose fic #rhys montrose #you netflix #you season 4 #you season 4 canon divergence #jonathan moore #joe goldberg #goldrose #ed speleers #rhys montrose x original female character #on ao3 #you and me

[blorbo-adoption-poll]

Adoption poll preliminary match 12

Kakashi Hatake (Naruto)

Qiqi (genshin impact)

Venus (solarballs)

Bernadetta von Varley (Fire Emblem)

Only two will move on

Propaganda under the cut

Kakashi Hatake (Naruto) Propaganda

He joined the lower ranks of the Ninja-Military at like five and then Dudes Father killed himself, he does not have a mother, when he was like six because he was bullied to death by the entire village for refusing to heed a rule that would have made him sacrifice a teammate of his.

After that he lived alone in the house where his Father killed himself and got like an obsession with not breaking the rules and they just let the kid keep running around in the Ninja-Military and a teammate of his "killed" right after he went "maybe sacrificing people for missions isn't good" pushing him out of the way of a bunch of rocks and then he got his dead teammates Red Ninja Eye transplated into his skull.

His other teammate killed herself by impaling herself in his hand in order to protect the village because she had a creature implanted into her that was supposed to come out and destroy everything, kinda like a living bomb.

I think this all happened before he was approximately thirteen.

And you know, there's only one more thing you can do now, as his teacher who's the highest governmental authority in the village and also dies by the way decided. Put him into the super secret (everyone knows about them) assassin murder furry corps. Where he spent like a decade before being spontaniously kicked out to go from professional government Killer to Teacher of possibly the most fucked group of children known to men, two third of which are tied to people from his past.

He's like twenty-seven and just another Orphan in Orphan Town. There is no one in your way, custody is ripe for the taking.

I'll be honest, I haven't seen Naruto, but I do know a good part of the Lore through other means. The guy reminds me of a rescue dog.

Qiqi (genshin impact) Propaganda

My girl tragically died trapped in a cave due to a demon battle, dying with sad thoughts so sad it gave her a Cryo vision. The Adepti felt bad so they revived her, but she came back as a murderous zombie so they had to seal her in amber for a long time. When she finally came out, she was peaceful but has a terrible memory and must follow commands now. In order to break her out of a command that makes her “stuck”, she has to be hugged and told that she’s loved… and when her main guardian tries it, it doesn’t work. And poor Qiqi has become the poster girl of “losing the 50/50” within the fandom, there’s even a whole lamenting song about “I pulled a Qiqi”. Well maybe I *want* a C6 Qiqi and am frustrated I keep pulling Keqing and Tighnari!

Venus (solarballs) Propaganda

Cute lil grumpy planet that has a gruff voice n hates being called by his namez meaning!!

Bernadetta von Varley (Fire Emblem) Propaganda

My Beautiful Bernie Bear! She needs to be swaddled in the comfiest blankets and gifted all the stuffed animals and insectivorous plants in the world. Her dad was super abusive beating her friends and tying her to chairs and her mom hired someone to kidnap her to send her to the officers academy. There she’s basically a child soldier but at least she’s away from her parents and gets a real found family.

She has so much anxiety and is constantly paranoid of everything so she spends most of the game locked in her room. She only comes out on specific occasions and in the one route where she feels comfortable.

She’s often the first person I talk to each in game month and she’s such a joy. She’s so creative and kind and ah! I want to adopt her so bad!

Also one of the ways people use her in game is to keep her at as low health as possible and that’s so mean and I need to protect her.

#tournament poll #adoption poll #kakashi hatake #naruto #qiqi #genshin impact #solarballs #bernadetta von varley #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 14 - Battle Of The Psychos

Though it was pretty late into the day and Ohma was outside, practicing and warming up for the longest time... Kisara was in the deepest sleep she could be. It was such a sweet dream that the man, once he returned to their shared room to take a shower and wake her up, he almost didn't have the heart to do so... 'Almost' being the key word. He was feeling incredibly cocky and confident in anticipation to his next round. He didn't care who his opponent was, no matter how many times the red head warned him over and over again that it's going to be a dangerous match. On the other hand, he was feeling rather playful, so making sure he turns her to lay on her back and took a strand of her hair, tickling her face. She was scrunching her face and waving her hand lazily to make the nuisance stop, but it just wouldn't. But then, she mumbled the funniest thing she could, in a sleepy yet murderous voice.

"I'll kill you, you fucking pest." it made her partner chuckle at her before he flicked her forehead, forcing her to wake up with another cursed. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. I've got a match to win, and you've got a lot of cheering to do." The girl growled, half-awake, and planted her palm over his face. "Gosh, you're loud. Don't you know that Sleeping Beauty woke up after a kiss? Why do you expect me to wake up under different conditions." though he laughed at her, he indulged her semi-awake fantasy and kissed her before he grabbed her arm and got her out of the bed. "Happy now, Your Majesty?" her answer was a cheeky grin and a double thumbs up as she stumbled backwards towards the bathroom to get ready.

Loud music was heard from the bathroom and the girl was getting ready for an eternity - Or at least, that what Ohma, who never bothered with anything fancy like that, thought - So he did some shadow boxing while waiting. Thankfully, that was enough to make the time pass by. When Kisara was finally ready, she looked like a beautiful assassin or a mafia don. Sporting black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of black jeans with a golden chain, leather boots and black light trench coat over her shoulders, a black and gold watch and various opulent golden jewellery, her crimson hair just a little bit wavey an that katana attached to her him, she could have passed as some real deal killer from a yakuza organization. Ohma's pride and cockiness went up by miles. With his arm around her shoulder, the two walked together to the arena, and though the fighter went to watch the fight from the stadium, the red head went down to say her good lucks to Cosmo. She was afraid for him - That police guy is a complete psycho with speed and reflexes and a perfect defense. A real monster. Not on par with Raian, per se, but Cosmo, albeit a prodigy, was still an inexperienced child... Well, inexperienced, but with over 25 matched won or something. But Ohma was a great all-rounder with life experience and enough street fights that he might find fighting trickier opponents a bit easier.

As soon as she got at the entrance to the arena, Cosmo, Akira and Adam were already there, ready to get out there and fight. "Hey, boy! You better not lose to no fucking pig! A.C.A.B. , boy! All Cops Are Bastards!" Adam was sneering and frowning in pure rage and hatred for the police force, showing an aggressive thumbs down. "Go get 'em, Cos." Akira was smirking with full confidence in his fighter. Unlike the two men who were encouraging the young one with a hands-off approach, Kisara stepped in front of the boy and tilted her chin up to get a better look at him. "Show him who's the Grappler King, Cos." she grabbed the boy into a tight hug. "I've got such a pretty sis cheering for me, I can't afford to lose, can I? Thank, you guys, I swear I'll win!" he had a determined look on his as he pulled back and went inside the arena as soon as he was called by Sayaka. "How come he's not wearing his shirt? Is he gonna be okay?" she looked at Akira with mild concern. She knew his skin was rather delicate, and if he were to be wrestling on the ground, the friction with the sand might cause bleeding from the surface damage. "He was afraid he might get grabbed by that fucker." Akira explained. "Remember how his shirt got ripped by Adam? It put him at a disadvantage. Adam is a great brawler, but this guy is not right in the head. Gotta grab at any advantage there is." "I understand... And I guess it makes sense... I just hope the pluses will out weight the minuses." she muttered. "But how come he looks in top shape? Ohma has tons of scars all over his body, and even admitted he's not fully recovered after his fight with Ryo. He did get thrown around quite a lot... And Adam, you're a super strong brawler and you delivered enough punched to his body. I know he's a fighter, but he's still 19, about my size, and nowhere near as packed with muscles as most of the fighters. Proportionally, I think the damage Adam inflicted on Cos should have been more visible... Or, at least, felt." with great concern for the boy, Adam, too, raised his eyebrows realising the truth of her statement. "Miss K is right, is he really as undamaged as he looks?" his arms were crossed over his chest. "Hardly. He's sustained full body contusions, as well as cracks in his forearms. He's just using painkillers to cover it up." Akira frowned, his voice getting solemn all of a sudden. "I should have known... After a fight like that, I don't think even Wakatsuki would get out undamaged." the red head hummed sadly. "WTF?! You fuckin' sent him out to fight like that?!" the American barked out, outraged. "...No. Cos decided to enter the match himself. He said - You've gotta expect injuries in a tournament - with a smile." they could all envision the kid's bright smile as he declared his participation. He had a fantastic future ahead of him. "...Fuckin' dumbass...! I would've taken his place if I'd known..." it seemed like Adam and Cos had a really lovely friendship, if he could be so overprotective of him. "Akira... You know, I always encouraged Cos, and I strongly believe that he will have a bright future. He's a fantastic fighter, especially from his age, and knowing him since he was - What, 14? 15? He's only gotten exponentially better and better. He's so cheerful, ambitious and only sees beyond the borders of the horizon..." the girl abruptly turned around, her brows furrowed in a sorrowful, worried expression. "...But when he faces his first defeat, will he be able to bounce back and learn that there's only one way to go, and that is upwards, towards the sky? That you always learn from your mistakes, and that there's more to learn from failure than from wins?" "Cos won't lose, Kisara. Have some faith in him." despite saying that, Nishihonji knew she wasn't wrong. "Not now, yes - But whenever that will happen? Not even Wakatsuki has a perfect record. Put Cosmo against him... Against Hatsumi or Agito. Do you think he'd win? I guarantee you, he wouldn't. He'd be completely overwhelmed. What then? Say - Cosmo wins today, and let's imagine he beats Ohma. He'll be against Wakatsuki. Do you really think he'd get past that?" she asked, crossing her arms. "I'm not saying this to discourage anyone. I'm just worried for his mental and emotional health. Young talents like him always fall down incredibly hard once they've tasted defeat." with a sigh, the CEO sighed and nodded. "I know, I know Red. But Cos is like my little brother. I won't let him go down no matter what." he was determined to make sure his fighter was alright.

As the fight began, Akoya took the same stance as the first time around, as if his arm was a policeman's shield - He really was a defense specialist, whilst Cos, shocking everyone, took an uncharacteristic upright stance. No, this must be a feint. He can't win in a battle of blows, so he has to trick him. Kisara knew better than anyone how important it was to deceive an enemy stronger than you. 

To go through with this enigma, he had to close the distance with quick but vey careful footwork - He did a jab feint followed by a left inner low kick, but as expected, Akoya had no problem taking that light hit. The blond widened the distance once again with quick backward bounces, only to lunge forwards again and performed a wheel kick over the enemy's head.

"Gahhh, bullshit! Is that dickhead for real?!" Adam was stupefied at what he was seeing. "He's actually trying to beat the fuckin' cop with nothing but blows!" "No, he's not." Kisara cut him off sharply. "He's tricking him." "Trickin'? Are we watchin' the same match, Miss K?" Adam certainly wasn't much of a deep thinker. "I do the same when I'm fighting. Most fighters are like 10 times stronger than me. If I take a direct hit, I'm dead. Did you see Cosmo when I was next to him? We're almost the same height, same weight - The only different thing is that his body is covered in better worked muscles, but that's it. Even his skin is fragile like a girl's. When you're against a powerhouse that can take blows from someone like Haruo... What chance do Cosmo's kitten hits have to inflict damage on that psycho? None. Therefore, they're all a ruse to make Akoya focus on the blow aspect of the fight, and once the opportunity arises, Cos will get him in a grappling hold without a second thought. Outsmart your opponent and win with well-refined techniques. That's his only chance to win against someone like Akoya." the red head explained, making Dudley's eyes go wide with understanding. "Shit, miss, you're smart." he muttered under his breath. "Red here’s sneaky and fast on her feet. If anyone knows anything about tricks, it's her. If that bastard is a fortified castle, you have only two strategies to win a siege - One is with great weapons, which in fighting would mean brute force like you, Haruo, Wakatsuki and many others. The other is by sending an assassin to kill the king, like Cosmo, Inaba and you, Kisara." Akira pointed out the reasoning.

Keeping his upright stance, went for another feint jab, but his forearm got ripped and blood started splurting like a fountain. This wasn't good. Cosmo made some distance again - He was now even more cautious than before. This time, it was Akoya who closed the distance at lighting speed and though Cos was able to stop the approach, they were within range of each other. The jerk was luring Cos, but he ran away farther. The match was already started by 3 minutes now, and nothing happened. The audience was getting pissed off and yelling at the young one to stop running away already... But what did they know? All of those idiots screaming from the stadium were nothing but obnoxious politicians and businessmen who had not the slightest clue about fighting.

All of a sudden, Akoya went straight before taking a stance that although greatly resembled Agito's, it was far lower. It seems that he was stealing and adapting other's techniques as well. Smart. Based on the way he looked, his next lunge will be at a great speed.

Cosmo circled to the left - In that instant, Akoya circled in the opposite direction and easily cut him off. Were his reflexes that fantastic? Was he talented in Foresight too? Though Cosmo parried with his forearm... Akira did say he had fractures, so he was even more vulnerable. That punch looked really painful.

The whole fight looked too one sided. It was as if he already knew what moves Cos would do in advance, and he was doing his counters before Cosmo could even hit back. He ducked and dodged to the side, hitting Cos with a right uppercut. He even managed to deliver a clean left low kick to his right leg as soon as he was ready to evade. More, he kicked his knee to get rid of his mobility.

"How the hell does he do that? Something's not right. He's too fast and clean. Even Agito and Takeshi got hit. They took hits to get the pattern of attack from the enemy - Something, anything - But this guy is just... Untouchable. Look at him with his guard up, pushing through Cosmo's jab barrage and blocking every hit. This is ridiculous." Kisara dug her long nails into her arms trying to calm herself. "That fuckin' pig! It's like he's predicting all of Imai's goddamn moves! Fuckin' pisses me off!" Adam's fists were clenched, as well as his jaw - He was angry beyond belief. "Kaneda taught me the basics of Foresight, and I've already got a good grip on it since I trained with Hatsumi - But what Akoya is doing is nowhere compared to any good eye, reflexes or speed. It's... Impeccable." Kisara remembered very well the lesson from the previous day. In that instant, Akira took out a walkie talkie like device, saying they were 'on the money'. It seems that Akira suspected some foul play and had someone investigate for him. "Yo, sir! Why don't you fuckin' cheer for Imai for a change?!" Adam was pretty annoyed, yet still maintained a hilarious grip on calling Akira 'Sir', despite swearing with every three words.  "You're right. It looks like he does need some... Support. Kisara, you coming?" whenever Akira called her by her name, it was clear that he was serious and not messing around, as usual. With a curt nod, her and Adam followed the CEO upstairs, and passing a very cute and pouty Inaba who made a beautiful recovery and a cheerful Urita, we saw the mass of bodyguards tied up by the assassin's fantastic hair. "Ryo~♪ You're all better, I'm so glad~♪! And your hair is as great as ever!" Kisara grinned at him as they walked by, and the boy smiled and waved at her friendly. Now she wanted to do some top notch self-care routines with him. "Thanks, you two. I owe you one." Akira gave them a nod. "We're friends, aren't we? Go on ahead, we've got this." Suki dismissed his friend, urging him to go forward already.

Quickly, we opened the room to the secluded balcony room and Akira went and grabbed Hiyama's hand, revealing the transmitter she was holding. Her head turned slowly to the side, her terrified eyes glancing at the trio. Her teeth were chattering, that's how frightened she was. "You're probably thinking... 'What is this man doing here? I hired elite bodyguards as a counter measure against attacks.' And it seems like you did hire a couple of tough guys to defend against attacks from other corporations. They all have resumes that'd put your average fighter to shame. But I've got a very good friend of my own, and there aren't many fighters that can deal with his sneak attacks." Akira's monologue was taking its toll on the short woman. "And now, you're probably thinking 'How did he fin out I was cheating?' Now, that's simple. I've been intercepting all your signals. It looks like you've taken careful precautions against eavesdropping, but I know a specialist in the field. Of course, we couldn't get our hands on definitive evidence." oh, surfer dude is ruthless! No wonder he's a CEO in this messed up organization. "When did you figure it out?" the woman asked in a soft, meek yet incredibly desperate voice. "It was just a little hunch at first. I was bothered that Akoya seemed to be capable of predicting his opponent's attacks, so I decided to do my research on your team before the second round began. I wasn't certain of anything, of course. I looked into you too, Hiyama, and noticed that you have a pretty rare ability. A perfectly accurate internal clock. There are only a handful of cases in the world that are on your level. Top class reflexes combined with a perfect internal clock and my hunch on top of that - With these three parts in place, it was easy to reach a conclusion. Miss Hiyama, if I go public with this, you won't be penalized by the kengan association. They won't recognise any fould that the referee doesn't catch, but Wakasa Life Insurance will lose all credibility. That will affect your future dealings." thus, Akira's voice got more threatening and dark. "Miss Hiyama. Tell Akoya to forfeit the match. Then, and only then, will I overlook your cheating." a pissed off Akira was really scary, considering how chill he usually is. she hopes she won't see the chill and laid-back Hatsumi losing his chill any time soon, he'll be far scarier. "Forfeit the match, Miss Hiyama. You don't have a choice anymore."  In that instant, Hiyama tried to dash and grab back the transmitter from Akira's hand, but Adam caught her wrist, making her lose balance. "Yo! Fuckin' Zashiki Warashi! Give it up, bitch. Your fuckin' machine is out of order."  "N-No... I can... Still... Help... Akoya... Please... Please..." she struggled - As if summoned, Akoya's voice was heard, calling out to his CEO. The girl gasped his name out loudly. "Do you remember what I said after my first match?" in that instant, her eyes went wide and the horror she held was as if she was seeing torture and death before her. "Hiyama... BEGONE." his voice was awfully harsh and hateful.

From outside, Sayaka's loud voice made the trio snap and rush to the balcony edge - The psycho was digging his fingers into Cosmo's arms, ripping into his muscles and pulling him away, until Cosmo was forced to retreat. The enemy got faster and significantly more aggressive - He was like a berserk feral monster, starving, with a succulent prey in front of him. With a high kick, Akoya tried to use his toes to hit the young one's eyes, and since he was forced to lean backwards a bit too unnaturally, he was taken into a quick tackle... Followed by a cannibalistic bite to his thigh.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING?!" Kisara cried out, almost falling out of the balcony by how much he was leaning, desperate as she heard Cosmo's cry of complete agony resounding through the stadium. Adam was so angry that he almost shattered the wall with his punch. "WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING?! HE JUST GOT SUPER FUCKIN' VIOLENT ALL OF A SUDDEN!" Adam was just as livid. "Akoya... Akoya... Has been engaging in vigilante justice against people he decides are evil, in the name of... Executing justice." the most pissed was Adam, who already had a huge grudge against coppers. "This was all for the creation of Akoya's ideal of a world without evil, and Akoya's 'activism' went well at first... But as he was fighting evil... Akoya changed, little by little. He became possessed by his killer instincts. Since then, Akoya has been fighting on my instructions in the Kengan matches... All so that he isn't swallowed by his killer instincts." the realisation of their doing fell heavy on them. They just doomed Cosmo to this torture. "Fuck... So you were his brakes?!" Adam gasped, in complete disbelief. "We just completely screwed Cosmo... Big time." Kisara's hands were buried deep into her hair, tugging to it. She couldn't believe the torture that psychopath was inflicting on that young boy who did absolutely nothing wrong in his entire life. If it was anyone else, she wouldn't have cared, but this was her friend out there, someone so close to her that she considered her real family. If she could, she'd go out there and slice that bastard into tiny pieces. 

Akoya literally ripped apart part of Cosmo's thigh muscle and he was chewing on it, taunting him, as if it wasn't enough that he must have ruptured a freaking artery, considering he was splashing blood around like a fountain. The poor boy was trembling like a leaf in the wind and his eyes were wide with complete hopelessness - He was so long in his anguish that he couldn't move. "FUUUUUUCK!!!" Adam couldn't stop his profanity string. "CALM DOWN, COS! DON'T LET HIM PROVOKE--.... ? Cos...?" Akira's voice quieted down as soon as he realised that the little one was so far gone that he was just standing there, holding himself, in a meek, submissive position. Akoya was taking menacing steps towards the young boy who wailed out in sheer fear and started walking backwards. The enemy started pulling his punches before he grabbed the boy and slammed him to the ground, mounting him and holding tightly onto his wrists. It was the same position her and Ohma were in the previous day. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't escape even with a pelvic thrust. "Oh my God, not this... This is awful, this is awful." Kisara and Adam were freaking out the bad that they were shaking each other from the anxiety. In that instant, Cosmo scream - It looked as if he wanted to give up and surrender from his fear. He was mentally broken. However, Akoya slammed his rock-like forearm into his mouth, stopping him from uttering a single word. "He's a demon. Oh my God, he's insane, he's fucking insane. He made him deliberately bite into his forearm so he won't bite his tongue from pain. I've seen it in many horror movies, he's going to torture him to death, that fucking psychopath!" the red head's nails were digging into the American's arm, but he was feeling nothing. "THAT FUCKIN' BASTARD!" Adam roared, repeatedly punching a wall as he watched Cosmo's small feet wiggling from raw agony as that psycho stabbed his thumb into Cosmo's intercostal nerve, to the point of losing his consciousness - Only to be awoken by having one of his ribs broken. The kid was outright sobbing, they were almost surprised he didn't piss himself. "YOU LITTLE PSYCHO BITCH, CALL IT OFF OR I CUT YOUR HEAD OFF AND THROW IT IN THE ARENA RIGHT NOW!" after witnessing Akoya stabbing the next intercostal nerve, Kisara took out her katana and swung it until it was glued to Hiyami's neck. "LISTEN TO HER OR I'LL KILL YOU, CUNT!" Adam, too, was raging at her. "It's too late. No one can stop Akoya now. The moment he hears that I've forfeited, Akoya will kill Imai Cosmo, then he will continue slaughtering people until he himself is dead. Stopping the match will lead to even more deaths." seeing how the CEO looked absolutely soulless, Kisara couldn't but believe her, albeit, with enough anger in her veins - Still, she sheathed back her blade and started pacing around. "Just stay calm, you two. Cos hasn't lost yet." Akira reassured the two - Although, it made both of them rather irked.  "ARE YOU FUCKIN' NUTS?! IMAI'S GONNA GET KILLED OUT THERE!! HE'S RISKING HIS GODDAMN LIFE FOR YOU! DON'T YOU HAVE ANY PITY FOR HIM?!" Adam, as volcanic as ever, was shouting into Akira's face, voicing the same thing Kisara was feeling as well. "You've got it all wrong. You didn't think I was a good person, did you? I'm the one who pulled a kid with a bright future ahead of him into the underworld, and now I've forced him to face this deadly crisis. And you think I'm a good person? Ha. I strayed from the path a long time ago. What's the point in being weak, yet good? I will become the Kengan association chairman, no matter what sacrifices I have to make. Every ambition comes with sacrifices, so don't say another damn word...!" Akira was frowning, a dark expression on his face, though he couldn't face Adam. All of a sudden, someone burst into fits of laughter - They were fake, venomous and mocking. "You? Chairman? In what world?" Kisara's face was now serene, taunting the surfer. "Nishihonji, you're a cool guy for most of the time - But do you even hear yourself? Every kid has a dream, but you don't see trillions of astronauts, singers, lawyers and doctors with each generation, do you? Some end up beggars, janitors, hobos and what not. The only person that would support you is Urita, and he already lost. You can only fight your way to the top using Cosmo, but even if he wins, he will stand NO chance against either Ohma or Raian, especially with those injuries. Open your eyes, you're not surfing, there's no way you'll become the new chairman unless someone appoints you - And in case you haven't noticed, the political sway is nowhere in your favour. That boy sees you as his big brother. He respects and cares for you as much as he does for his own brother, his master and his senpai. If you completely dismiss that, you're as much of a psycho as that cop guy is." standing straight in front of Akira for her speech, she walked past him, hitting him with her shoulder. "Adam... Take care of Cosmo, will you? I don't trust this airhead with his well-being anymore." she scoffed, marching out of the balcony room, pissed beyond belief. By the time she went went to the stadium and finding the loser bunch, she went next to them and clutched the railing tightly, trying not to voice her wrath and the guys were yelling at the ref to end the game, or for Cosmo to get up and be strong. "He already broke four of his ribs, that psycho." Naoya was just as angry as Adam. "Do I get thrown out of the organization if I go down there and kill Akoya?" the girl was leaning dangerously over the railing. "I wish we could do that, damn it." Himuro was growling, moving his cast around. However, something sparked in the young boy - Something must have happened that made the psycho dismount Cosmo and lunge backwards. "HE'S BACK! COSMO IS BACK!" Kisara cried out from shock and glee. Though he let himself get punched, he was able to grab onto Akoya's arm - Even if the attempt was break, it was still very good. Cosmo was now fighting with his life on the line. He was losing all that inner rage, pain, desperation - And focusing them on his strategy and fight. Even if he got kicked right onto his broken ribs, he still didn't get down. "COSMO CAN WIN THIS!" just as she said, now Cosmo had his A-game face on. He had the face of a real fighter now. He wasn't Cosmo the kid, he was Cosmo the Fighter, with true determination to WIN. "You're right, he's changed... He's fighting for real now. Like a warrior." Kaneda nodded in agreement.

Cosmo got in a low tackling stance - His top speed was even faster than before and he was circling around the enemy to confuse him. He was running on adrenaline... But for how long can he really last? Even his reaction time was significantly faster. Still, the cop was just as fast, and he got him by the throat, dangling him in the air, only for Cos to escape with a kick to his eye. The peanut gallery was cheering loudly for him - And they realised he was moving fast into Akoya's blind spot. Cosmo was able to get him into a tight Python Hold.

"DON'T LET GO, COSMO! DON'T LET GO!" Kisara yelled out as loud as her lungs kept her. Next to her, everyone was encouraging the boy to hold on and destroy that bastard. The psycho started running backwards, slamming Cos into the wall, but even that wasn't enough. And he got slammed again. And again, but this time, down on the ground - And he let go of his sleeper hold.

But that was just what Cos wanted, because he tripped Akoya, slipping his limbs around him and getting him into yet another suffocating hold - But Akoya's hand was free, and he had free reign to punch at Cosmo's ribcage. And he punched and punched and punched, and Cosmo wailed - But no matter what, he didn't let go.

"I AM THE KING OF STRANGLERS, IMAI COSMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" with one last act of torment, the Grappler shrieked his throat raw, his fist up in the air, as Akoya fell limp over him. "HE WON!!!!!!!!!!" Kisara jumped on Kaneda, hugging him and swinging him around. "GOOD JOB, IMAI!" the guys around were celebrating his win.

The whole stadium was chanting Cosmo's name loudly - But it was now the time for Kisara to dash out of there and look for Ohma. She went to the waiting room, passing by Yamashita who looked rather distressed, and she found Ohma doing his warm up. With a sweet smile, she got in front of him and bent to his level. "How are you feeling, champion~❤️?"  "Hasashi Kisara. I have a favour to ask." Ohma was serious - It made the girl widen her eyes and straighten her back. "What is it? Is it about Yamashita Kazuo?" Tokita, too, got up and put his hands on her shoulders, flashing a quick smile. "As intuitive as always. That's why you're good at predicting your opponent's moves with ease." as always, his mind was fixed on fighting. "The Kure Clan is threatening Yamashita Kazuo's eldest son. He's the true CEO behind Under Mount Inc, the company that hired the Kure Clan to begin with, but that old relic claimed the kid deceived them. The deal is that I have to beat that dumb shit to save that kid's life." Kisara started blinking rapidly from the shock. It wasn't easy processing such information, but she should be used to all sorts of crazy things by now. "You want me to take care of him while you're fighting, huh? It goes without saying, I wouldn't let anything happen to the old man. I already almost killed someone on impulse. Might as well get some proper warm up now." she chuckled lightly. "Don't worry your pretty head, just do what you always do. Beat that guy into oblivion. I'll take care of the rest." Ohma nodded, knowing she could rely on her. However, the next thing he mentioned was completely unrelated. "Imai Cosmo's match made me realise I have to teach you how to defend yourself better. It was funny yesterday, but now that I saw even that kid unable to escape a mounting properly, I knew I had to find something that would help you out. After this, we'll find something, okay?" she held a grateful smile - They were thinking in sync, as always. "Let's go after him. He can't stay alone too long." this comment made the girl pinch his chiseled cheek. "You're surprisingly considered and soft today, aren't you? Have I melted you, Ohma~❤️?" she had one of those enigmatic fox-like smiles. "If I say yes, will you stop pestering me?" her smile grew wider. "Then I'll claim my good luck kiss and leave." the brunet grabbed her face and pulled her into a deep kiss, leaving the girl awestruck as always. He didn't wait for her to wipe that sparkling smile off her face - He just put his arm around her shoulder and guided her out of there.

Halfway through the corridor they caught up to the manager who looked incredibly disheartened. "Don't you worry. I'm not letting them kill your oldest son." the fighter was as cocky as always. "Besides, why would I lose to that punk-ass brat? Just sit back and watch me. I'm gonna take his ass down." the girl laughed at his confident speech. "...Raian was right about me... I'm pissed at myself... It's all my fault that Kenzo turned out this way." Yamashita proceeded to tell the two about his relationship with Kenzo from his very childhood - How he was a sweet and very smart boy who loved to read and hated sports, but still indulged his father in playing baseball together to bond... Then one day, around highschool, he's changed drastically, and since then, he's shut himself in his room and wouldn't come out to see any of his family. The old man was so afraid of facing him, so afraid of him and what he's become, that he let him be. His wife left him, Yasuo became a delinquent, and he was all alone. "I know that I brought all of this on myself... If only I'd been firmer, we might still be a happy family. I'm a failure as a father, but still... I AM KENZO'S FATHER! I CAN'T JUST ABANDON KENZO!!! PLEASE, OHMA, PLEASE DEFEAT RAIAN!!!" bowing, Kazuo  was sobbing desperately and pleading for his fighter to win. 

While Ohma simply flashed him a confident smirk and walked inside the arena, Kisara's eyes were now wide, and her mouth was agape. 

Kenzo... He said? Yamashita... Kenzo...? The nerdy little boy in her class who had a crush on her because she was smart like him? That guy with silly glasses, who got made fun of a lot for wearing them, to the point that Kisara got a pair of matching fake glasses so he wouldn't feel bad? The boy with whom she shared a desk with for four years? The boy who was as interested as her in science, and they promised to go to the same highschool and University, but then he disappeared? That boy that invited her for their graduation ball, and he let her tie his hair with a pretty ribbon because it grew so long and pretty and they wanted to match the ribbon with her dress?

"Yamashita... Kenzo. Yamashita Kenzo... From Tokyo... You must be fucking kidding me." she muttered to herself as she whipped out her phone and showed the old man a phone number. "Please tell me this isn't Kenzo's phone number." "... How do you have it?" the man took her phone in his hands gingerly, cradling it. "...I can't believe it. Tokyo is really smaller than I imagined." she muttered, taking back her phone and trying to dial the boy. "I was his classmate back in school. His best friend. I lost all contact with him once we got put in different highschools. I thought he hated me... But now I get what's going on, more or less. Let's keep calling him and make sure he's okay. And... Have faith in Ohma, okay? He will definitely win against Raian." Kisara gave the old man a wink as she kept dialing Kenzo over and over and over again. He wasn't answering to her, nor his father. Damn it.

The two fighters got in their stances and the match began - Though the first to move was Raian, Ohma delivered a nice punch to his face using the Ironbreaker move. Then, he used a mix of redirection and water katas to deliver a lightning-fast, unpredictable punching barrage... Until the villain grabbed his wrists, taunting him. To escape, Ohma kicked Raian where it hurt the most then delivered a knee to his chin, grabbed him by the head and neck, and using the weeping willow, he slammed him to the ground - Not fully, because Raian broke his fall with his hands as if he was doing a push-up, but Ohma predicted that and kicked him in the face, making him fly away to the other end of the arena. 

He delivered numerous ironbreakers to the Kure's face and shoulder and chest and chin, going for a fast and deceiving footwork, Flame kata phantom dance, circling him like he circled Inaba, then punched him in the stomach. With all his Kata techniques hitting their mark, it looked like one-sided domination.

But something changed. Raian punched him so hard that he rolled backwards. "So you've gotten a little stronger - Big fucking deal! Don't tell me that's all you've got! Get back up. I'm gonna show you the insurmountable wall between you and me." Raian had a wicked grin on his face, looking down at the kneeling Ohma. "GET UP AND FIGHT, OHMA! FUCK HIM UP!" Kisara was screaming as loud as she could, hoping he could hear her... And that Kenzo would answer already. "Ohhh, you've got a little bitch cheering for ya, huh~❤️ I'm gonna have fun killing you in front of her. You're such a fuckin' let down!" Raian was laughing like a lunatic, casually wiping the blood from his face. "Your moves are all so shitty - Though that kick to the balls did hurt a little~❤️. I'm not interested in your mish-mash of moves! I wanna see THAT form from your first mach. You better get transitioning or I'll kill ya~♪" the weirdo was trying to provoke Ohma, but so far, it didn't work, and thank goodness for that. A provoked Ohma is a reckless and mindless Ohma.  "Don't get cocky, you brat." the man smirked back as a reply.

Ohma kept trying to attack, but it was clear that Raian was done taking the brunt of all hits. He's got Ohma's pattern and techniques all figured out. What a fucking monster. "I told you - It's not gonna work. You haven't noticed yet, have you? You haven't mastered your techniques. That's why your accuracy sucks." is that true? Only someone properly fighting another could realise it, or someone staying in a very close proximity. It was an interesting piece of advice. If Ohma gets out of there alive, he can start focusing on the weaknesses that he had no idea he even had. It must really suck, thinking you can do something, but you're proven otherwise.

Raian was playing with Ohma as if he was some rag doll, picking him by the head, slamming him to the ground, punching him, and slamming and slamming and kicking... But there was something weird about this guy. He was fighting like a brawler. Like he was just enjoying a game. He wasn't serious. He was using no technique. He was just on a rampage, as if he wanted to throw away all negative feelings. "GET UP, OHMA! GET UP!" 

And so he did.

With the use of his Advance.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck, no, no, damn it, not that. Damn it, Ohma..." one of her hands was tugging at her hair frustration, while with the other, she still died the un-answering Kenzo. "That's it!! Ohma still had THIS ace up his sleeve! But... It seems a little different from last time, doesn't it?" Kazuo stepped closer, now standing next to the girl. "Yes... The output seems far stronger. I just fear that it will be so strong that it will take a toll on him." and it was the truth. Ohma's movements were now at least twice or thrice as fast as the first time around... But doesn't that mean it will damage his heart thrice as much?

He was throwing punch after punch, but even like that, Raian managed to get him back... Until Ohma caught his fist in his palm. "What's wrong? Did you just slow down?" his voice was much lower, with a dark vibrato that seemed absolutely hellish. Now he was even faster than before. It was enough to make Raian use his 100% Removal. "Big fucking deal. I'm gonna kill you, whoever the hell you are." ... what is that? Why did he sound as if he genuinely had no idea who he was fighting... And his eyes - The sclera was far darker than before, and his irises were glowing blood red, just like his body. All of his blood vessels must be congested that the blood was going faster than an airplane. 

"I figured as much. It looks like I was right about Ohma's mysterious power. The source of Ohma's strength is his heart." Hanafusa came out of nowhere. "Yes, you are right." Kisara nodded at him. "And it's taking a hell of a toll on it. Two days ago, he had massive bleeding. I don't know if he'll last, at this rate." though she didn't turn to look at him, he stepped next to her to get a closer look to the fight. "I See. So my hypothesis was correct. From the sound of his heartbeat, his heart is working for or five times harder than it is at rest. Considering the amount of physical damage taken... His life really is hanging on by a thread." he confirmed what she already knew. "Ohma... Is... Going to die...?" Kazuo's revelation was a painful one. The more he thought, Ohma kept saying "Shut the fuck up, who the hell are you?" it was an awful sign. "... He's having temporary amnesia, isn't he? The damage already got to his brain." Kisara muttered, making the doctor nod curtly. The more they thought, the worse the man was and the doctor was asking the manager if he wanted to keep the fight going or... But he was already gone, most likely, desperately calling for his son... But he wouldn't answer.

Ohma was getting more chaotic with his fighting, even coughing an exorbitant amount of blood from a punch to his diaphragm,  then an awful punch to the face that sent the brunet flying in circles all the way across the stadium. And he was not moving at all. Even his advance disappeared. "OHMA, GET UP AND FIGHT! WIN, OHMA, WIN! YOU CAN DO IT! TOKITAAAAAAAAA OHMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!" though Kisara wasn't the only one crying out his name - From the stadium, Kiryu Setsuna was livid, and the old man was already on his knees, crying, thinking that he lost both Ohma and Kenzo. "WAKE UP, YOU STUPID GYM RAT! FUCKING WIN! TOKITAAAAAAAAAA OHMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!" she continued screaming raw, and she would scream his name even if it was ripped apart and bleeding and had no voice anymore. Tokita Ohma couldn't die now. He just couldn't. He had to get up and win this shit. "OOOHMAAAAA!!! GET UP!!! PLEAASEEEE, GET UP!!! PLEASE!!! PLEASE DON'T DIE!!!" Yamashita Kazuo was calling out to the man, right next to the girl, but their voices were left unheard by him - He wasn't budging from the ground... But Raian wasn't using the removal anymore. Why? Why wasn't he? Because his Removal was the same as the Advance, at its core. A technique that made you powerful, in detriment of something concerning your health - And it came with a timer, just like the Advance. This must be it, and it seemed like the old man had the same idea. "OHMA!!! HE CAN'T USE REMOVAL ANYMORE! HE'S DONE FOR! GET UP AND KILL THAT SHITTY BRAT!" Kisara was the first to cry out. "RAIAN CAN'T USE THE REMOVAL ANYMORE! JUST BECAUSE HE UNLEASHES HIS LATENT POWER DOESN'T MEAN HIS ENDURANCE IMPROVES! AFTER TAKING YOUR ATTACKS HEAD-ON, RAIAN DOESN'T HAVE THE STRENGTH LEFT TO MAINTAIN THE REMOVAL!!!" for an old man, he really had good lungs to yell out so much and so loud. "HE'S DEAD MEAT, OHMA!! SHOW HIM WHO'S THE STRONGEST MAN OUT THERE! HE'S APPROACHING! FUCKING GET UP -- OHMAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!" the two kept screaming, but they had no idea if it was doing anything at all.

Either way, Raian was prowling dangerously towards the knocked out Ohma -- And finally, his muscles were twitching. Leaning on his knees and forearms, he was struggling and trembling to get up, fight the pain, the fatigue and weak, until he was finally standing, albeit still a bit wobbly. Even in spite of all this, he now looked to be a complete different man - With his techniques, Ohma seemed far more precise with all of his hits, and they were incredibly powerful. The brunet got the devil himself by the neck and though he tried to spin him, Raian performed a neck spring and got him away - But that wasn't enough, for Ohma retaliated with more punches and even what looked to be a grappling move, making Ohma sit on Raian's upper back and keep his arm in a tight lock, it was absolutely fantastic - And even from that, he escaped. 

"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! OHMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!" Kazuo was shrieking as loud as he could. "OHMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! KILL HIM, OHMA!!!!!!!!" Kisara, too, encouraged him with just as much fire.

They were hitting each other more and more until, for exactly 0,14 seconds, Raian lost consciousness - Ohma knew it was his one and only change to defeat his foe, so he grabbed his arm, crossed his own leg behind his own to make him lose balance and fall to the ground, and he followed with a new Niko Style technique of incredible power that broke his face continuously - Until he was declared the winner.

Ohma was kneeling on the ground, panting, while Raian was sprawled on his back, looking like a dead devil. With an ear-piercing shriek of glee, Kisara immediately dashed across the arena and slid on the sad on her knees, her arms wrapped around his body, putting his forehead to her shoulder. "Please tell me you remember me. Please remember me. Please remember me." he had no strength to answer with his words, but her shaky breath and the trembling of her body kept him awake and sane in her warm, tight embrace. He needed to reassure her somehow... Why would he remember her? Why are you speaking so much nonsense? You're the smart one, not him. If you wanted a hug, you should have just said so. You don't need to cry for it. He hates when Kisara cries, it really breaks him. He can't even look at her and keep his composure when he sees that distressed look on her face, the way that bottom lip quivers and how those tears glimmer in those beautiful green eyes of her. She's too pretty to cry... Please be happy. Please smile for me.

Ohma's arms gathered enough strength to sneak around her torso. He still knows who you are, Hasashi Kisara. "I love you so much, Ohma. I love you so much. Please don't die on me. I need you. I really need you. I love you, please don't die on me. I love you so much, you can't even realise. Please, please, please, please, please, Ohma, live. Live. Please. Live." she sounded outright mental and in pain. Her voice was sending agony through his veins and nerves more than his injuries, just like back then, in the bathroom, when she caught him coughing and vomiting blood and what not. He was too weak to answer though. Instead, he felt her struggling to pick him up and drag him over her shoulder... It was just like back then, in that alley, but this time, he still held onto his consciousness. Barely, but still there. She really got stronger over the years. He was so proud of her. "Get him to the infirmary right now. Hanafusa is the only one who can take care of him." he heard her giving instructions, and next thing he knows, his gravity center shifted, and he was on his back. He was be in a stretcher, being quickly delivered for intensive care or something.

There was nothing she could do now. The infirmary was already overcrowded and Ohma had a lot of people wanting to visit him. She'll go visit him later, when the situation has diffused and she's calmed down as much possible. She was losing her mind now.

But she knew just what to do. It was Takeshi's match next. He must be in the waiting room now, 'listening' to music and getting his shit together. Ohma was is great hands. If Hanafusa can't save him, nobody can. But Ohma was strong, he won't give up now. He has a tournament to win.

"Hey... Takeshi... Is your music still off?" after knocking lightly, she opened the door just a bit and peeked inside. Though he didn't reply, he motioned for her to come over, and so she did. "How are you feeling, Takeshi. Still anxious?" she tried to put on a smile, but it was weak. "It was Tokita's match, wasn't it? Did he win?" the girl nodded, but she didn't meet his eyes. "Then why are you upset?" "...He's used the Advance again... Only, for some reason, the output was like five times stronger. And... His opponent was Raian, of all people. I hope he'll get up in two days." she confessed, hanging her head. "But I didn't come here to complain. I came here to encourage you. The Superhuman Wakatsuki Takeshi is going the win today again, without a doubt, okay? So there's no need to be nervous. You're strong, you're smart, you have great techniques. You're the Wild Tiger. You don't have anything to prove to anyone that you're strong. You just have to realise it yourself and find complete self-confidence." the man took of his earbuds and put the phone on the table. "You've got to stop crying when encouraging people. I can't stand seeing my best friend crying, you know? She's building me up while she's breaking inside. Come here." the girl let out a ragged exhale of amusement as she took a step forward and felt his hand wiping away the stray tears before he pulled her in a hug, just like she did for him the previous round... And many other times, in the long time they've known each other. Instinctively, Kisara wrapped her tiny arms around him and held him tighter. She wanted to hug the life out of Ohma, but she was so afraid she'd hurt him that she held back. She was so afraid he'd have forgotten her, so afraid that he'd die in her arms... That would break her in every way possible. She can't watch the love of her life dying in her arms. She'd rather commit seppuku than have that happening to her. So, she hugged Takeshi as hard as she wanted to hug Ohma - At least he could take the hug. "Thank you, Takeshi. Thank you. I really needed this." after a little while, she managed to take a deep breath and she calmed herself. "I think it's time for you match. Are you ready, Wild Tiger?" standing back at arm's length, she smiled at him, this time, genuinely, much brighter and filled with fire and encouragement. "Yes. Let's go." together, they walked towards the entrance to the arena.

Julius was the first to enter - And then, Wakatsuki Takeshi's name was called.

And the Wild Tiger jumped in the arena.

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

#kengan ashura x reader #kengan ashura imagine #kengan ashura #tokita ohma imagine #tokita ohma x reader #tokita ohma #wakatsuki takeshi #imai cosmo #akoya seishu #hiyama shunka #yamashita kazuo #yamashita kenzo #kure raian #nishihonji akira #kaneda suekichi #himuro ryo #inaba ryo #urita sukizo

[dgct2]

Season 4 Remy & Kristin

Season 4 episodes featuring Dylan McDermott and Alexa Davalos as Remy Scott and Kristin Gaines in FBI Most Wanted. 

Click on episode name to go to my gif sets. Please do not use the gifs for anything else. It took me a long time to make them. Like / Reblog if you want to keep them. 

I will update this thread as new episodes happen this season so check back often. 

Thanks. 

COMPLETED May 25th, 2023 

UPDATE - In light of Alexa being let go from the show, this will be my final masterlist. While I adore Dylan I have no interest watching the show without Alexa there. The dynamic between them was the big reason why I worked so hard on these gifs. Thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged these gifs. I do appreciate that.

4.01 Iron Pipeline 

A family of four from New York is found dead in a Georgia motel room; Barnes struggles with Remy's leadership style upon her return from maternity leave; Remy and his sister plan for their mother's care.

4.02 Taxman 

Rookie agent Ray Cannon joins the Fugitive Task Force as they hunt down a mysterious killer targeting IRS offices.

4.03 Succession 

After a heist in the Diamond District leaves three dead, the team's search for the fugitives reveals a dangerous connection to Kristin's undercover past in Miami.

4.04 Gold Diggers 

After a geology professor is murdered, the team uncovers an ancient legend regarding a secret treasure and encounters a dangerous fugitive who will kill to find the gold.

4.05 Chains

After Hana is kidnapped while trying to save a child in peril, the team pulls out all the stops to find her. 

4x06 Patent Pending 

After a tech entrepreneur is abducted from a rave and found bludgeoned to death at his estate in Connecticut, Remy and the team must dive into the world of psychedelics to find his killer.

4x07 Karma

The team’s Thanksgiving plans are put on hold when they are brought in to investigate whether a shooting at a Buddhist temple was a hate crime or something more personal; Remy and April make a tough decision.

4x08 Appeal

When three prosecutors are assassinated outside a bar in their small Arkansas town, the team is called in to determine if this was a personal vendetta; Ray feels compelled to help a woman and her young son combat an injustice.

4x09 Processed

When a celebrity child psychiatrist is kidnapped by the relative of a former client, the team races to track down the perpetrator and learns what really happened to the psychiatrist's client; Kristin confronts her deep-rooted trauma.

4x10 False Flag 

The team are thrown for a loop when they discover that the abductor of a disgraced state police detective is connected to someone from a recent case which is 4x01 Iron Pipeline. 

4x11 Crypto Wars 

As the team chases after the suspects behind an explosion at an Ohio energy plant, they are led toward a major crypto company with enemies looking to take it down; Remy and his sister close a chapter in their lives.

4x12 Black Mirror 

When two Vermont teens are kidnapped on their way home from a basketball game, the team are led to a wayward pastor and his brother; Remy attends a hearing for his brother's murderer.

4x13 Transaction 

The team must navigate the mistrust of authorities in a tight-knit Somali community in Minnesota as they race to find a kidnapped 14-year-old girl.

4x14 Wanted: America 

When a rising star triathlete is found violently murdered, the team chases after one of her teammates and his girlfriend; Remy reunites with a true crime show producer from his past.

4x15 Double Fault 

The Fugitive Task Force springs into action to find a famous foreign tennis player after she's kidnapped from a tennis court in Brooklyn.

🚨 Imminent Threat aka FBI Crossover #2 💛🖤

Remy and Kristin only appear in part 2 and 3 of this event. 

Part 1 - FBI International 

When the abduction of an American architect in Rome appears to be connected to a brewing terror threat in New York City, FBI’s Jubal (star Jeremy Sisto) and Nina (recurring star Shantel VanSanten) join Forrester and his Fly Team in Italy as they work together to find the missing American and shed light on the terrorists’ U.S. target. 

Part 2 - FBI 

To aid Scola in his undercover mission to find the terrorists believed to be behind the imminent attack in New York City, Maggie calls in Remy (FBI: MOST WANTED series star Dylan McDermott), whose well-connected informant from a prior case may be key to moving the operation forward, in hour two of the three-episode FBIs global crossover event.

Part 3 - FBI Most Wanted 

In the third and final hour of the FBIs global crossover event, the clock ticks as the FBI and FBI: MOST WANTED teams join forces to hunt down the fugitive terrorists as they get closer to carrying out a plot to destroy a major New York City landmark and cause devastating civilian casualties.

4x17 The Miseducation of Metcalf 2 

The team jumps into action to find two missing co-eds after their roommate Carly Cassidy's older brother is involved in a homicide that took place in their dorm room; Hana becomes distracted when she meets someone online. ( Carly Cassidy is played by Dylan’s daughter Colette. )

4x18 Rangeland 

After two agents from the Bureau of Land Management go missing while executing a land seizure warrant in Wyoming, the Fugitive Task Force heads west to track them down in an unwelcoming county; Hana receives a threat.

4x19 Bad Seed 

When a news anchor is shot dead in the station's parking lot, the task force must dive into a story she was working on in order to track down her killer; Remy debates revisiting the case around his brother's murder.

4x20 These Walls 

The witness Remy and Kristen are visiting in prison is put in danger when a riot breaks out, leaving the staff and visitors held hostage by two murderous gangs.

4x21 Clean House 

The team searches for a missing migrant teen they believe was lured into unlawful work by a dangerous man; Remy learns of a previously undisclosed witness in his brother's murder case.

4x22 Heaven Falling 

The team helps Remy try to catch his brother's real killer 25 years after Mikey was murdered.

#fbi most wanted #remy scott #dylan mcdermott #kristin gaines #alexa davalos #remy x kristin #kristin x remy #my gifs #masterlist #restin season 4 #4x01 iron pipeline #4x02 taxman #4x03 succession #4x04 gold diggers #4x05 chains #4x06 patent pending #4x07 karma #4x08 appeal #4x09 processed #4x10 false flag #4x11 crypto wars #4x12 black mirror #4x13 transaction #4x14 wanted america #4x15 double fault #4x16 imminent threat #4x17 miseducation #4x18 rangeland #4x19 bad seed #4x20 these walls

[myeroticstories]

I stated writing the Destiny Awaits Us series way back in 2012. 

Keep Manhattan, Just Give Me That Countryside was based on a very steamy relationship which I had with a beautiful girl from Germany - to whom I was engaged for a spell - for a few years. The jacuzzi fantasy and Victoria’s love of gay male porn was based on my ex Anja’s jacuzzi fantasy and her love of gay male porn.

From Manhattan to Munich was an immediate prequel to KCHIC, and the key characters of Taylor, Angelica, and Victoria were based on real people whom I had a connection with back then. Taylor O’Hare was based on my former friend Taylor, and Angelica Cruz was actually based on Taylor’s real-life ex-girlfriend Angelica. I got the idea for Taylor O’Hare to have a thing for shampoo bottles based on an actual conversation which I had with Angelica.

Kansas City, Here I Come was just a pure smut fantasy which I had about the real Taylor. In fact, the names of Terri and Mindy cooresponded with the real Taylor’s mom (Terri) and aunt (Mindy). I based Mindy’s animosity towards Sean-Paul with the real Mindy’s real-life animosity towards me.

I started the final series (which was originally called Destiny Awaits Us) as the bombastic conclusion to the story. I originally planned for the story to be based around a murder mystery with Sean-Paul’s ex-girlfriend Lanisha killing people close to Sean-Paul with the planned conclusion to be Lanisha to take Taylor hostage and force Sean-Paul to make a hard decision: choose Taylor (with Lanisha getting killed) or choose Lanisha (with Lanisha killing Taylor and Sean-Paul before killing herself. Instead, I decided to turn Lanisha into a brainwashed killer working for international terrorists who bought Sean-Paul’s company just to plant secret source code which would activate all the nuclear warheads in the world and stage global nuclear armageddon. Oh, and the character of Maddy was based on Taylor’s real-life best friend Maddy.

Most of the conspiracy theories presented in the final chapter - MOSSAD agents engaging in secret killings, the Gulf of Tonkin, the 1967 Israeli attack on the USS Liberty, the CIA-orchestrated coup of Mohammed Mossadegh, the assassination of JFK, and the 9/11 terrorist attacks - are conspiracy theories which I used to be huge supporters of. (Yes, I used to be a 9/11 truther.) However, other than 9/11, I continue to be a huge supporter of the other conspiracy theories,

As I finished working on the final part of the series, I shared bits and pieces with my girlfriend, and she was blown away at how creative the story became.

I am proud to say that after 11 years, I have finally finished this epic story of love, loss, betrayal, intrigue, and reunion.

So how will I present this story?

I am considering turning the story into an e-book and allow people to purchase the story. If I had the resources, I would also self-publish this story as a paperback and sell copies for an affordable price.

[sillyrabbit81]

The Instructor - Part 5

Summary: Augusts confronts your betrayal.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader

Word Count: approx 4k

Warnings: Dark, violence, abuse, choking, hitting, punching, orgasm denial, orgasm control, sex (p in v), mdom/fsub, switch, praise kink, degradation kink, name calling, dubious consent. I tried to mention everything if I missed something I sincerely apologise.

Authors Note: FINAL PART. There are probably going to be massive plot holes, sorry about that, this was never meant to be a series, so I didn’t do anywhere near the set up needed. However, I’m glad I did do a series because I enjoyed playing around with some of the darker aspects of the story. If it sucks, I'm sorry, I just went for it and this is what came out! It probably also isn't strictly cannon, but I made use of some aspects of the MI cannon.

Unbeta'd and unedited, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Part 4

The Instructor Part 5

You thought you had felt true fear before this moment, but you were wrong. Confronted with the unyielding stare of August, your stomach twists and your mouth goes dry. You’re completely and utterly fucked.

You try to answer August, make up a believable lie, beg forgiveness, say anything. But you can’t, it’s like he can see into your soul and you know that any lie you tell him will only make him angrier.

Quicker than lightning, August’s hands grip your throat. He pushes you to the wall, uncaring as your head hits it so hard your vision swims. Both his hands push into your neck, compressing your arteries and you feel the blood pooling, building pressure behind your eyes. This wasn’t the subtle choking he engaged in when you played. No, this was Special Agent August Walker trying to kill you.

You are stretched against the wall, your toes barely touch the ground. You are a trained soldier, but August is a trained assassin, you know you won’t last long in a situation like this, you will pass out in less than a minute. Then all August had to do was keep squeezing and you would be dust.

“Why, pet?” August asks through clenched teeth.

You can’t speak, you have no air. You plead to August with your eyes, silently begging him to stop. His hands press harder and you feel him crushing your trachea with his leathal hands. You scratch at his hands, his face, his eyes. You kick with your feet, frantic, feeling yourself get weaker by the second. You get one lucky shot in and for a moment August’s grip falters as he doubles over retching in pain.

You slam the palm of your hand into his forearms and he lets you go. You run for the door, your nudity the last of your concerns. Your throat hurts as you run, bruised and raw, you gulp breath in, coughing you try and fill your lungs again. You reach the door, pull the handle. It stops, not making a full rotation.

“Fuck!” you scream in frustration. You turn the lock and try to open in again. It does and for a brief moment you taste freedom.

A foot kicks the door closed and August is in front of you. You back away from him as he locks it again. In the unlikely event you live through this night, you will never forget the snarl on his face. You look into his eyes, expecting to see the eyes of a killer and August doesn’t disappoint. His azure eyes burn with such murderous intent, for a moment you think you are going to lose control of your bladder.

But there is something else there, something he tries to hide behind his fury. You search his face, trying to see past the mask and find what he is concealing. You wince when you see it. August was hurt. Your betrayal had hurt him.

“This is even more fun than the first time we fucked, Pet,” he says, mockingly. August advances on you with a bullish intent. He is magnificent as he stalks you, his loose pyjama pants hang low on his hips, his chest is taut and his thick ropey arms flex as he readies them for a fight.

You try and think clearly, maybe you should confess everything. He’s going to kill you if you don’t. If only you had long enough to check his records, but you couldn’t put your associates at risk if you weren’t sure.

Lifting your chin, you accept your fate. You ready a fighting stance, and August does too. You understand you can’t beat him, but you won’t die without a fight.

You dodge his first attack, and you’re not surprised that he led with his fists. He only needs one to land and he would break your bones. You retreat to the kitchen, praying its laid out the same as yours. Opening the draw with the knives, you pull one out. It’s not ideal, its weight wasn’t distributed well for fighting, but it was better than nothing. Your gun is in your room and you have no idea where August keeps his.

Turning the tables and going on the offensive, you make August back up and you move to the door. You hold the knife expertly, and as long as you keep August from getting his own weapon, the fight might be a fair one. You have so much adrenaline pumping through your veins you start to shake. The blade accentuates the tremors and August see’s, of course he would find your weakness.

“Put the knife down, Pet,” August orders, his voice was smooth, calm and commanding. You nearly stumble, his words sent shivers down your spine. How can he still have an effect on you? “You know I can’t let you out of here.”

You gage the distance to the door, it was still so far away. Your fear made you want to run to it again, but you knew it would be a mistake. Better to keep advancing slowly, forcing August back.

But August stops retreating and plants himself in front of the door. He stretches his neck, rolls his shoulders, his naked torso hides nothing and you see his muscles ripple under his skin. Your body and mind are in conflict, confused by the stimulus. You’re terrified of August, but fear of him and what he is capable of was part of his appeal, part of his savage, dominant sexuality. Your body can’t tell the difference and you feel it responding, your centre grows warm, throbbing and your arousal moistens the apex of your thighs.

“Please,” you murmur. Confronted with August’s obstruction and his dismissiveness of your threat, you lose hope. You feel weak and exhausted. Again, you contemplate confessing everything, but you aren’t a coward, you were realistic.

The cruel snarl on August’s face becomes a smirk as you plead. “I love hearing you beg, Pet,” he taunts.

He attacks again, this time grabbing a chair from the dining table. You try and duck but he is too fast for you and the solid wood chair cracks you over your head and shoulders. You stumble to the ground; your vision wavers and you nearly pass out. You try and get to your knees, but your arms won’t cooperate and you fall to the floor, no doubt you have a concussion. You look for the knife, see it about a metre away. With your head thumping and your heart racing, you scramble for it, but August reaches you first.

Gripping both your ankles, August uses your legs and body weight against you, flipping you onto your back. He pulls you to him, your skin rubs against the carpet and you howl with pain as you feel the fibres burn your ass and back. August climbs on top of you, his hands are at your throat again, squeezing the life from you.

“You’re killing me, August,” you try and say, but all you hear is your pathetic whimpers. You feebly punch and slap at August, but you are spent. You give up, you tried. You get angry at yourself for even thinking of giving up, but you didn’t know what else to do. You can’t win. Tears well in your eyes and start to roll down your cheeks. You squeeze them shut, ashamed that you cried in your last moments, that you gave up, that you didn’t fight.

The pressure on your throat relaxes, and you gulp in air, coughing and retching as your inflamed throat protests. You try to roll to your side to breath easier, but August doesn’t allow it, his body still traps yours and one hand still grips your throat. You feel his whiskered lips on your cheeks, kissing away your tears. You open your eyes and are consumed by his and the fire that burns within them. You wonder what your eyes are saying to his.

August shifts his hips and you feel him, hard under his thin pants. Your eyes widen, he really had been enjoying the fight. It scares you, feeling how hard and fully erect he his, aroused by trying to kill you. But you knew how hypocritical that was, because even now, terrified, a moment from death, you ache for him.

You roll your hips, sliding your bare, slick slit against August, the fabric of his pants harsh against your clit, but you feel him beneath it, and you can’t stop. You don’t want to but your craving for him was too strong.

If you didn’t know August as well as you did, you may have missed the surprise in his eyes. It came and went so quickly. His lip curled, triumphant, he had you where he wanted you, desperate, without fight left and completely his.

August’s arrogant look, his smug sneer, his complete domination of you made you lose the last shred of dignity you had and you beg for him.

“Please, please,” you whimper.

“You’re such a little whore,” August scolds you. “Do you think you can fuck your way out of this?”

You shake your head, “No.” You cry again, fat tears rolling down your cheeks in a constant stream, but you don’t stop your wanton grinding. You need to feel him inside you.

“Why are you so fucking wet, Pet?” August asks, his jeering tone warmed your face with shame.

“I don’t know!” you cry.

“Yes, you do, Pet.”

You try to turn away and hide from his knowing eyes. August won’t let you, griping your cheeks with his fingers, digging deep, the soft flesh pressing painfully against your teeth. Through your sobs you say, “Because I want you.”

“Beg me,” August’s voice changed, becoming low and hoarse. He starts to move with you, teasing you. “Beg for my cock.”

You don’t try to hold back, the words fall freely, “Please August, please.”

August tuts, “You can do better than that, Pet. Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me, August,” you sob. You’re ashamed of yourself, of how wet you are, how badly you want him, how easily you submit. But it feels too good, playing on the edge as you were, where fear and arousal become interchangeable, you had never felt such bliss.

Taking his pants off, August fists his cock as he takes you in, his gaze rakes over you, lingering on your desperate cunt. Lining himself up, he teases your entrance. When he slides himself over you, he groans as his eyes close and he throws his head back. You realise, you’re not as powerless as you thought, he wants you too and just as badly.

Bringing his head down next to yours, he growls in your ear, “Keep going, Pet. Tell me how badly you want me to fuck your hot little cunt.”

You start mumbling, “Please August, please. I need you.” You throw your arms around him, grip his ass and pull him closer. Your nails dig into his skin as you urge him into you.

With a violent thrust, August enters you. Both of you cry out, your twin shouts echo in each other’s ears. “You feel so good, pet. So wet and so fucking tight.” You mewl under him. He is stretching you, painfully. He offered your core no preparation and it protested his invasion, clamping down hard. August wasn’t fucking around, if he had taken any pity on you in the past, he wasn’t this time. He pumps into you, his pelvis making long driving strokes, your walls straining against the force of his cock, unready for his intrusion.

August hooks your knees over his arms and forcing your legs wider, he is finally sheathed. Increasing his pace, he uses you, furious, punishing and without pity. He offers you no pleasure, he takes what he wants. His face above you is twisted, angry, and hateful. This is payback, revenge, hurt me and I’ll destroy you. But despite that, or maybe because you feel you deserve it, a familiar pressure starts to build between your legs.

“August,” you beg. “I need to cum, please.”

Leaning down, pushing his weight onto your already strained legs, he brings his face to yours. His eyes are dark and sadistic as he says vindictively, “No.”

You groan. You were so close, you don’t know if you can stop it. “Please!” you howl. Fresh tears fill your eyes and you implore him.

“No.” August says, his voice cruel and merciless. “You cum and I’ll fuck your ass raw.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. You try and think of all the parts of your body that hurt. Your head, shoulders, legs, the skin on your back rubbing against the carpet. But it doesn’t work. Your body is so warm, tingling, your skin feels alive and the pain is dull compared to the rapture you feel.

Your body is suddenly wrest from the floor. August withdraws from you and flips you onto your knees and violates you again. You feel August’s hand in your hair and he forces your face into the floor. You heard a thud next to your head, his foot is there, and he continues his assault, kneeling on one leg anchoring himself with the other.

You bite your hand to muffle your shouts, you don’t want to give August the satisfaction of hearing your pain or pleasure. You thought he was deep before, but now you feel every impact in your gut, your core uncomfortably full from his brutal jabs. You can’t stay on your knees, your legs too weak to withstand his punitive thrusts. August doesn’t care. He digs his fingers into your hips, holding you in place as he continues his ruthless assault.

Unable to stop it, you feel your release approach again. You try to deny it, but the savagery of August is too much. The feel of your bodies slaming together, the slapping of his balls against your clit, the sound of his grunts of exertion overwhelm you and you can’t stop yourself from whining, “Please, August. Please. I’m fucking begging you.”

You hear August’s malicious chuckle. “No, Pet.”

August seizes you by the nape, pulling you up to your knees and your back presses against his chest. Wrapping his hand around your neck, he holds you against his shoulder. His other hand moves over your breasts, kneading into them, squeezing them. His face is close to yours, you feel his ragged breath tickle your cheeks.

He starts whispering in your ear and he presses his rough hairy lip into you. “You fucking little bitch,” his voice was low, harsh and dripping with venom, but August can’t stop his desire from seeping through. “Who sent you to me? Who told you to whore yourself for me?” He pinches at your nipples, and you shudder against him writhing. His insults pushing you towards your climax as much as his touch.

“Was it the CIA?” he asks, sliding his hand down your belly to between your legs. Fear makes your heart skip, if he touched you there you would not be able to stop your orgasm. You try and pull away, but he is too strong.

“Did those useless government hacks, turn you into a fucking whore, or did you volunteer, Pet?” He slid his fingers over your slit, and one grazed your clit sending your core pulsing around his cock. You want to tell him he has it all wrong, backwards. He thinks he’s been caught, he doesn’t know he’s being recruited.

He slaps your clit with his palm, a quick flick of his wrists that shocks you and if August wasn’t holding you up, you would have doubled over in pain and ecstasy.

“Don’t fucking cum.” August orders, rubbing a calloused finger over your oversensitive clit. Then, he says, sadly and with regret, “You could have come to me, Pet. Told me. I would have protected you. I could have gotten you out.” His voice almost cracks as he adds, “We could have gotten out together. BE together.”

You want to tell him, you want that too. You didn’t mean to fall for him either, none of this was planned. His fingers dance over your hard nub, coaxing from you the orgasm he forbids. Frustration suddenly pours out of you. You fight him again, punching the arm he had wrapped around your waist, and between your legs.

“Why do you fight so hard, Pet?” he asks. Those simple words he said to you all those months ago rock you. It was his invitation to submit willingly rather than be pulled under by the force of his will. But it was different this time, it wasn’t just you at stake.

You beg again, “August…” It’s all you can say through your short gasping cries. You break out in sweat, the need in you was so strong it took everything you had to fight it.

“Answer my question and you can cum,” He says. You nod, vigorously, you don’t even feel shame at giving in so easily, you’re too far gone. He brings his face in front of yours. Your whole body is shaking under his touch as he draws your orgasm and confession out of you.

“Were you sent by the CIA?”

You shake your head, and whimper, “No.”

August looks into your eyes for a hint of a lie. When he can’t find one, he coos, “Good girl,” and you wriggle at his praise. He kisses you roughly, lips hard against yours. “You can cum now, Pet.”

With unrestrained cries, you finally allow the pressure in your core to grow. You feel your release roll over your contorting body. Your guttural shout signals you’re the arrival of your long denied ecstasy and tears streamed from your eyes as you succumb with immense relief.

August watched every second of your orgasm, his face studying yours as if to memorise every expression, until you were done and can’t hold yourself up anymore. He removes himself with a gentleness that was unexpected and he tenderly carries you to his room. Cradling your head against his chest, he kisses your forehead, muttering something you can’t catch and were too far gone to ask.

He lays you on your side, and you are so malleable and weak, you let him curl you into a ball before he leans over you. He lifts your chin and turns your head so you are looking at him. You give him a half smile, which he returns with a soft hum. His eyes go to your collar and a look of sadness crosses his face, a grief so intense you feel it too.

You don’t know what to say and neither does August. He does the only thing he knows how to do when he feels what some people call love. He fucks.

When August enters you this time it’s different. Although his thrusts are brutal and powerful, it’s not punishment. He is trying to make a connection, to see if there is something salvageable between you. He needs to know if he means anything to you. He drops his forehead onto yours, resting there while his eyes met yours. He holds your throat and his thumb plays with your thin golden collar.

“You’re still mine, Pet,” August says, firmly.

“Always yours,” you reply with certainty. And you were. But by the end of this night he would know he was yours too.

As if to seal the promise you made, August kisses you. His lips pry yours open and his gentle explorative tongue massages yours. When you kiss him back, you are surprised by the growl he makes in his throat. Feeling bold, you place a hand on his cheek as you kiss. He doesn’t pull away so you slide your other hand into his hair and you expect him to shake you off, like he did before. He allows it, and he slides his free arm around you, pulling your bodies together. The rhythm you find together is nothing like the primal fucking you two are used to. It seemed as though he was making love to you, as much as someone like August could.

You feel the warmth grow again and radiate from your core. August instinctively knows your close again and stops your kisses watch you again. “Come for me, my sweet girl,” he utters.

You fall apart. Your fist tightens in his hair, you tremble beneath him, while you call his name.

“Fuck,” he grunts while you fall over the edges, and he forces himself deep within you, splitting you, owning you as you feel him thicken and pulse, releasing his seed into your milking core. Then he breaks you by growling your name as he makes his final throes.

You’re both slick with sweat, but August doesn’t care and he brushes your face with kisses. He looks like he wants to say something, opening his mouth and closing it again without saying a word. He helps you get up and he walks you to his bathroom.

August runs you a bath, and he sits on the edge for a while, watches you while you bathe. He showers quickly before returning to his spot.

Finally, he speaks, but he looks away as he says it, and for the first time you see August doubt himself, “If not the Agency, then who?” He asks.

“We have no government affiliation,” you say.

He nods, “Why did they send you, was the plan always to use sex?”

“No, August,” you say honestly. “This was not part of the plan. I was only supposed to be assigned to you while I did my training. This assignment was last minute, I don’t even know how it happened.”

He turns his attention back to you and looks for the lie he believes he will find. When he doesn’t find it he asks, “Your aunt, was that a lie?”

“She’s officially missing,” you say. “Unofficially, she brought me into group.”

“Something doesn’t add up, Pet,” August says. “I’m don’t know anything that a hundred other agents don’t also know. What did they send you to find out?”

“You don’t get it. We don’t want to bring you down, we want to recruit you. I had to make sure you are who we think you are.”

You see a glimpse of understanding in August’s eyes. “Go on,” he prompts.

You watch him carefully as you explain, “My assignment was to find out if you were the one who wrote a certain manifesto making the rounds in certain circles.” He doesn’t blink. You smirk, realising he’s trying too hard to keep his face smooth. He is the one.

“And, am I?” he asks.

“You are,” you say moving down the bath. Unbelievably, knowing he wrote that poetic and chaotic brilliance made you hot again. “This operation is all wrong, too big for simple arms traders. You’re using the CIA to get the connections and resources you need.” You run your finger down August’s bare arm, tracing the ridges of his muscles and the slight protruding veins on his forearms. August watches you intently, trying to appear cold, but you see his breaths grow shallow and his jaw clench. “We have the resources to help a man like you,” You reach his hand, turn it palm up, and lay a kiss into it before holding it to your cheek. “’A man with vision’ Lane calls you.”

“Lane?” August says, he seems confused, and he should be.

“Yes, meet with Solomon Lane and you will get your new world August.” You take his hand off your cheek and fold down his fingers except for the middle one. You take him in your mouth curling your tongue around him, and sucking.

August can’t look away. Already thrown by being discovered, he is completely transfixed by your sudden seduction.

“How?” he breathes.

You open your mouth and show August his finger sliding down your tongue. You get out of the bath and stand in front of August. You move his finger down your body, between your breasts, over your belly and between your thighs. You slide his finger between your warm folds and you hear August groan as you rest him against your entrance.

You ask him, “Have you, ever heard of the Syndicate, Pet?”

End

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[systlinsideblog]

Part 8

The mansion of Saphrar of Turia was, in fact, very beautiful. It was also built like a fortress; the merchant was, it seemed, very paranoid in addition to being very rich. Quietly, Systlin approved, but right now it was an annoyance.

“We think we’ve picked off most of his archers,” one of the women said as Systlin arrived. Systlin looked the compound over, narrow eyed. There were bodies draped over a few of the crenelations around the enclosing wall, arrows sticking from them. “But we’ve not siege equipment strong enough to break open the gates.”

“Of course.” Systlin cracked her knuckles and rolled her neck again; fighting for the day, then, was not quite through. She eyed the gates; they were smaller, of course, than the gates of the city.

For good measure, she took out the whole front wall. A few hidden archers did fall screaming with the dust and gravel of the broken wall. As the dust cleared, she spotted the front door of the mansion proper and Broke that as well. A group of horrified mercenaries in the front garden watched the wall crumble, and then quite meekly laid their weapons down and knelt, raising their hands in surrender.

“Finally.” Systlin said. “Some people with a little sense. Bind them, and take them to the Ubara’s mansion.” A pause. “And after this, someone ought to show me to the Ubara’s mansion. I could use a bath, I think.”

That drew a laugh from the warriors around her. She drew her weapons, and led the women into the house.

They were met by some delighted slave girls; when they spotted Systlin they cried out in joy, and one rushed forward and took her by the hand.

“This way!” She tugged. “This way, Mistress! Our master is hiding, but I know where he is!”

Systlin followed. Followed through a hall, down some stairs, down more, her warriors close behind. House slaves parted before them, and some women peeled off to remove their collars and chains. A delighted murmur followed them down to the cellars.

They found Saphrar of Turia hiding in a hidden cubbyhole under a flagstone that moved on a cunning little mechanism. He cringed when Systlin pulled it open; she made a disgusted noised, bent down, grabbed him by the collar of his robe, and hauled him out through mean strength.

“And how well did that work for you?” She said shortly. “Hiding like a rat, behind hired swords?”

Even as she spoke, he twisted, and snapped. Even as she pulled away, his teeth sank into the back of her wrist. She buried her knee in his gut and he let loose, wheezing, but grinning through a mouthful of her blood.

“Well!” He croaked. “Quite well! Because where all of the warriors of the city failed, where the Wagon people failed, I’ve succeeded! Enjoy, she-sleen!”

“Fuck.” Systlin muttered. “Shit.” She slammed an arm out even as her warriors lunged forward. “ALIVE. Keep him alive.”

“So I can give you the antidote?” Saphrar crowed, gleeful. He had, Systlin saw, two false teeth shaped like fangs, gleaming gold. “I won’t! You can torture and kill me, I won’t!”

Systlin licked the blood welling from the marks his hidden fangs had left. There, a bitter note. She rolled it over her tongue as she’d been taught in the Iron Mountain so long ago, opening her mouth slightly to smell as well. Faint subtle scents and tastes, the combinations of them…

“Fuck,” she said again, picking notes out.

“Ubara!” Her warriors had Saphrar by the throat, and Dina was clutching at Systlin’s arm, frantic. “Osk venom! Some merchants use it, fangs like that are popular…a physician! Get a physician! Get the Ubar!

Several women left at a dead sprint.

Systlin gently but insistently shook Dina’s hand off, and she went for her belt pouch. Saphrar was still cackling, even through the arm around his neck.

“Fifteen thousand of the warrior caste, dead!” He said, gleeful. “A whole High Caste gone, failed, and a lowly merchant kills the beast!” He dissolved into more laughter.

“Ubara! If it spreads…”

“It already is.” She could feel the pain beginning as she fished a tiny packet, neatly wrapped in waxed rag paper and tied with thread, out of her pouch. She carefully undid the thread, and opened it to reveal a white powder. She licked the tip of a finger, dipped it into the powder, and then licked the powder off and made a terrible face as she pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth; the stuff was terribly bitter as it dissolved through the thin tissues of the mouth. She re-wrapped the powder, and handed the packet to Dina.

“Ubara?” Dina’s voice was near panic.

“That packet,” Systlin said, deliberately calm. “Is my life, Dina. Give it to no one else. Do you understand? No one. This is my life, in this packet, and I’m trusting it to you.”

“I…” A hard swallow. “Yes, Ubara, but…”

“I am a Queen…you call it Ubara here, but I am a Queen on my own world as well, and have enemies. I trained with assassins before that. Listen, no, listen. In the Iron Mountain I have trained to tolerate many poisons and venoms better than most, and that should help, but I am going to be very sick very shortly. I know, I think, what this Osk venom is, or at least what makes it deadly. That,” a nod at the packet, “will counteract the effects enough to keep me alive while it runs its course. I will not be able to give it to myself. If my breathing looks like it is near stopping, give me as much as I just took, no more. What will stick to a single wetted fingertip. Too much will kill me. I do not need to swallow. Place it under my tongue, rub it on my gums, inside my nose. Do you understand?”

Dina was white. All her women were white. But Dina nodded, once, her lips thin and trembling and terror written all over her face.

“Good.” Systlin took a deep breath; sure enough, it was more difficult than it had been minutes ago. “And keep him alive.” She nodded at Saphrar. “I want to see his face when I don’t die.” A beat. “If I do die, give him to Foicatch.”

“Ubara.” Dina’s voice was thin. “Yes.”

“Good.” Systlin said, and then swayed, and quickly sat heavily down on a crate. She could feel the cold sweat breaking out; she doubted that most of her warrior women had seen her sweat before. She was, after all, a fire witch, and the hottest of days was no bother to her.

It was good, though. The symptoms were telling her that she’d been right, and even as her breathing grew more labored she felt the tingling rush of the compounds distilled into the rescue powder hit. Breathing eased slightly. The dizziness did not. There was a roaring in her ears, and vision blurred. She pitched to the side, and hands caught her.

The room swam. Things were happening around her very rapidly; she could hear them, but picking out meaning would have taken too much concentration. Her fingers were tingling, and her wrist was burning. Her breaths came hard and labored, but she kept breathing.

A familiar face, a familiar voice. Foicatch, sounding near panic. She tried to raise a hand to his face, but her limbs weren’t responding. She was lifted onto something…a stretcher?...and moved.

Time passing. Movement; she was being carried somewhere. Nausea, and her vision was just a blur of colors. Movement stopped; she was laid on something soft. Time passing. Hands on her, a prick of pain in her arm, more time passing. Her breaths started to rasp and struggle, and she wondered…but there! The bitterness of the rescue powder in her mouth, and soon breathing eased again. Not by too much, but enough for her to keep forcing air in and out. People speaking, hurried and frantic. Someone else, calmer. She felt hands easing away armor and boots and weapons. She wanted to protest, but hadn’t the strength.

A warm, wet cloth. Someone was cleaning away mud and blood. She knew the hands. Foicatch. Someone else. A woman? Of course a woman…

Sura hadn’t wanted her to go to the Iron Mountain. Systlin, with her father’s murder hanging before her eyes, had disregarded Sura’s advice for the first time, and gone anyway. The Master of Knives had welcomed her, tried to bend her to his will like he’d bent others. His gift for pushing at minds was rare, and terrible, as terrible as Breaking in its own way. She’d managed to shunt aside his power with her own, undoing it before it could bend her to him. She’d pretended that it had taken, and he’d set her to train.

What a prize, she’d heard him say once. A Breaker, at my feet. What a Hand I shall make of you. The world will tremble.

She remembered his blood on her hands, after she’d slit his throat at last. You took the contract for my father, she’d told him, as he bled out on the floor. You sent your Hand. That’s why I came, to kill his killers…

The bitterness of rescue powder in her mouth, again. Her face was numb, and her hands still tingled. Her head was pounding like a drum.

Snake venom in vials, lined up. Tasting each, carefully, picking out what snake it was from by taste and scent alone and reciting how it killed. She’d drunk snake wine before, but tasting the pure venom was another thing entirely…

Bitterness in her mouth. Voices. Her hand was in someone else’s; she would have known Foicatch if she were dead. His voice, worried. She was lying on something soft.

She’d been good at it, though. It had interested her. She’d memorized them, and the plant poisons, and the mineral. She’d memorized which of the little packets they all carried for emergencies could help the body fight each…

Bitter in her mouth. She blinked, slow, and thought that things might be a little more in focus. Her breaths were still coming harsh and difficult, but she tried to move her hands and her fingers twitched. She would have smiled, were her face not still numb.

The weeks of terrible sickness, as each of the poisons was administered in turn, in gradually increasing doses. They each were expected to endure a lethal dose of each poison in time. She’d passed that test, as the others, but she remembered little of it. Just pain, sickness, heaving though her stomach was empty. A headache like her head was pressed in a vice, that had lasted days.

Bitter in her mouth. She could feel her hands again, and this time another dose didn’t come, because her breath, instead of stuttering and slowing, came stronger. Her vision cleared, slowly, and her headache receded. She lay there, eyes closed, concentrating on her breath, until at last she did not have to fight for it any longer. It took what felt like hours.

She opened her eyes.

She was in an enormous bedroom, on a bed. She was nearly naked under the blankets, save for a light wrap robe someone had found. She was clean. Her hair had been combed and washed and re-braided. Ice and her knife and her armor sat next to her; they’d been cleaned as well.

Foicatch was sitting next to her, slumped back in exhaustion in a chair. He’d at least consented to remove his armor; he was wearing a long tunic that was too tight across his shoulders, and had at least scrubbed a wet cloth over his body and through his hair. Dina sat on the floor before the fire, distractedly cleaning her already spotless knife. As Systlin moved, Foicatch’s eyes shot open, and he sat up. The relief in his eyes was almost painful.

“Thank the Lady’s mercy.” He said, quietly and with feeling, and kissed the back of her hand. “You scared me.”

“When we see Sura next,” Systlin said, her voice still raspy from a dry throat. “I’m going to tell her that I was right about going through the training and not just dragging the whole bloody mountain down on his head. How long…”

A watery sort of chuckle. “Oh, she’ll hate it. Two days. Rumors are running wild, but everything’s under control.”

Dina approached warily, and very carefully set the tightly wrapped packet of powder on the bed beside her.

“She wouldn’t give it up even to me.” Foicatch said.

“She was right not to. If you gave me a dose the size of your fingertip, it would have been enough to kill me. Dina’s got smaller hands.” She hauled herself up into a sitting position. Her wrist still hurt, and was still red and swollen, but the worst of it was past.

“You told me it was your life.” Dina whispered.

“It was.” Systlin took it carefully, and set it on top of her neatly piled gear. “I owe you my life, Dina of Turia. If there is anything in my power to give, it’s yours.”

Dina trembled a little, and Systlin realized that she was crying silently. She realized suddenly what it must have been for Dina, for all of her people here, to see her fall. To see hope itself lying like death on a bed, struggling for each breath. To feel the prospect of chains looming again…

No. She’d taught them enough. Even without her now, she did not think any of the slaves she’d freed would ever be forced into them again. She’d started enough; it might take long, without her, but she’d planted the seeds. She saw suddenly, in a dizzying rush, warriors from the plains spreading out, bringing low the fighting men and freeing the slaves from one city-state after another, a steady march clear across Gor, and all done through sweat and courage and blood alone.

Centuries, it might take. But it would have happened, even had she died in this bed.

Though, as she thought on it, she wondered what would happen, should her body expire. And then she realized, quite suddenly, that she’d thought of them as her people.

You already know the answer there, sister. The whisper in her mind was familiar by now. You cannot kill a goddess of death with poison.

“Ubara sana,” Dina said quietly. “There is nothing I would ask that you have not already given me. You owe me nothing; you already gave me back my life.”

“The offer stands.” Systlin said. “If ever there is something in my power to give you, say the word and it is yours.”

Dina gave her a look that was half frightened, half wondering, and quite suddenly she leaned down and kissed her full on the mouth. Systlin froze in surprise, and Dina pulled back as if burned, nearly cringing in a way she’d not done in more than a year.

“I’m sorry!” She gasped, and there were more tears streaming down her face now. Systlin stared, almost bemused; that she hadn’t seen it before was astounding, really. “I’m sorry! Ubar…”

Foicatch was also staring in a rather bemused way. “Well,” he said. “It’s not like I can fault you in your tastes.”

“Dina?” Systlin’s throat was as dry as sand already, and still sore, and it sounded like a croak more than a voice. “I…sorry, water…”

Foicatch picked a cup up from the table beside the bed. A gesture, and water appeared as he pulled moisture out of the air. It trickled into the cup, and she drank greedily.

“You should have said something.” She said at last, handing the wooden cup back. Foicatch filled it again.

Dina was still looking faintly terrified, as if she’d overstepped somehow. “I…but…” she gestured weakly at Foicatch.

“You’d not be the first woman in her bed.” Foicatch shrugged, handing the cup back to Systlin and watching as she drained it as well. “I’ve had other men and women in mine as well.”

“He’s terrible taste in men.” Systlin narrowed her eyes. “Downright awful. That miserable little Cabot man? Really?”

“He’s attractive. And it’s been amusing to watch him panic over things.” He filled the cup a third time. “Sucks a mean cock, once he finally works past all the nonsense about shame and his manliness, but then goes maudlin and sulks for a week. Still, a fun enough diversion.”

“Sounds dreadful. This is what I mean. Awful taste in men.”

“I don’t…” Dina looked slightly faint. “I don’t understand.”

Foicatch shrugged. “Few people do, to be fair.”

“What it means, is that this,” Systlin caught Dina’s hand and pulled her back. She watched the other woman’s lovely face slowly go from confusion to hope to disbelief as she kissed the inside of one of Dina’s wrists. “Will not anger him. The fact that he takes other lovers now and then does not anger me. Though,” She sat up too fast, and her head was spinning again. She grimaced and lay back again. “It may have to wait.”

“Ubara sana,” Dina said, even more faintly. “I think that I can wait.”

“Good.” Systlin took a breath, and hauled herself upright again. Her head spun still; she gritted her teeth and rode it out, and the lingering nausea. “For now, I need clothes.”

“Ubara!”

“I need to be seen.” Systlin said simply, and got her feet under her. Foicatch offered an arm; she leaned on it. “I’m all right, Dina. I’m a tough bitch to kill.”

“I…”

The door opened then, and a woman in green robes swept in. She had olive skin and very black hair, braided and pinned up in a coil on top of her head. She carried a case, and when she saw Systlin on her feet her face lightened from its cool professionalism.

“Oh, excellent.” She said. “You’re back with us.”

“This is Zephra.” Foicatch said. “A physician. She’s been checking on you. Dina?”

“Of course.” Dina hurried out.

“You really shouldn’t be on your feet.” The woman said, severely. Systlin was reminded instantly of Myssa, the royal True Healer and Physik. “Though I suppose you must be seen as soon as possible. Sit for a moment.”

Systlin did. It never did any good to argue with physicians or healers. Zephra laid a hand on her forehead, checked her pulse, listened to her breathing, and at last made a sound of approval. She drew a stylus and pad out of her bag, and began making notes.

“You’ll live.” She said. “That powder of yours is ingenious; I managed to get a tiny bit from your devoted guard to analyze. It is, in truth, very similar to what I would have given you, and I did not wish to cause an interaction with what you had already taken, so I thought it best to leave your girl to it. If it had truly come to it, I did have an apparatus ready to breathe for you.” She nodded to the corner; Systlin looked, and saw a great cylinder of glass and copper and leather. “But you did not react so strongly to the Osk venom as most would. I am glad to see you recovering.” She examined Systlin thoughtfully, tapping the stylus against her lips. “You’ve survived other things that you should not have, judging from your scars.”

Systlin touched the scar under her right breast with a wince. A spear had transfixed her there once, long ago, piercing clean through. “True enough.”

“The physicians of your world are skilled indeed, if they can mend such injuries.” Zephra said bluntly. “I could not do it. Neither could a doctor of Earth.”

“True-healers.” Foicatch said. “They can repair flesh with a touch, as I can command water and Systlin can command fire and Break.”

Zephra’s eyebrows rose. “That,” she said softly. “Would be a gift worth having.”

“It’s rare. Those who have it are held in high regard.”

“I was lucky.” Systlin touched the scar again. “It was a spear. I should have died there, but there was a True-Healer nearby. I got very lucky.”

Foicatch’s hand tightened on her shoulder for a moment.

“Well.” Zephra hummed quietly. “I suspect that this will only add to the growing legends that are being spread around. Before you arrived at the city, we had heard that you were a terrible spirit who ate the flesh of men.” A spark of humor in her dark eyes.

Systlin made a face. “Only half true.”

A laugh. “I have never seen,” she said. “Men so frightened as they are now. Not all of them, of course; there are good ones to be found.” She tapped her stylus against her lips again. “It does my heart good.” The smile turned bitter. “If you’ll have my service, Ubara, I would give it, wherever you go.”

Foicatch and Systlin both looked at her oddly.

“Ah, yes. You likely do not know…I am a free woman, of a high caste. I was able to study, and am able to ply my trade. Most free women are not allowed such, did you know? A free woman of the metalworker caste does not work at the forge; a woman of the scribe caste may be illiterate.” The smile grew more bitter still. “Our options are to inherit wealth to live well, or to Companion a man of means and bear his children. I was lucky, Ubara Sana, in that I showed aptitude as a physician and was accepted into the caste. Even still, I was not allowed to do the work I studied and trained for. Not until I had Companioned a man of the physician caste and borne him two children.”

Systlin stared. Foicatch said, flatly, “What.”

“My daughters,” Zaphra continued, “Are dear to me. But I did not renew my Companionship with their father, and had I a choice I would not have taken their father to bed or borne them. I wished only to work as I had trained to do. I am what is called ‘frigid’ by the men of Gor; I have never felt desire for anyone. Unlike what many suppose, this is not an affliction. Many people are born thus, and forced to conceal it. My male colleagues scoff at the idea, and insist that it is an aberration that could be remedied by a proper man, and perhaps some slave chains.” She put her stylus and pad away, businesslike. “As if the only ones born thus are women. Free women of Gor are not free, not truly, even if a collar is never set on us. I think that with you that may change, and my daughters may taste freedom in truth. It is at the least a better chance than any we’ve had before.”

“Ah.” Systlin tested her balance again; it was better. She gently eased off of leaning on Foicatch, even as Dina reappeared with robes. “I see.”

“I thought you might, given what I had heard of you from your women.”

“If you wish it, I accept your offer.” Systlin let Dina help her shrug into the robes. The other woman also wrapped Systlin’s braid around her head like a crown and deftly pinned it into place.

“I am honored, Ubara sana.” Zaphra inclined her head.

“Right.” Systlin took up her sword belt, and buckled it into place over her silken robes. “Dina, where are the warriors?”

“Many are in the camp. More have taken over the guard houses. Many have bedded down on the lower floors of this mansion.” Dina looked at her. “They’re taking turns here, because not all of us could fit in the Ubara’s mansion. Your honor guard stays, of course, but the rest have set up rotating shifts, so that they could all guard you for a time.”

Systlin blinked, and felt her throat tighten and heat in her eyes. “Have they.”

“I’ve told you many times.” Foicatch said, softly. “You’ve never had any idea what it’s like, from the outside.”

“You are the Whip-Burner.” Dina said, as if it were simple and obvious. “The Chain-Striker. They’ve been burning slave couches in bonfires for two days, in your name. The courts have already been set up, and the judging has already begun. Those sentenced to die are being burnt on the couches they chained us to.”

Systlin closed her eyes, and that other power she did not like to think of or acknowledge stirred. And for a moment she could taste it on the air, like honeyed wine. Justice.

For a moment, just a moment, she could feel rather than hear twenty thousand mentions of her name, and it ran through her like ice and fire at once.

“Good.” She managed. “Well done.”

“The next time you wonder why any of us,” Systlin knew Foicatch was not talking about the people of Gor, but of their true home. “Are willing to follow you to the death, I’m reminding you of this.”

“Smug prick,” she muttered, because the last time she’d said that aloud and he’d looked at her funny and told her that she’d earned it, she’d laughed.

“Yes.” He agreed easily. “Now, here.”

He opened the drawer on the bedside table, and drew out a golden hairpin. At the top glimmered a red stone. Systlin took it, and looked; it was a star ruby, larger than her thumbnail. She looked up at him, stunned, and he smiled.

“There’s a great deal of wealth in the vaults of the Ubara of Turia.” He said. “Aside from that in the chests of the Ubara Sana of the plains. I set a few people to combing through with orders as to what to find.”

He took it back and slid it into place in her hair, so that the ruby gleamed just above the center of her forehead. “It might not be the Fallen’s Blood, but I thought it fitting.”

“I take it back. You’re not a prick.”

“Still smug?”

“Yes, but I like that about you.” She touched the stone to make sure it was secure. “Come now. People need to know I’m not dead.”

[passable-talent]

part 2 for the sith reader plleeeaasee????? im loving it

part one here

I’m aware of the memability of the youngling massacre and i know i promised to not make reader/anakin redeemable but,,, im gonna do it anyway. strategically it doesnt make sense to murder the next generation and also reader is constantly trying to make anakin believe they’re doing the right thing. reader doesn’t have the luxury of saying ‘do it or padme dies’. they’ve got to be smarter than palpatine was. 

Good news: you’re a Sith Lord. Palpatine is gone. Anakin’s on your side. Also, he loves you, that’s good. 

Bad news: you now have so much more on your plate. You’ve got to activate the clones to kill the Jedi, give a speech before the Senate, accompany Anakin to Mustafar to get rid of the Separatists, there was just so much to do, and in so little time. 

So, no matter how you wished to stay in his embrace forever, you pulled from Anakin’s arms, brushing back his hair sweetly. 

“Love, we need to start moving against the Jedi,” you said softly, righting his very disheveled robes. “You have to go to the temple. I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”

“I can’t kill any Jedi,” he said, breaking your gaze. In response you hugged him tightly, comfortingly. You’d known he would worry about that.

“I know, I know, I’m not asking you to.” His loyalty to you was strong, but you knew it was not yet unbreakable. “The Younglings- they can be saved. I’ll take care of the Jedi, but you need to make sure they’re safe.” He nodded, fixing the last few details of his tousled robes, and kissed you one last time before he left the room.

Which left you alone, with your thoughts, and some very knotted hair. 

It took a moment to clean yourself up as well, but soon enough you could take a seat at Palpatine’s desk, calling up the communications you’d seen under his fingers a thousand times. The Clones’ slave chips would take over their will the moment you gave the order, and you bit your lip for a moment, wishing you could be there in person to see it all. But you had something much more important to do with your time. 

You pulled your hood over your head and opened your communications to all of the Clone Squadron Leaders. 

“Execute Order Sixty Six,” you said, and the words burned on your tongue. 

You didn’t really have time to waste, you see. You had to meet Anakin at the temple, ‘find’ the evidence you’d plant, rush back to the Senate, then make it to Mustafar. You had a very full schedule for the afternoon, and yet- you couldn’t help it. 

You leaned back in the chair, closed your eyes, and opened yourself to the Force. You reached out across the galaxy, feeling into the light, and the dark. Through it, you felt a thousand Jedi dying. And nothing, well, almost nothing, had ever felt so good. 

The Jedi Killer, you’d been, in the Clone Wars. And though the generation of them did not die by your saber, it was your order, your decision, your words, that had brought them down. You weren’t just a killer. You were a crusader. 

Once you’d gotten your breath back, you pulled up a different communication, one wired to a meeting hall on Mustafar, full of people you despised. Nute Gunray, Shu Mai, truly awful people. People who had come to power, and did nothing with it but collect wealth. Disgusting, truly- when one comes to power, they’re meant to wield it, just as you were. But these people only cared about their trade, their capitalism. Pitiful.

“Viceroy,” you said with a dark smile, eyes hidden beneath your cloak. 

“Lord Errar,” Nute acknowledged you with a bit of surprise in his voice, “Where is Lord Sidious?” 

“He has just a bit to take care of in the Senate,” you said with a wicked smile. Nothing made your soul spark like a well-crafted lie. “Once that’s taken care of, I will pay you a visit, to give you your reward for your help. When the night is over, my friends, you’ll be left in peace.” Giving them no time to ask questions, you closed the communication, delivering your last word to an empty office. 

“Pieces.” 

The last thing you needed to do before you left was nice and easy- the press of a button. Hidden away in the far corner of the Chancellor’s desk was a button meant only for emergencies, which is certainly why you used it now, of course. The death of the chancellor was an emergency, wasn’t it?

You called a senate meeting. 

Once that was done, you knew you had only an hour before the senators would be expecting you, so you found your saber and hurried to your speeder. It didn’t take long to get to the Temple, where you had sent Anakin. He had rescued the younglings from their training, in the midst of the battlegrounds that the Temple had become, and gotten them away to their chambers, in the care of droids. He met you in the center of the temple, Jedi and Clones alike scattered around the floor. So caught up in his mission, he hadn’t noticed how long you’d been at the temple, working your way through the files. 

“I told them that I’d come back when it was safe,” he said, “The droids will take care of them.” 

“Good,” you breathed, giving him a quick kiss under the ear. You took his hand, and slowly tugged him toward the communications center of the temple. “I have to show you something.” You pulled up the files you’d been painstakingly preparing for months, crafting them, ensuring they looked as though they were written by Jedi fingers.

On them were plans from the other side of the Clone Wars, supporting the Separatists. They held details about the destruction of the Senate, the assassination of the Chancellor, without even knowing he was a Sith. And of course, your magnum opus, the most perfect thing you could’ve included- the passage that described how the Jedi would allow the Dark Side of the Force, the Sith, to rise in power so that the Jedi could shift the blame for the war to the Sith. This, you knew, would hurt Anakin most of all- that the Jedi had completely ignored their duty to fight the Dark. 

“I just don’t understand,” you said softly, shaking your head, darkness pulsing deep in your chest with a beautiful, well-crafted lie. “I thought- I thought that Sidious was behind the war. But even he was being manipulated by the Jedi, he was going to be gotten rid of so that the Jedi could control the Senate.” Anakin couldn’t look away from the holograms. 

“Anakin, I’m so sorry,” you breathed, lacing your arms around the closest of his, hoping to give him even the slightest comfort, as he accepted that the people who’d raised and trained him were so evil. Apparently.

“There’s some good news, though,” you said, motioning to one of the holograms, “We now know where the Separatist leaders are. You and I- we can go...” you paused, seeming to stumble to find the proper word. “...Remove them.” Finally breaking his eyes away from the holo, he nodded, pulling you just a bit closer. 

You kissed his cheek, giving him a moment to grieve.

“I should inform the Senate,” you said, “They’ve never met me, but I was the Chancellor’s apprentice. They’ll respect me.” His flesh hand came to your face, and you leaned into it, closing your eyes for the briefest of moments to drown in his affection. 

“Be careful,” he told you, and you nodded.

“Can you-” you said, shaking your head briefly, trying to be gentle with him. “Come with me, please. I don’t want you to stay here by yourself.” He nodded, and together you walked to your speeder, taking it to the Senate hall. 

And this- this was to be your masterpiece. 

“Senators-” you began, aligning your shoulders in a way that had you looking powerful enough to command their attention, but nervous enough they wouldn’t suspect you for foul play. “I’m afraid I have some very disturbing news for you.” 

"I was an apprentice to the late Chancellor Palpatine, a gifted and respected leader who guided our republic through the first war in generations. I’m saddened to inform you, though, that this war was not what you’ve been told.” Whispers rippled through the senate’s hall.

“The Jedi, to whom this Senate entrusted the peace of the galaxy, had given power to the Separatists, in order to stir up the war. Earlier this very day, four Jedi masters ambushed myself and the Chancellor in his office...” you trailed away, bringing up emotion to stir their sympathy.

“I only escaped thanks to one young Jedi who still represents what the Jedi Order was meant to. The Chancellor was not so lucky.” You felt it as grief rolled through the room, and fought away a smile. They believed your every word- of course they did.

“On the battlefields, the horror of the Jedi and their plans were realized, and many of them were executed for crimes against the republic, following the Chancellor’s dying wishes. His other...” You shook your head, as though disbelieving what you were about to propose. 

“His other wish on his deathbed was that I carry on his work. That I guide the Republic into a future of peace.” The energy in the room shifted, but not toward the negative. No, they trusted you. They were considering giving your former mentor’s power to you. They just needed a little more. 

“I know you’ve never seen me before, you have no reason to trust me. I implore you, honorable senate, to believe me. I will see it that this Republic is capable of recognizing traitors, as the Jedi had become. I will see to it that the remaining traitorous Jedi are hunted down and executed. I promise to lead this Senate into the future!” 

The cheer went up. 

“I vote to reorganize the Republic, into something stronger, more powerful, more capable of destroying threats to the peace!” 

The energy was beautiful, lifting you to levels of bliss you had never felt before. You were to be the most powerful Sith there had ever been, controlling the Senate, the Republic, the Sith, the Jedi. 

The Republic. Such a name didn’t have quite the ring you wanted. You were to be, what, Chancellor? No, no, that wouldn’t do. 

“Together, we will create the first Galactic Empire- a beacon of hope for the galaxy, the strongest protector of the peace that the galaxy has ever seen!” 

Emperor. Now that was a title you were proud to carry. 

“We have to hurry,” you told Anakin as you strode from the meeting hall, “The Separatists might hear word that we know their location. We’ve got to get to them before they move.” 

They hadn’t- they waited, like the proper pawns they were, for the reward you had promised them. Such a reward came in one of two forms:

Anakin’s saber, or yours. 

You had planned out everything that would happen this day, everywhere you would go, every bit of it. You knew every step, and were never caught off guard. 

Until you discovered Obi-Wan Kenobi waiting outside of your ship.

You had to make a decision fast- how you were going to play this. Obi-Wan was a talented Jedi, and possibly the one person who you’d be incapable of manipulating, thanks to that strong Jedi code. He was also the only person who Anakin might be loyal to, over you. 

So, you let Anakin have his reunion, as though you hadn’t even noticed Obi-Wan. 

You stayed close, but you hadn’t thought to make Anakin realize he’d have to stand opposed to Obi-Wan, so you had to wait for the proper moment to interject yourself. 

“Anakin, are you alright? There’s been so much happening- I was so worried.” You knew Obi-Wan had noticed you, but for all of Obi-Wan’s faults, at least he knew that you were no threat to Anakin. 

“I’m fine,” Anakin told him, and you recognized what he was feeling- he was pushing away his emotions, as the Jedi Order had always told him to. 

“Master Yoda has lost contact with Master Windu- we don’t know what happened. Do you?” 

And there it was. The moment you’d been waiting for.

“Stop,” you groaned, crossing your arms. “You know exactly what Windu was doing. You know exactly where he was today.” You stepped forward, putting yourself almost between Obi-Wan and Anakin. 

“No,” Obi-Wan said, astonished by your presence. He’d known you were there, but something about you now almost reminded him that you were barely an adult, just like Anakin. “No, sith apprentice, I don’t know what happened.” 

“That’s a lie!” you shouted, not yet bringing up your saber. You put your arm in front of Anakin, as though protecting him from Obi-Wan. “You’re done lying to him!”

“Excuse me?”

“Mace Windu along with three other Jedi masters were sent to murder the Chancellor of the Republic so that the Jedi could assume control! Anakin and I found the plans in the Jedi temple ourselves!” Obi-Wan’s expression fell, and he didn’t look away from you.

“What are you talking about?” 

You shared a glance with Anakin, and suddenly, you had an idea. 

“They didn’t even tell you?” You whispered, turning your gaze to the floor as though you were considering. You were, though, honestly- there was no reason why this needed to end with Obi-Wan dead, not if you could reel him in just as cleanly as you did Anakin. And if you failed, then to Anakin it would feel incredibly genuine that Obi-Wan would need to die, ensuring his loyalty either way.

You brought your gaze to Anakin’s, and offered him the slightest pitiful smile.

“Maybe he can be trusted,” you said, offering him the hope that his master was redeemable. Lifting your chin as though gathering your wits, you turned to Obi-Wan, something under your ribcage sparking again with the love of a good plan seeing itself through. 

“I’m sorry to tell you this, Master, but the Jedi had been plotting the death of Chancellor Palpatine, and once he was gone, they were going to assume control of the Senate. Your masters have been behind this war, all along. It’s all very-” You shook your head. “Despicable.” 

“It can’t be true,” Obi-Wan said, his voice stealing air from his lungs, his chest seeming to deflate, and this couldn’t have possibly worked out better. 

“We found the plans, in the Temple,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan looked at his former Padawan. 

“I assure you, Master,” you said, lowering your head, “I just want the galaxy in peace. I know you aren’t inclined to believe me, I understand...” It occurred to you that if he knew the whole of the story, he might be swayed toward you.

“Anakin and I are a Dyad,” you told him, and Anakin’s entire presence in the Force pulsed with surprise. “I always thought that it meant we were destined to be enemies, but I guess the future is harder to predict than that.” Obi-Wan studied you briefly, looking over your face, trying to find any hint of dishonesty. He underestimated you- you breathed dishonesty, it was in your bloodstream. Why would he be able to see it on you?

“You are a sith, are you not?” Obi-Wan asked, presumably weighing whether or not he could trust you. 

“I was abandoned by my master, because of how I felt for Anakin,” you told him, and none of it was a flat lie. That was your specialty- you were surprisingly honest, if one listened with a close enough ear. You reached out to take Anakin’s hand, an unabashed show of affection that felt quite teenaged. “I just want him to be safe.”

“If I can trust you, (Y/N), which I’m not sure I can,” Obi-Wan said, “I’ll help restore the galaxy in every way I can.” 

-🦌 Roe

part 3

#reader insert #angst #sith!reader #anakin x reader insert #star wars anakin #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin x sith reader #anakin skywalker x sith reader #star wars #Star Wars prequels #fics

[feminist-propaganda]

The War - On Drugs

One of the things that pisses me off when it comes to drugs, is the idea that somehow they make people more peaceful.

Drugs tend to be associated with spirituality (LSD, marijuana) or parties (cocaine, MDMA). Not taking drugs is seen as something “fachist” or “intolerant”. All of the cool kids are doing it, only the stuck up ones are saying no.

Even though humans discovered a lot of psychotic substances by observing animals use them (such as the goats who were chewing on the coffee beans in Ethiopia ) it simply isn’t true that drug usage is a peaceful practise. Quite the opposite.

I want to talk about how historically drugs have been used to fuel war.

1. Snorting Cocaine in the Trenches

The very first factory that ever produced cocaine is located a couple of kilometers away from my house, in a town called Amstelveen. 

In 1875, some coca plants were transferred from Brasil to Java, where they were cultivated by the locals under Dutch supervision. In 1900, the Nederlandsche Cocaïnefabriek was created and quickly became the biggest producer in Europe.

It’s only during the first World War though, that the Nederlandsche Cocaïnefabriek really made it’s mark on the pages of History. It sold cocaine to both sides (The Allies and the Germans). Soldiers were taught to cope with the atrocities they saw on the battlefield, the long marches and the rest of it all because they were using cocaine as an upper and opium as a downer.

In the period between the two Wars; some regulations were passed and manufacturing cocaine ceased to be so lucrative, as you could only sell it as a medical product. Fortunately for the Nederlandsche Cocaïnefabriek, during the Second World war, they were once again able to turn a profit by selling opiates to the German Army.

2. Walking to Russia on Ecstasy

During the Second World War, Hitler used methamphetamines to motivate his soliders and give them the energy they needed to walk 30 km a day. People have written at length about the engines and machinery that were developped during the Third Reich, but fail to mention or understand that twenty year old men would’ve probably not commited mass murder and genocide had they not been high on methamphetamines.

Don’t believe me? This is how Time magazine put it in January 2020:

“Few drugs have received a bigger stimulus from war. As Lester Grinspoon and Peter Hedblom wrote in their classic 1975 study The Speed Culture, “World War II probably gave the greatest impetus to date to legal medically authorized as well as illicit black market abuse of these pills on a worldwide scale.”

3. Murdering people on Hash

You might not be convinced that Drugs are the fuel of war and violence because I’ve only talked about the hard drugs, also known as the “party drugs”. How about Hash? The word “assassin” comes from a murder cult called the “Hashishin”. These people formed a group of killers in Northern Iran in the 11th century. The members of the group were offered hash and while they were high would enjoy sensual pleasures such as sex with young women and good food. When they came out of their transes, they would go on murdering expeditions where they were expected to kill specific people.

The secret group was very well organized in a hierarchy of five levels, and only the lowest level was tasked with killing individuals. The decision makers believed that it was better to kill a select number of people that had differing opinions or views than them rather than waging a war.

The killers belived that they were fighting a holy war. In reality, the leaders of the organization would receive commissions from third parties who would pay for the assassination they ordered. They were also great at extorting money, and used the threat of the “Hashishin” to convince their victimes of paying up. 

But why do I care about this anyway? Can’t I just let users use whatever they want to? Why am I giving you this history lesson?

The reason I care is because we tend to think that men are violent, we use the phrase “boys will be boys” to illustrate our belief that we don’t think there’s anything we can do about this. It’s almost as if we think it’s intrinsic to their nature, that they have to let it out sometimes. We think it’s expected and we can’t be upset if they use violence to express themselves.

The idea that men are violent serves a very specific purpose. We don’t perpetuate it for nothing. It’s function is to justify Wars. We teach little boys to own guns and fight, we make videos games that are full of violence, then when they become teenage boys we give them beer and joints. By the time they are adults they’re transformed into violent, dangerous citizens. 

Sending such a man off to war is easier than sending a man who is well read, who likes to paint and writes poetry about his emotions. How could such a man accept the War? 

We perpetuate the idea that men are violent to justify War.

I disagree. Men are not intrinsically violent. During their childhoods, they are told to suppress their emotions, taught that emotions are dangerous, that their emotions make them less worthy of love, that their emotions are so undesirable that if they allow themselves to feel them; they might be excommunicated, that their own mothers might stop loving them.

Later in life, men start resorting to drugs to avoid feeling and dealing with their emotions. And we all know what the consequences of this behavior is. But hey, let me just share some numbers:

- In the UK, suicide is the second biggest cause for deaths in Men. According to one article on the BBC:

It’s the same in many other countries. Compared to women, men are three times more likely to die by suicide in Australia, 3.5 times more likely in the US and more than four times more likely in Russia and Argentina. WHO’s data show that nearly 40% of countries have more than 15 suicide deaths per 100,000 men; only 1.5% show a rate that high for women.

- Men are more likely to develop an addiction to the effects of alcohol. The Center for disease Control in the US reports:

Adult Men Drink More than Women

Almost 59% of adult men report drinking alcohol in the past 30 days compared with 47% of adult women.1

Men are almost two times more likely to binge drink than women.1-3 Approximately 22% of men report binge drinking and on average do so 5 times a month, consuming 8 drinks per binge.2

In 2019, 7% of men had an alcohol use disorder compared with 4% of women.4

-Men are also more likely to be homeless. According to the Demographic Data Project: 

Homelessness in America is largely a gendered phenomenon. Men are the overwhelming majority individuals counted in the HUD-required annual Point-in-Time Count. They are also more likely than women to be unsheltered.  Ending homelessness requires better understanding of the issues that cause so many men to become homeless, and the particular housing, employment, and services solutions that would best end their homelessness.   

When will we stop romanticising drugs as something that makes us creative, friendly or funny and actually see them for what they are? 

#drugs #violence #post traumatic stress disorder #toxic masculinity #feminism #war

[ask-runaan-anything]

Wait you’ve encountered human assasains!!! Please do tell this story!

A few years ago, an upstart nobleman in Del Bar was well on his way to enacting a coup against King Florian. He dabbled in dark magic to influence those around him. His most recent acquisition from Xadia via dark market smugglers was something he very much was not allowed to keep. For that, and for his designs against a king who had given us very little trouble in all his reign, we were sent to take him and recover what he had stolen from Xadia.

That same night, Florian’s own assassins sought the upstart’s life. He’d learned of the plot against him, but not its details. My assassins came face to face with Florian’s as we all entered the target’s sleeping chamber at the same time--us through the window, and them through a secret passage behind a painting.

We had half a second of wide-eyed staring all around as ten people armed to the teeth tried to remain silent in each other’s presence and not wake their target to call for his guards.

I drew my bow to silence their leader, but she stabbed her sword into a soft chair and dropped to her knees in a bow. “Please,” she whispered, “we all want the same thing. There’s no need to kill us tonight. We won’t stand in your way.”

Well, one of her men decided that he might just. He demanded that they have the right to kill their target because he was a citizen of Del Bar and under their jurisdiction.

That was already far too much talking for my preferences, but I could already see that a simple battle would be anything but. If the humans took their target, our mission would fail. The binding ribbon doesn’t account for accidental deaths, and letting a human assassin take my target for me definitely counts as an accident.

I lowered my bow and jerked my head to summon the human leader over by the fireplace on the far wall. We both gave our squads the same general instructions: no one kills anyone until we come back with a plan.

So the human and I cahooted by the embers of our target’s dying fire.

“I’ve heard of you,” she began. “Moonshadow killers.”

“Assassins,” I corrected.

“It’s the same thing, innit?”

“It’s really not.”

“Fair enough.” For being as short as she was, she was surprisingly unintimidated by me once my bow was down. “All I ask is that you let my crew live. Even Barnaby there, with the big mouth. Maybe let him get in a good stab with you? He’s tops with that sword of his.”

I shook my head and glanced at the white ribbon on my arm. “We are bound to take him. It is our way. But if you don’t stand between us and our target, I will let you pass. That is also our way.”

She folded her arms and studied me. “Barnaby’s right about one thing, though. This fool here, he’s our fool. Why does Xadia care what trouble he gets up to? We were just about to handle him ourselves. You really didn’t need to trouble yourselves.”

“We did. He has taken something, and we’re here to retrieve it. And to punish him for his reckless arrogance.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the secret painting doorway. “You mean that strange dog in the cage?”

“You found him?” I blurted.

“Passed by in a curious and staring sort of way, more like,” she said. “Tell you what, my good uh, elf. I’ll have my crew free the dog, and you can handle His Nibs here. On two conditions.”

I squinted down at her. I’m not used to being given conditions by a human. “I’m listening.”

“We claim the kill in the name of King Florian.”

“Fair enough. We do not kill for glory--”

“And,” she continued, right over me, “I get to tell everyone whatever I want to about making you go away.”

I frowned, not following. “What do you mean?”

She chuckled softly. “This is a once in a lifetime chance at bragging rights. I want to be able to say that I beat you. It’ll look amazing on my resume.”

“You already work for a king.”

She grinned. “Today, I do. Tomorrow... who knows? So no coming back over here to shut me up for telling lies and besmirching your flawless reputation or anything. You get the kill, I get the glory. However I want it. Do we have an accord?” She held out her hand, expecting me to shake it.

I stared at it. “Not until you decide on your... lie of choice.”

She glanced over her shoulder again. Our squads were getting restless, making tiny aggressive gestures at each other. “You came for the dog, so I’ll say I bribed you to go away.”

“Not with the... the dog,” I countered. “If those who dabble in dark magic start collecting Xadian creatures to use as bribes, your troubles will only increase.”

“Hmm, a salient point, my good elf. Alright then. Maybe I bribed you with a kiss.”

I stared at her for a solid ten seconds. She raised a curious eyebrow. I coughed a laugh against my fist to keep it quiet from our snoozing target. “Everyone in Xadia will know that to be a lie upon hearing it, I’m afraid.”

Her gaze swept me up and down. “Alright, fair enough, but that’s good for both of us, isn’t it?”

“It’s really not,” I repeated. “Just stick with your golden coins. That’s still an easily spotted lie.”

She frowned up at me. “You don’t have gold in Xadia?”

“Gold, yes. Coins, no.” I tapped my horn cuff with a finger. “But I prefer silver anyway.”

“Fine. You’re common grubby rabble, eager for the shine of pretty coins... and I... raided this fool’s strongbox to pay you off,” she finished with a big smile, realizing she was about to go home with her pockets full. “Now, shake my hand and I’ll get you your dog.”

I stared at her for another long moment. “I could still kill you.”

“You won’t. You like me.” She shot me a sassy wink. 

“I really don’t. Go get the moonstrider before I change my mind.” I shook her hand, and she hurried back to her crew.

While they returned through the painting, my crew and I took our target, swiftly and without waking him. By the time the humans returned with a very wiggly moonstrider pup wrapped in a tapestry to keep him from biting them, our binding ribbons had turned red and fallen. I picked them up reluctantly, so that their existence wouldn’t contradict the human assassin’s tale of the evening’s events.

Their leader handed me the wriggly pup, who happily licked my cheek and snuggled against me. I couldn’t help smiling to have him back in Xadian hands. “Shh now. You’re safe, and we’re taking you home,” I told him.

“Oi, can I have those ribbons there?” the human assassin leader asked.

“Absolutely not. I’m not letting you plant these at any convenient kill you make.”

She had the audacity to pout at me! I very nearly changed my mind about letting her live. I pointed to the painting. “You have your lives. Now go.”

Her crew sauntered off, and she turned away last. “Alright boys, help me crack this strongbox open.”

We headed back out the window, and I left last. I heard the strongbox lock crack open, followed by three swift thumps. Morbidly curious, I hopped back down into the sill. The assassin I’d spoken with was the only one left alive in the room.

“What?” she asked innocently. “See, this way, you’ve killed all my crew and broken into the strongbox too. Greedy and murderous. The story sounds much better this way. And the four of us can keep this secret much more easily with three of us dead.” She saluted me with her bloodied sword. “Safe travels back to Xadia.”

I left without a word and barely spoke on the journey home. The thought that little discs of gold metal could inspire such behavior sent shivers of distaste through me every time I thought about it.

And now, here I sit in the midst of my own economic crisis. Such irony.

#ask runaan #runaan answers #story time #assassin vs assassin #i'm having an economic crisis #tw blood #tw death #humans why are you like this #maybe have some moonberries and you'll calm down

[wearevillaneve]

Killing Eve S3, E5: “Are You From Pinner?“ should  really  be called “Killing Oksana.”

With “Are You From Pinner?” in the books, we are past the halfway mark of the Suzanne Heathcote era of Killing Eve and in some circles of the fandom, the hope is this wet firecracker of a season will blow up in the final three episodes.

Based upon what’ has come before, this may be a tad optimistic.   As erratic and disjointed as the preceding four episodes, E5 introduced something entirely new and different to Killing Eve.  A standalone showcase for Jodie Comer’s Villanelle without Eve or Dasha or Konstantin or any of the other regular cast to block the spotlight. Can you see the fatal error in all this?

Typically when something is dubbed a “shitshow” it’s meant metaphorically, but as one of the set pieces was Villanelle literally throwing shit, it becomes an accurate description.

Before we got to this point, the six-month time jump from the end of last season looked like a combination of a tactical error and a missed opportunity.   Instead of Villanelle returning to Russia to drop in on the home folks, there were a many more unanswered questions from “You’re Mine” in dire need of an explanation.

1.  Who rescued Eve found and transported her to the hospital?  The “lucky some tourists found you” one-liner by the late Kenny Stowton seems pretty flimsy.   Didn’t the Rome police have any questions about this Asian woman with amazing hair ended up in Hadrian’s Villa lying facedown in a pool of blood?  Was it a robbery?  Okay, so then did Eve have any money, passport or ID to get back to England once she healed sufficiently?  Did she receive any rehabilitative aftercare?   Is she on any pain-killing medicines?  What was her mental state after being shot by V?  What was her emotional and psychological state after slaughtering Raymond to save V?

2.  How did Niko get out of the storage locker?  Eve didn’t know where he was and neither did MI6.  Even if he was found by someone else, how did he explain away the small matter of Gemma’s rotting corpse? Niko griped to Eve that MI6 intervened to make it look like Gemma committed suicide to cover up the fact that not only can’t a spy agency catch an international assassin who kills British citizens at will, they later hired her to work on an off-the-book mission where a technocratic billionaire got his throat slit.  

Why would MI6 go through all that fuss and bother to cover up a murder of a civilian when it could easily be laid at Niko’s feet? His only defense is Gemma was killed by a beautiful blonde psychopath with a crush on his estranged wife.  Carolyn told Eve she was on her own after Rome.   What changed, because something must have for MI6 to ride to Niko’s rescue. 3. Isn’t The Twelve presented as this immense, almighty, sprawling international diabolical entity of murder, violence, and sowing chaos and espionage against nations with their dirty little fingers apparently manipulating every intelligence agency on the planet?  It also deploys assassins and goons too fucking stupid to look under a bed to find an unarmed MI6 agent hiding there quaking in fear OR recognize said agent when a thug asks her out for a sushi dinner.   Well, okay then. Killing Eve logic explains it all.  Returning back to this sluggish solo flight, Villanelle’s family in Mother Russia are a bunch of dopey dunces with anger management issues, poor self-control, and flat-earthers who break out in spontaneous dance routines while the prodigal trouble child, Oksana, looking like the Whitest White Girl Ever who tried to shake her moneymaker, but couldn’t because both of her feet were super-glued to the floor, stands by bewildered probably thinking, “Who the hell are you people?”

A few weeks ago rumors from not-very reliable sources were floating around that executive producer Sally Woodward Gentle had mused it might be conceivable Killing Eve could conceivably go on without one of the two leads.  Perhaps Woodward Gentle is hedging her bets should Comer or Oh not return after the fourth season. “Are You From Pinner” is proof that’s not true.  The show is called Killing Eve, not Killing Villanelle.  Though she has become the sun to Eve’s moon, there’s a reason for Eve Polastri to inhabit a central place in Villanelle’s life.   She is the other half which makes Villanelle whole.  Whether together or apart, what keeps the audience coming back is the strange relationship between Eve and Villanelle. Without Eve to humanize Villanelle, she become just another attractive, charismatic killer with a sad back story.   Yet Villanelle is not a Marvel super villain and many fans were perfectly fine with not knowing what it was in her past that made her who she is now.

Heathcote subverted expectations of another meeting between the central characters in episode 5 as her showrunner predecessors Emerald Fennell and Phoebe Waller-Bridge had done previously, but she went further by removing Eve completely.  Eve was not referenced a single time by Villanelle and weirdly, Sandra Oh and all the other cast members names were removed from the credits.  Heathcote’s erred by that omission as it reinforced the notion some KE fans have held that she and Fennell tilted the balance in favor of Comer’s character as Oh’s is diminished.  That may not have been the newest showrunner’s intention, but it certainly feeds the impression that it was. The conclusion of Villanelle killing her mother and burning down the house was a wrenching, powerful moment, but taken in totality of the entire show, not nearly enough to compensate for the lackluster and pointless set-up scenes.

What we learned from Oksana's origin story is you really can't go home again.  Fine, but why did that require an Eve-less episode to know that.  This all could have unfolded in the six-month jump after Rome as a sub-plot playing out over the first four episodes.   It didn’t justify a standalone showcase for Villanelle. 

All it did was blunt the equally affecting impact of Eve witnessing Niko’s death.  A better and much fairer approach would have been devote the first half to Eve grieving for her murdered husband and the second to Villanelle less-than-warm welcome home. Minus Eve,  and without Konstantin and no Dasha to exercise some guidance over the nuclear missile that is Villanelle, what you get is an unleashed assassin alternatively being childish, being a smart-ass, being mysterious, being fashionable, before inevitably turning murderous.

Most of the time it works and we forgive Villanelle her many trespasses  This time it face-planted despite a sensational closing sequence between Oksana and her mother.  Unfortunately, ten riveting minutes do not make up for the uninteresting 32 minutes which preceded it. 

Villanelle has become unstoppable in her homicidal tendencies.   She has morphed into a female Terminator who occasionally imitates human traits.  Nothing can stop her or barely slow her down.  She commits mayhem and slaughter like most of us breathe and suffers zero consequence for it.  The fact she took out her own mother should neither shock nor surprise. 

“Are You From Pinner?” demonstrates Villanelle’s complex charms shine most brightly in her interactions with Eve, Konstantin and Dasha. Remove them from the equation and even Comer’s wealth of talents are not enough to rise above flat, lifeless characters, muddled motivations and a plot which wavers between the comedic for too long and the tragic too late to register.    A friend said she didn’t much like “Are You From Pinner” but hoped it would be better after a second or third viewing.  I told sometimes a first impression is a right impression and that it was doubtful a third watch would help much.  How much subtlety and nuance is there to be found from a turd tossing contest? I can say with all confidence, I can't see myself watching this episode again.   Like ever.  If you got something out of this misfire and it touched your heart and made you squirt a tear for Oksana, more power to you.   All I got out of it was confirmation why the show is called Killing Eve and not Villanelle and Her Wacky Russian Family.   Come for the comedy.  Stay for the kills.  In a new interview for her Elle Canada cover story, Oh spoke of how she had reached a point in her life where she was not looking for the next big blockbuster movie, but interested in roles where her Korean American identity can be explored.  “I decided that I’m only going to play characters that are essential to the plot, that conduct the narrative and therefore can’t be cut out.” Eve is an essential character who conducts the narrative, and was cut out of the latest installment of the program that bears her name.   And that bothers me.   It bothers me a lot more than just a mediocre Killing Eve story.  I will never watch another Killing Eve which erases one of the female leads to elevate the other.    That is not how women empower women. 

FINAL GRADE: C 

#Killing Eve #Villanelle #suzanne heathcote #ke s3 #emerald fennell #phoebe waller bridge #showrunner #Eve Polastri #Villanelle x Eve

[thepartyresponsible]

here’s a short, relatively fluffy fic about what happens when jason todd and clint barton, a pair of career criminals and expert thieves, steal the winter soldier.

and to the anon who asked for a fluffy fic featuring hot chocolate, blankets, and warm feels shared by clint, jason, and tony....um. i’m really sorry. i’ve had a lot of cold medication. my reading comprehension is compromised.

Popular opinion would no doubt suggest that stealing the Winter Soldier is the ballsiest heist Jason and Clint have ever pulled. Jason’s not sure he’d rank it that high. After all, their Batcave stunt was pretty egregiously ill-advised, and then there was the time they stole fifty grand worth of Kryptonite with the use of a clipboard and some fake EPA inspector badges they printed out at a public library.

But keeping the Winter Soldier. Yeah. Sure. That’s pretty ballsy.

No real other options, though. At least none that either of them could live with.

Jason knows they’re doomed the moment he hears the quiet horror in Clint’s voice, the way his words catch, just a little, when he says, “Um. Jay? I think it’s a person.”

Because stealing a serial killer robot from HYDRA and then handing it off to the League of Assassins for “decommissioning” is one thing, but turning over a living, breathing human being is another. He and Clint walk all kinds of fuzzy ethical lines. God knows even Selina gets shrill about their activities sometimes. But they don’t deal in people. Not ever.

“Okay,” Jason says, nudging Clint gently out of the way. “Go steal us something fast. I’ll handle this.”

Because, between the two of them, Clint’s got the softer heart. He doesn’t get fussy about what happens in an honest fight, but he can get downright melancholy about the necessities of after-battle cleanup, and Jason’s happy to spare him from it, when he can.  

So Clint goes to get them a car that’ll get them out of the country before Ra’s realizes he’s been screwed around, and Jason goes to hover over the Winter Soldier, freshly defrosted, still barely twitching his way back to consciousness.

And Jason’s not an asshole. Whatever this guy’s done, he hasn’t done it to Jason or anyone who belongs to him, so none of this is personal. It’s gonna be fast and easy, just a bullet between the eyebrows, but the Winter Soldier blinks his pretty eyes open, looks up the barrel of the gun, and stares right into Jason’s face.

“я готов отвечать,” he says.

Ready to comply, Jason thinks.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jason says.

And so, after that, Jason doesn’t have the heart to kill him, either.

  There’s a lot of yelling in the days that follow. From all conceivable sides. Ra’s al Ghul threatens every kind of unpleasant thing, and HYDRA hounds after them like they’re supposed to be scared of a group of megalomaniacal old cult assholes too creepy to get invited to the local Free Masons, and Selina calls Jason every day for a week to shriek at him about how she didn’t save him from the streets of Gotham so he could get murdered for stealing the world’s most brutal assassin.

“Selina, c’mon,” Jason says, muttering into the phone. Winter’s asleep in the backseat, shackled up like Houdini before a trick, and they’ve had a couple exciting moments, but he’s mostly just been quiet and kinda eerily empty-eyed. He keeps asking Jason about the mission. “He’s fine. I mean, he’s a little rough around the edges, sure. But I found Clint in a dumpster.”

“Hey,” Clint says, whisper-hissing at him from the passenger seat.

“And he looked great,” Jason tacks on quickly, with a wink he hopes will smooth things over. “Amazing. That dumpster didn’t know how lucky it had it.”

“You need to be careful,” Selina says. She put down two HYDRA goons this morning. They barged in on her in her pajamas, and she’s probably more pissed about getting caught with bed hair than having to dump two bodies before noon.

Although, she never was much of a morning person.

“We’re being careful,” Clint promises, leaning over to talk into the phone. “We couldn’t leave him, Selina. You didn’t see him. It was--- it was really bad.”

Selina’s quiet for a moment. “He’s an international criminal,” she says. And then, probably after she remembers that every single person in this conversation has their own personal INTERPOL file, she adds: “He’s an assassin.”

“I think he’s nice,” Clint says, stubborn and loyal. As always.

He only thinks that because Winter keeps trying to palm him extra food. Jason has to make a big show out of giving Clint food at the same time as he unlocks Winter for meals, or Winter will only eat half his food and then stash the rest so he can sneak it to Clint later.

Jason does not consider this behavior an endorsement of HYDRA’s caretaking expertise.

“He’d better be worth all the trouble,” Selina says. But she doesn’t mean it. Selina’s a thief and a liar and sometimes a killer, but she’s just like Clint, really. Softhearted for lost causes, both of them.

Jason can’t complain. It’s that shared weakness that brought both of them to him.

“Well,” Jason says, “if he’s not, we’ll just drop him with whatever country’s offering the biggest bounty.”

“That’s my boy,” Selina says. “But remember to start a bidding war first.”

  The thing about Winter is that he’s actually James Buchannan Barnes, Captain America’s best friend. He’s a Goddamn war hero, and HYDRA took him, tortured him, blended his brain, and made him kill people.

Jason grew up in Gotham, spent his formative years playing sidekick to Catwoman, so he’s seen some fucked-up situations. But it makes him sick, watching Winter work it out. Catching those sporadic flashes of Bucky Barnes, the miserable, devastated way he closes his eyes when the memories come, like it was better, somehow, when all he knew how to say was Yes, No, and Ready to comply.

And Clint was right. He is nice. He’s painfully sweet, really, in the way he frets over Clint until he figures out that Jason doesn’t actually run things, doesn’t own Clint, and sure as hell would never hurt him. And then he frets over both of them. Stoic and steely-eyed and stone-jawed, fretting like a Goddamn mother hen.

HYDRA wants him back, and Ra’s wants him dead, and Jason and Clint, as insistently and dramatically as they can, invite both of them to fuck right off.

They don’t really mean to keep him. Not forever. Just until people stop trying to murder him. Just until they can stash him in some nice town, where no one knows who he is, where he can go back to being Bucky Barnes full time and forget all about everything HYDRA made him into.

But people don’t stop. The whole world keeps coming after them. And Bucky, for his part, doesn’t want to leave them.

Six months in, Clint catches a bullet, and Bucky gets stolen, and Jason has to choose to leave Clint so he can go grab Bucky before they wipe him clean out of his own head. And Clint’s going to be fine, knows how to look after himself, didn’t get shot anywhere vital. But Jason crashes into that transport van with Clint’s blood on his hands, and it makes him crazy, a little. It makes him a nightmare.

So, afterwards, Selina brokers a meeting with Batman, and Jason goes, because Batman’s owed him a favor ever since that years-long game of tag he used to play with Nightwing resulted in him accidentally stumbling into a situation where he saved Nightwing’s life.

He doesn’t bring Clint, and he doesn’t bring Bucky, because he figures Batman’s not going to kill him, but he might throw him in prison. If he does, Selina will bust him out on principle, and she’d almost certainly do the same for Clint, but Bucky’s so new and so much trouble that she might just leave him where he’s less likely to get Jason killed.

“Look, Bats,” Jason says, when they’re finally standing uncomfortably on the same rooftop. “We don’t like each other. You’re the delusional iron fist of the bourgeoisie acting out your punishment kink on the unsuspecting poor, and I’m just a guy trying to make a living. But we gotta work together on this, okay? Or I’m gonna leak the porn I found on the Batcave computers.”

Batman takes a long breath in through his nose. He seems to visibly weigh out which issue to raise first. “You planted those files on the Batcave computers.”

And he hadn’t, actually. Clint did that. He’d spent the whole night before the job downloading Superman-themed porn, and he’d filled Jason’s laptop with so much malware that Jason eventually just burned the thing in a purifying pyre. But Jason had to admit that running those videos on every screen in the Batcave had resulted in a truly awe-inspiring, immersive experience.

“We were just trying to be supportive,” Jason says. “Anyway. Look. You owe me a favor.”

There’s a lot of back-and-forth after that, consisting mainly of Batman holding forth about how saving a life is its own reward and he doesn’t owe Jason a favor and Jason really needs to reconsider his life choices while he still has the opportunity to do so. But he seems to listen when Jason tells him what he knows about HYDRA, about how deep its infiltration of SHIELD and various world governments goes. He’s quiet when Jason talks about Bucky. And, when Jason hands over all their intel, he takes the flash drive readily enough.

“If this is more porn,” he says, holding up the flash drive, “I’m throwing all of you in Blackgate.”

“Jesus, Bats,” Jason says, not even trying to bite back a laugh. “If it had that much of an impact on you, you should do some solitary self-reflection about it. Maybe some of those documentaries we left for you could help.”

  Jason leaves Gotham and drives through the morning and afternoon and early evening, doubling and then tripling back on his route, making sure he’s not being followed. When he finally makes it to the safehouse, he’s shivery cold and dead tired. Bucky goes over his bike, checking for any trackers Jason might have missed, and Clint bullies him right into the shower.

Afterwards, Jason faceplants on the couch, and Clint hauls him up a few minutes later so he can press a mug of hot chocolate into his hands. “Drink this,” he says.

“Coffee,” Jason groans.

“No,” Clint says, as he settles next to him. “You’ve gotta sleep, you asshole. You’ve been up for three days straight.”

“Whiskey,” Jason tries, a little less plaintive and a little more mutinous.

Clint sighs. “I already put bourbon in there.”

Jason hums, appeased, and leans over to press a smacking kiss to Clint’s cheek. “You’re a fucking saint,” he says.

“Oh, a fucking saint,” Clint mutters, rolling his eyes. There’s a pleased blush settling along the lines of his cheekbones. “Didn’t know they made those.”

“The patron saint of fucking,” Jason declares, sipping at his hot chocolate. “Endowed with the power of---”

“This should be good,” Bucky mumbles, from across the room.

“Oh shit,” Jason says, and nearly sloshes the hot chocolate on himself. He tries not to talk about sex too much in front of Bucky. He tries not to think about sex too much in front of Bucky. He’s helplessly in love with Clint, and has been since he hauled him out of that dumpster in Gotham, but, as Winter fades and Bucky manifests more confidently in this new century, there’s been a growing tension between the three of them that Jason, frankly, has no idea what to do with.

“No, go on,” Bucky says, like this is the conversation he wants to have. Like he’s not the slightest bit curious about the mission Jason just ran, the one that’s supposed to clear his name, open a path that allows them to work with SHIELD to burn HYDRA to the ground. “He’s the patron saint of what, again?”

“Yeah,” Clint says, blinking at him with his innocent face in place. “What were you saying?”

Jason rolls his eyes and takes a pointed drink of his hot chocolate. It’s nice, he decides. That everyone’s comfortable enough to shit-talk him these days. Real refreshing. A Goddamn triumph of the resiliency of the human spirit.

“It went alright?” Bucky says, because he’s almost always the merciful one. Maybe he enjoys the novelty of it.

When he wanders over, he snags a blanket off the nearby chair, and he curls up on the end of the couch beside Clint, tossing the blanket over the three of them. He holds his hands out toward Jason, and Jason, without even thinking, passes his hot chocolate over. Bucky’s fingers brush Jason’s, and linger.

Jason isn’t making this shit up. He knows he isn’t.

First of all, he spends half his life watching people hit on Clint. He knows the signs.

Second of all, people get hot chocolate on their lips every day, but nobody licks it off like that unless they’re trying to plant ideas in people’s heads about what else those lips and tongue could do.

“Um,” Jason says, when he realizes they’re both staring at him. “Yeah. I mean. He didn’t throw me off a roof or put me in prison, so. I think he’s gonna help.”

Clint and Bucky exchange a look and then shrug. By their standards, that’s the start of a highly promising business relationship.

“Well,” Clint says, as he sprawls out, tucked in tight against Jason’s side, with a casual ankle hooked around one of Bucky’s. “You guys wanna watch Dog Cops?”

Jason figures, between the bourbon, and the blanket, and the warm weight of Clint’s body, he’s gonna be asleep in fifteen minutes. But he’d give Clint anything he asked for. “Sure,” he says, eyes already drifting closed. “Sounds great.”

  Two days later, they meet with a reserved, competent, endlessly unamused man named Phil Coulson. He doesn’t smile or laugh or seem to like them even a little bit. But he doesn’t try to kill them, either.

Four years later, they’re Strike Team Delta, and they’ve acquired Natasha Romanoff and a hell of a reputation. Coulson smiles more and yells more, and still hasn’t tried to kill them. Not once. Not even after Budapest.

HYDRA is ashes, and Bucky is theirs.

So what the hell. Maybe stealing the Winter Soldier wasn’t their ballsiest heist. But it was definitely their best.

#writing #fic

[adleryoung]

Well.

I managed to survive your horrid lowfolk holiday relatively unscathed, no thanks to the perfidy of certain individuals whom I won't name.  You know who you are.

And so do I.

For now, let's continue on with the story.  Where did Typantronn get you up to?  Let's see ... I was parleying with Ash Marten and he was making ridiculous statements about my enemies and how he could help them get to me, so I called his bluff and asked him to elaborate on the subject more fully.  We stared at each other for a while, until I thought he was playing some strange form of Frontgammon - and then suddenly:

"Of course," Ash grinned as his jovial manner suddenly returned.  "I would be happy to list off your enemies.  You should have done this yourself.  It is something that will be an absolute necessity if you wish to rule an empire someday.  Surely you don't believe for a moment that Queen Edessa is your only enemy?  What about the Duchess of Daisies, Bonsai and his Shrub Knights, the Vulpitanians, the rabbit village, or the entire population of Faerie?  Even your former allies are turning on you.  Did you forget that your former mentor tried to kill you not long ago?  It wasn't your plea of innocence that convinced Estvan to stop; it was when you took his walking stick and threatened him with it as a bargaining chip.  Another example:  That opossum body guard you used to have, the last time you met he helped you despite the Duchess's wishes.  He has a family.  According to my contacts when O'Daisies were still doing business out here, the Duchess found out about Lemmy's little slip. Who is he more likely to strike out against, the Duchess or you?  You've been safe out here only because all the forces that worked against you believed you to be harmless. That's not entirely true anymore, is it?  As minuscule and slow to build as it is, your hair cult is a shuffling inch in the right direction.  Would they see you as truly harmless if they realized you were slowly building influence and resources?  Of course they would be wiser to strike while you are still small and weak.  I only have to say the right words to the right people, and the word spreads around through Faerie and the lowfolk realm.  Suddenly Edessa realizes your banishment isn't as restrictive as she thought.  Suddenly Bonsai finds out his tree guards are no longer serving their original purpose.  Suddenly The Duchess discovers that her originally dismissed suspicion that you were behind the trees attacking her really was your doing all along.  Suddenly the rabbits of Bunkirk learn that you and your followers are the real culprits behind their recent troubles.  Suddenly the Vulpitanians learn that their spy has become a turncoat and is working for the presumptive emperor now.  Suddenly word spreads like wildfire and every elf in all of Faerie realizes that Adler the 'Mass Murdering Brother Killer' is still alive, and they learn exactly where he is.  Militias, spies, assassins, knights, fundamentalists, and everyone who bears you a grudge will be marching to your doorstep.  As for 'holding the door open' ... scoff all you like; it matters not that I can't approach the stone circle.  I am a Fuma damned master of nature lore and magicks.  I can force the trees currently guarding you to go inert or even kill themselves if I so wished.  I've let you discover one word - just one puny nature word against my own vast, encyclopedic knowledge which I gained over centuries.  I'll have you know that I wrote the book on nature lore and the use of the Voice of the Forest!  So rest assured, my young friend, you will be utterly helpless and unguarded while you are accosted from all sides.  Your cultists won't be able to help you, because they will be busy bearing the Rabbits' wrath.  You might be able to hold off such a multifarious assault for a while, but you can't defend on all fronts indefinitely.  Eventually even the keenest eye must blink, and yours is not the keenest by far ...  Imagine the Duchess succeeding this time in planting her charm, rendering you blind, deaf, and dumb to the outside world, hiding in your little tower in fear for your life forevermore."

At some point about two-thirds of the way through this monologue, I began to hear a small voice whispering "Sire!  Psst!  Sire!" somewhere behind me.  I tried to wave the interloper to silence and listen to the rest of Ash's rant - just to be polite more than anything else.

Eventually he stopped talking and paused with a smug look on his face, apparently expecting me to gasp or sob or something.

"Is that it?" I asked.  "Are you done?  Hang on for a minute.  My spy has returned and I need to hear her report."

"Naturally," Ash gloated.

"Well?" I asked the Ixie as I withdrew from the scrying-space.  "Did you contact the Sisterhood?  What did they have to say?"

"They're not sure who he really is," she replied.  "If this is the same Ash Marten who ran a tavern in Tulgeyside and then burned it down, they know him to be a small-time operator of local organized crime, specializing in murder, extortion, and insurance fraud.  Before the fire, his tavern was a good recruitment location for potential Sisterhood agents.  They've kept an eye on him but so far have deemed him not enough of a threat to merit action.  What has he been saying?  Has he menaced thee?  They would be most interested to hear of any developments in that direction."

"He's pathetically desperate," I sighed, shaking my head at the sad spectacle of seeing an elf brought so low.  "Really grasping at straws.  He needs me to be crowned so I can pardon him, but instead of begging my favor he's acting all belligerent as if he alone can control my destiny.  Instead of simply helping himself by helping me, he's willing to sabotage things so that neither he nor I can ever get what we want.  It's downright goofy.  Get this:  He reckons the Duchess will come all the way back here to fight me when she discovers I'm a bigger threat, even though I managed to whoop her butt when I was LESS of a threat earlier!  I suspect he's a dishonest elf, because he implied that it was threats of physical violence, not my sincere protestations of innocence, that convinced Estvan to stop trying to murder me.  He seems confused about what exactly Lemmy did for me after the battle ... wait ... does that mean Lemmy is still alive?  Did he get out of Albric Tor?  How would Ash Marten know that?  And what did Lemmy do anyway?  He said he'd make a vague report about me to the Duchess; that's all.  If he got on her bad side I doubt he'd be in any position to come take it out on me.  Ash said something about a Vulpitanian spy defecting to my side and I don't have the slightest clue what he's referring to there, but if it's true wouldn't that be more to my benefit than my disadvantage?  He tried to scare me with the mental image of hordes of elves marching here to attack me - but Faerie is perforated by Gaps.  They'd have to march on foot through lowfolk country, and I don't see a lot of elves going to that much trouble.  The only thing he's got that worries me is his uncanny command over the trees.  If he gets the rabbits riled up and then clears the forest ..."

"Sire?" the Ixie asked as I trailed off.

"Something just occurred to me," I said excitedly.  "Ash said he had written the book on the Voice of the Forest.  What if that was no mere figure of speech, but ..."

I dashed to the bookcase where I thought I had remembered seeing it, and sure enough, there it was:  A thin, cheaply-bound monograph entitled An Exhaustive Treatise on the Tactical Utility of the Voice of the Forest, with complete glossary, by Dr. Owter Cesawonki, S.A., L.V.

I quietly thanked Fuma for her gift of Luck, and my ancestor Thorwald for being such an obsessive hoarder of information that he started the Department of Definitive Veracity, which built this scrying tower, and at some forgotten date obtained an obscure piece of Vulpitanian scholarship for its library.

"I think I know who our mysterious Mr. Marten is," I chuckled.  "Stay on call in case I need you, but I'm starting to feel it will not be necessary to involve The Sisterhood in this affair after all."

#furry #elf #cartoon #adventure #plot #story #tboay

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The first short story I ever wrote

This story was my very first entry to the monthly competitions. It was my first ever English short story. Though it’s very tempting to edit it, I like to keep it exactly as I once posted it, so I can look back and see my own progress over time.

Hades didn't know how he felt about the sight in front of him. His life had led him to some of the most desolate places on the continent, and he had learnt to appreciate dreariness in a landscape. If you kept morals out, anything could become beautiful.

But the ruin of a city's Plant was something else. The vitreous building, still majestic despite its downfall, was marked by soot. Massive metal beams and towering shards of molten materials stabbed the ground around its broken frame. Fire had killed that Plant. Nothing spoke of slow and painful death like the carcass of a Plant. It meant no filtered water, no recycled earth. No uncontaminated food. Despite his twisted tastes, Hades couldn't find it in him to appreciate the view. Instead he shouldered his bag and went in search of a lookout, internally seething against his employer. It wasn't an assassin they should have sent out here but a recovery crew. The life of his target most certainly wasn't worth more than the smallest piece that could be salvaged from the Plant. His employer must be ill informed. The town had been doomed years ago in that fire.

He stayed in his lookout for two days before he spotted his first sign of human life. Gray shadow on grayer background. Proof people were still surviving. He sat in his concrete lair, charging his gun, screwing his silencer on. Maybe after all his target was alive. When he saw a second human in the distance, he took to the streets. For several hours he walked in expanding circles, hugging shadows, progressing through debris. The kid reached him before Hades could sense him. Instant brownie points earned. This respect was all that saved the child from getting his head blasted, as Hades stood, gripping his pack, grimly staring at the sheepish youth holding on to the other end of it. Hades shook the straps violently, jolting the kid off against the pile of trash sheltering them. However the kid stood his ground, cooly assessing the older man.

"Are you a Rogue?" the child asked, eyes suddenly sparkling. "Why? Are you a Rogue killer?" Hades scowled. The kid only groaned, turning his attention back to the pack. Hades had seen rogue killers younger than this kid. Considering that the ones who could claim the kill had first dibs on the rogue's belongings, people got motivated. In such ruined cities all thieves or scavengers, even simple shady strangers, would fall under the Rogue denomination. Of course Hades fell into other categories as well. Spy, thief, murderer. Gun for hire. Hopelessly for the locals, he would probably prove too hard a kill even if the entire town set after him.

"You've gotta be one though no?" The kid went on, "Not like people come to visit here no more."

"Your English is dreadful." Hades replied.

The kid shrugged, unconcerned. The sound of upset rubble clicked in the air and in an instant the kid fell forward, arms bent, fingers splayed to smoothly catch his weight. He landed soundlessly next to Hades, who had spontaneously crouched, palming his gun under his coat. He was impressed by the kid's reflexes. "Smart brat" he whispered. "Them dumb ones don't grow old." Hades waited, scanning the ruined street and staying stone-still, even after a scrawny fox dashed away, offering a possible explanation for the noise that had startled them. One didn't survive by being dismissive. As they finally relaxed, Hades made up his mind. "What's your name kid?" "Aki. What's yours?" "Hades" Aki frowned, his little dirty nose creasing in concentration. "Heard it before I think but… never met you" Hades laughed at that. "You probably heard it in old stories." "Stories about you?" "No. A very long time ago, some people believed in a God called Hades. They left many stories about their gods." The kid gaped, his jaw falling open in complete amazement. "You've got a god's name?! Dust me!" he was so enthusiastic that Hades resolved to keep the nature of his namesake's godly business to himself. No need to dampen the mood. "Aki, sorry to cut the fun but I've been traveling for days to get here. I've got a message for the town's Master Engineer. I didn't know the Plant had died. Is he still alive?" Aki nodded. "Could you take me to him?" Hades asked. The child stood up and dusted his thick gloves on his hips. "Canna do that if you're a Rogue." "I'm no Rogue." The kid shrugged again. Obviously the gesture was some local equivalent for "I don't care what you say". Hades opened his pack with a sigh and made a show of digging through his belongings under the suddenly burning gaze of the youth. He felt bad. Why bother with this kid? Hades had never had to invent a cover story before. Why talk to the rare people who got in his way when he could simply kill them? But if the kid led him to the Master Engineer, he'd speed Hades' work by days… And betray his Master. Anyway he wasn't lying was he? He was a traveller. He had a message to deliver. Bullet message between the eyes.

"Here, that's from Beiry. A shell, the home of a creature that lives in the sea. That's dried fruit paste. They make it in Sakarof, ten days walk West of here. It's sweet. And that's my old mister, you could plug it on your mask. It vibrates when the levels get too high. You pick. I give you the one you want to bring me to your Master Engineer." It was an easy bargain. The kid was quick in making decisions and wisely chose the mister over the rest. Aki might look twelve, but Hades suspected him to be older. The scraggy body poking under the layers of protective clothing spoke of years with too little food. He glanced down at his own chest, peeking under his combi at jutting ribs. He looked almost as malnourished as the child. That's what you got for spending weeks walking through the zone on stupid contracts.

Aki proved to be intense company. He needed frequent breaks and paced their movements in order to always rest in a shelter he was familiar with. He would then indulge in a stream of breathless chatter. He explained how the ruins of the town were mapped, took them to the water works, pointed at shelters, led the way to the cemetery field and cross-questioned Hades about the ways of other town-people, and if any around had pretty girls. He told him everything he remembered about the day their own Plant burnt. He was all around the single most bubbly, optimistic, good humoured zone dweller Hades had ever met. It baffled him. "You're a very trustful brat to tell a stranger all this." "It's my mom's doin' you know? It's how she saved the town too, when the Plant died on us." "What do you mean?" "You know of Master no? She's no leader, weird specialty too. Old tech, she used to study. When the Plant died, everyone was just feeling like it should be someone's fault, so they got after her." "Your Master Engineer is a woman?" Aki nodded. Hades was surprised, but waved at Aki to continue. "Like I said, my mom always went 'Aki, there is no trustin' no one these days, so you'll have to make a choice each time, and start trusting. Better live with treason than never trustin' no one'. That's what she went yelling at people who were after the Master, too. And she did good on that. None of us would be living but for the Master." Hades' curiosity was definitely piqued.

Aki had led them towards the edge of the town, walking along the hazy border between concrete and wilderness. He finally went up a slope, creeping to the top and hid behind a boulder, pointing down around it.

For the second time that week, Hades didn't know how to feel about the sight in front of him. Aki sniggered. Underground buildings poked out of the earth, next to three long, half buried glasshouses, complete with lead sheeting. A century old model. People where going around, caring for plants grown on aeroponic beds. "Dust me to Hell" Hades muttered, "your Master specialized in 21st century tech?" Aki nodded vigorously. "We're still twenty-two people, eight years after. She's teaching us good."

The Master, easily identifiable by her combi, appeared by a glasshouse, patiently showing another woman how to coil a water cable. And here he had come, to this impossible, hidden little village of hope, the god of Death he was, to put a bullet in that woman's head, crop it off and carry it to a ruthless employer. One bullet, twenty-two deaths. Hades felt sick. Dust it all! He turned to Aki, yanking him close. "Kid, in that cemetery, didn't you say you buried someone recently?"

~~ March 2015 – theme : Rogues

#original writing #original story #competition #rogues #fantasy