#how on gods green earth am i gonna train to use it to get anywhere even Close to how fighters are meant to use that weapon

[deny3verything]

the biggest problem with fiction in the modern age is that i need to have a cool weapon that i’m very good at using, but the only option available to me is gun and the only enemy is other people, and that uhhhhhh doesn’t work for me

#like. say i procure some dnd ass weapon and it’s the real deal #how on gods green earth am i gonna train to use it to get anywhere even Close to how fighters are meant to use that weapon #and furthermore what the fuck would i use it on #i don’t think i’m legally permitted to go hunting with a morning star #also i don’t ever want to cause unnecessary pain and suffering in regular ass animals OR people #but hrng. sword

[tisfan]

I’ll Do

for @gilajames request: Doom/Tony happy ending, arranged marriage (could be historical setting, go nuts). Would love to see Pepper and Rhodey as supportive characters.

Summary: Tony Stark must marry for the good of the galaxy. He’s always known that, and he doesn’t resent it now. Love was never on the menu... 

But he expected more than a flippant “He’ll do” and to not meet his betrothed until after the ceremony.

Rating: Mature for language.  Warnings: None Tags: Arranged marriage, sci-fi AU, bargains and deals

I’ll Do

Finally, Tony thought.

He’d been awakened at dawn for a bath and a little bit of breakfast. He dressed in the ceremonial uniform and didn’t even mention how many fittings he’d been subjected to, in order to get to this point. His hair was freshly cut, perfectly styled and gelled within an inch of his life. Laser swords couldn’t get through the shellac on his head. God, it was giving him a headache. His hands had been scrubbed clean of grease, nails trimmed. 

And that was just today.

The last four months had been nothing but formality after formality, getting the arrangements and the contracts, preparing the building to welcome his royal highness, getting Tony ready to be worthy of the marriage.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know he was expected to marry for politics. He wasn’t blind or stupid. Love wasn’t anywhere on the menu for a Founder’s child.

But he wasn’t expecting to be married off to the sovereign of another planet.

When the alliances had been signed, Von Doom was given a packet on each of the eligible brides and grooms, had looked through them absently.

“He’ll do,” Von Doom had said, before departing again for months.

He’ll do.

Not exactly a stunning recommendation, but it didn’t matter. Tony was raised to be politically astute; he was a leader and an innovator and the son of one of the richest Founders in the Manhattan Nebula. He brought more than good looks to a marriage contract.

And Von Doom brought armies, which the Nebula’s people desperately needed. They were under attack by Titans, they needed alliances and soldiers, ships and weapons, if they were going to survive.

Doom had all of those in spades.

But now, all the waiting was over.

Tony was going to march down that aisle, make his vows, and take control of his life. Training was over, it was time to put it to use. He’d never even met his spouse-to-be, had no idea what the man looked like under the armor.

It didn’t matter.

Anything had to be better than the waiting.

“You look beautiful,” Pepper said. She was dressed in a similar dress that matched his uniform, somewhat less ornate and a darker color to indicate her position as his attendant.

“So do you,” Tony told her, because that was true. Rhodey grumbled behind them. Bodyguard and brother, friend and mentor.

It had been part of the arrangement. Tony would marry Von Doom and go home with him to the main planet in the Latverian System, but he was getting his entire staff to go with him, of whom these two were the most vital and important. They even had their own cabins on the wedding ship.

Tony tried not to think of the fact that Rhodey would be the next room over during the consummation; if the whole thing was a set up, murdering the new bride or groom on the wedding night was almost a cliche. 

He didn’t particularly want to get strangled on his wedding night, either before or after the consummation, but he was pretty sure that Rhodey listening in was going to be damn humiliating.

Well, maybe Rhodey would take it as a duty, as he did many things, and not give Tony grief about it later.

He glanced at Rhodey hopefully. Nah, probably not.

“Are they ready in there?” Tony wondered.

“You’re the one we were waiting on,” Rhodey said. “Are you ready?”

“Waiting on you now,” Tony said. 

Pepper signaled the musicians to start playing and the child -- Tony thought the kid might have been Rhodey’s niece or something, adorable little thing that she was -- started down the aisle, throwing flower petals with more enthusiasm than accuracy.

Pepper took Tony’s arm, patting his hand reassuringly. “I’m sure your husband will be a very nice man.”

“I hope not,” Tony said. “We need him to win a war. Soldiers are usually kind of assholish.”

Pepper scoffed. “Behave for once in your life.”

“No? I mean, what even kind of remark is that? To have and to hold, richer, poorer, as long as we both shall live, that’s the deal, right?”

“You are aware that the previous king had like eight wives, right?”

“It’s your job to make sure Von Doom doesn’t kill me until after the war is won, at least,” Tony said.

Finally, he got up the aisle with not too many flower petals sticking to his ankles.

Von Doom was wearing his armor. And a great, green cloak. And a mask.

“I didn’t know this was a masked occasion,” Tony said. “Are we sure it’s Von Doom under there?”

“As long as his seal is on the marriage forms, I don’t care if it’s one of his doombots under the cloak.” That was Rhodey, smoothing out Tony’s veil as they came up to the altar. 

“I care,” Tony shot back. “I don’t want to marry a stand in. Are you a stand in?”

Somehow, even masked and caped and armored, Von Doom managed to look affronted. All Tony could see of him were a pair of amber colored eyes behind the mask. “It is I, Victor Von Doom.”

“Great,” Tony said, running off at the mouth because that’s what he did when he was nervous. “Nice to meet you at last, Vickie.”

“Tony--” Rhodey hissed, kicking him in the shin.

“What? It’s too late to back out now,” Tony said. “I mean, the recommendation was never stellar or anything, but I’ll do.”

Von Doom turned his attention to the ceremonial officiant. “Begin.”

Tony was instructed to join hands with his husband-to-be -- who was wearing armored gauntlets. Tony scowled and summoned his nanobots. If his husband didn’t want to touch him, that was fine, but damned if he was going to be the vulnerable one in this situation. His own armor encased just his hand and wrist, enough to protect skin from Doom’s armor, and enough to demonstrate that he was entering this marriage as an equal, not a supplicant.

He didn’t bother to pay attention to what the officiant was saying; as Rhodey said, it was only Tony’s seal that mattered.

Not any vows they took here; all the actual enforceable rules had been put in place before they even walked in the door.

It didn’t take long, not really. But every second seemed to matter, and Tony was completely aware of his new husband watching him from behind that mask.

“I pronounce you wedded,” the officiant said.

“You gonna take that off and kiss me, or is this just a paper marriage?”

Doom snapped his fingers and the room went… fuzzy somehow.

Privacy tech. 

“No one may see Doom’s face,” Doom said. 

“That’s going to make it hard to kiss you.” He could hear it as the face-shield retracted, but all he could see was a pale blob. Von Doom was likely to be old, probably ugly. Maybe. Tony didn’t really know, and obviously would not be finding out.  Too bad. Not reall unexpected. Political marriage. Within a turn, both of them would have their personal lovers housed somewhere in the royal palace, just another service provided.

“Do you never cease speaking?”

“Rarely,” Tony confessed. “It’s not the only flaw I have, but I’ll do, I suppose.”

“You were never meant to hear that,” Doom said. “And if you keep talking, it is going to make this very difficult.”

“Wha--”

And Tony was kissed.

His husband, whose face he still didn’t know, whose name he’d just learned, leaned in and kissed him, sweet and achingly tender. Gentle lips pressed on his, and then a questing tongue pleaded for entry. Tony opened his mouth, more in shock than consent, but when Victor’s tongue slid in, he was entirely eager. The kiss was searingly hot, dangerously delicate. Desperate and needy and urgent, and for a moment, Tony was convinced that he was being kissed by someone who could -- and maybe even would -- love him.

It was everything he could have asked for in a kiss.

His knees were a little wobbly by the time Victor let him go. The mask slid into place and the privacy shield retreated.

No one in the audience hall acted like anything was amiss.

“We will go now.”

“No party?” Tony wondered.

“Wedding breakfast,” Rhodey reminded him. “Consummation now, before you leave the planet.”

Tony took a breath. Great. Fucking someone he couldn’t see. That was going to be exciting. Maybe he could just lay there and think of Manhattan.

“Look, this just isn’t going to work for me,��� Tony said, as soon as the door closed behind them, trying desperately to ignore the reality of the bed in the exact center of the room (at least it didn’t have a headboard they were going to slam against the wall for everyone to hear).

“What is not?” Victor asked, pushing the hood of his cloak back. The mask was still on, but now Tony could at least see that he had dark grey hair, shot with white. That didn’t necessarily mean that he was old. Different races had different color schemes, he supposed. Half the people he’d met weren’t even human.

He wasn’t sure if Victor was or not.

“Not knowing what you look like.”

“Does it matter? If I am fair or foul, old or young. I am still your husband, and we are now bound together, by marriage as well as by treaty.”

“Sure,” Tony said. “We’re married, that’s great. I mean, I know all the shit I’m supposed to know to be mannerly and a good diplomat. I probably won’t do any of it, but I’m well trained. I can be your husband. Without having a damn clue what you look like.”

“I sense a conundrum,” Victor said. He took the cloak off, and the matching green robe underneath it to reveal something that looked fairly similar to an earth suit. Jacket, slacks, vest. 

“I suppose it depends what you want out of a marriage,” Tony said. “You want just the political shit, sure, I’ll go on my knees and take it up the ass for god and country. Once.”

“All right?”

“But that’s it. One consummation. One time. Once. Never again. You don’t own my body any further than that treaty says you do.”

“Unless I show you my face,” Victor suggested.

“I’m not promising anything more if you do,” Tony said. “But it doesn’t seem fair, or equal, or anything like an actual relationship. You know what I look like.”

“That does not mean that I know you, Anthony Stark Von Doom,” Victor said. “I know you have dark hair and brown eyes and a somewhat crooked nose. With freckles. But it tells me nothing about you. Who you are as a man, a person, a soul.”

“My nose is just fine, thanks awfully,” Tony muttered.

“So, perhaps, we should make additional requirements,” Victor said. “You will know my face, and I will know your mind.”

“How do you propose doing that?”

“If it is a bargain we strike, not being nations, but between men,” Victor said, “then you will join me, every day we are able, for a meal. Alone. And we will talk. I will ask questions, and you will answer them. Or you can ask-- I will learn just as much about you from what is important for you to ask. And I will answer.”

“Take turns?”

“Indeed. No lies.”

“We have an accord,” Tony said.

“Very well, then, my husband,” Victor said. He reached up and pressed his fingers to the joins under the mask and it popped free of its mooring. The strange flittering cloud surrounded him, concealing him. “I agree. And when I feel that I know you--”

“You’ll show me your face.”

“And you may decide if you wish to come to my bed again,” Victor said. “But tonight--”

“No one may see Doom’s face,” Tony grumbled. “I know.”

Victor took Tony’s hand, brought it to his lips. “In darkness, everyone looks the same.”

#IronDoom #Tony Stark x Victor Von Doom #Tony Stark #Victor Von Doom #Tony Stark/Victor Von Doom #arranged marriage au #science fiction au

[mikkock]

Hey hi your murder mystery art is super totally cool and amazing and I'd like to Extra! Extra! hear all about it *rattles bells*

haha wow i cant believe ud ask me THIS! unbelievable! now im gonna have to make a long post!

all info under the cut cause im kind like that ♥

For reasons I felt like making a Fancy Ass murder mystery story, with you know, hella complex secret storylines and everyone having drama and shit, and one person died but the more the story goes the less people care about who did the murder and the more they want tHE JUICY DETAILs. X and Y had an afFAIR you say!!! well that’s thousands time more interesting than that murder that happened, who cares about the culprit its not like any of us are going anywhere anyway! tell me more about the marital issues!

The ultimate Vibes are Clue (the game, ya kno, it had a movie too, and that movie was shot with three different endings -fun fact- so that movie theatres could play one alternatively that way people wouldnt get spoiled or even if they did they would not get the ending they were spoiled or even if all three were spoiled you couldnt know which ending you were getting anyway, big dick move, cause its an old movie and film is expensive, also that movie stupid and campy, ALSO I ONLY LEARNED MAKING THIS AU THAT IN ENGLISH THE GAME’S CALLED “CLUE” wE CALL IT CLUEDO therefore my wip playlist is called cluedo. because. fuck it.)(i just have an emotional attachment to that game i even had a cd rom video game version and it was the spookiest shit for a 6 years old, trust me, i played it so much tho i didnt even understand the rULES i was just making scenarios like gathering the characters in rooms n making conversations outloud cause honestly the banter is the best part of a murder mystery) ANYWAY that sure is a whole paragraph of tangent. 

BUT YE the inspo from the Clue game. you can tell it from the Colours obviously, everyone’s colour codded.(even everyone’s name is colours as well you’ll see it’s real dang fancy! im just remaking that game but with 2932020 characters and more behind the scenes drama and also for gay people.)

So BASIC PLOT!

Sir Belyy, the dude in white, is The Rich Powerful Respected Fancy Boss, and he throws a Fancy Reception Party with his closest friends and associates to celebrate the opening of a new branch of his business. All the lads gather in his wonderful little very isolated mansion in the middle of nowhere, like ok he got a death wish or something or he’s very trusting of his business partners, but not a good move, cause in the middle of the reception, as A Phat Storm Starts (for plot convenience, we going with a campy vibe if you couldnt tell), his body is found, it’s awful, there’s a killer on the loose! All the guests gather, and attempt to maybe contact the authorities, to not avail, since The Storm ya know, phone lines are Broken my dude. Its clear that the culprit is among them, since no one could have entered the house, or left it (cuz once again, ThE sTORm). And then it’s all about interrogating each other, distrust, alliances and betrayal, revealing one’s deepest secrets when they form an alibi and revealing someone else’s deepest secret for they could be a motive! Meanwhile there’s a dead body in the mansion just chillin there. 

.

So as I mentioned, I changed everyone’s name to be colour related (or ya know, food or flowers of that colour cause sometimes a colour in a language would not work as a name given the way names work in that culture all that jazz) which is the trippiest thing cause tHATS NOT YALLS USUAL NAMES but its fun (also changed so many ages hgfhs it was a trip)(still no one’s really old i guess i got boomerphobia). The “Cast” is clearly the most important part, and if ur a True “My OCs” Connaisseur (hdfghd the most useful skill to have, knowing *MY* Charactersdshgd) you may have recognised some faces and can already read some vibes and predict who will be progressing the plot and who will be yelling at people throwing accusations ghdfgd.

(god i wish i hadnt slacked off making the portraits of everyone in that AU i only have 3 tho that’s so sad so ill just make little sketches just cause <3 only text??? i got too many hoes with no attention span for that)

.

Sir BELYY (the one who dIEs lmao)

(bust shot missing the fact that this man is the tallest beefiest lad around)

Intimidating, powerful, composed, wealthy, carries the name of a family who has generations of control to it’s reputation, he’s The Man that hoes who believe in the economy wishes they were. As in, the “self made” man who only just happened to benefit from having a wealthy background to uplift his plans. In his youth, he wanted to prove his worth, seperated himself from his father, started a business, that business became big, then got attached to the family’s business, bam back to square one but with Reputation now. There seemed to be VERY big tension between him and The Father, some speculate it had to do with his unknown mother, and some family drama there, and it never got resolved as old man Belyy died quite young (the jUICY speculations are that current sir Belyy mURDEREd old man sir Belyy, fucked up if true!). People love him though in general, as he has that reputation of “Cold Lad With a Gold Heart” aka he takes people under his wings, donates, doesnt treat his employees like the absolute worst garbage etc... you know, he’s rich and a half decent person, so obviously he’s an angel on earth. But does it matter though, he’s dead! that’s the concept of the story!  

Mr.GRAY (the grey guest)(who could have guessed from the name)

He’s one of Sir Belyy’s oldest employees, and benefits from a high rank in the company. But, sadly for him, he’s been stagnating lately, as newer, youngest employees seem to have Belyy’s favours, and are his prefered associates for important tasks and positions. Therefore he has Some Bitterness, Some Salt, Some Distaste, some unbriddled but professionally muted hatred for Specific people in the company. He can be an antagonistic figure, but the amount of time he spent in Belyy’s circle grants him an immense quantity of information about the man, but mostly, about his business. Anything about the company’s history, dealings, operations, he’s aware of, either having been told of them, or having snooped around to obtain, immune to being questioned due to his legitimacy in the company.

Mr.LIM (the green guest)

Remember when it was said that Gray had beef with some employees cause they were younger and rose to high ranks faster than him and became Belyy’s favourite over him? Yeah well here comes the one he hates the most for that (ofc he’s belyys fave cuz he’s Mine <3) Our lad caught Belyy’s attention for his Exploits in like, em fancy high school tournaments of smart people, it’s a thing its ridiculous, making kids compete on Smart stuff for the pride of their schools n shit, well homie Lim got clout when doing that, and Belyy was extremely interested cause that kid’s main thing was how “this young lad got mad strategic skills tf are u a war general or smth how fancy”, and that’s a coveted skill for ruthless business. So as soon as the kid is an adult, bam, join the company my dude. And because he’s just that Cool n Sexy ofc he met the expectations Belyy had, and old man Belyy got attached cuz it do be such a young lad, a kid, mentally i am adopting. That’s how you get a youngas employee becoming the right hand man of one the phatest CEO in a few years, and even make your way into being a Good Lad on top of a business partner. And that’s how you get Gray to hate your ass too. Now though, fine lad with mad strategic skills, rising to power that fast, and even infiltrating Belyy’s private life? If I were Gray I’d call suspicion there’s surely some shady stuff going no way we’re just dealing with a nice fella who just happens to work good and be friendly to the boss right?

Herra MUSTA (the black “guest”)

Belyy’s newest butler, assistant, house keeper, he multitasks. His family has been tied to Belyy’s for generations, fullfilling roles of help, but also of confidents. He’s been the head butler since only a short time, after his mother passed, and as such is still “in training” you could say, despite having served the family his whole life. There are rumours going around that the contract tying his family to the Belyys may end on his generation and need to be resigned. He known the manor by heart, and carries all keys to any locked room (and mostly, The Master Key, cause in an old house, some doors may be locked beyond all still existing keys). He also knows secrets of the family that no one else knows, but good luck getting em out of him, he’s under contract not to divulge em bro.

Mr. HASSEL (the brown guest)

Belyy’s childhood friend. They grew up together, pictured their dreams together, sworn to flourish together, worked together when starting the company, and then Hassel felt he should create his own thing instead of depending on his friend’s existing wealth, and while Belyy’s business went wild, his never took off. They still stayed very close, despite the massive difference in wealth. Belyy considers him his closest friend, the one person he can trust (fucked if hassel did the murder lemme tell u). So of course, he’s still always invited to the Prestigious meet ups where’s he’s free to feel uncomfortably out of place amongst all the rich and powerful people that he could have been a part of had he had a tiny bit of luck and a small loan from a wealthy relative...People LOVE saying he’s still hanging out with Belyy so much to leech off his wealth, cause of course they do! His bestie status means he has a whole different brand of information of Belyy than his butler does, the Most Intimate Stuff, the Childhood Stuff. The Juicy stuff ya kno...But Bro Code, its all secrets...

Sir RUZH (the red “guest”)

Deep dive into Belyy’s personnal history, the man has many employees working at his house keeping it working, clean, ya know the vibe. They live on the premice, one has a kid who’s just a Joy to be around, all the employees just vibe with that lad, he’s just a born socialite you know? Belyy gets to meet the kid, and also hella vibes with him. And because human are influenced by their feelings, he gives the kid’s mum a bit of a preferencial treatment, in the tasks she fullfils and all, til he gives her an important-as mission, and then there’s an accident n mama dies, and now Belyy got guilt and there’s this kid who just Vibes. So naturally the move is to take the kid in, and play on how his vibes are just so clean, and raise him to be the Perfect Entertainer for guests, bam, its soft power propaganda, if everyone loves your now son’s vibes, they associate them with you too. And also that’s kind of a clean rep, the selfless man who adopted his employee’s son to not have him fall to the streets, how heartwarming. Not at all traumatising for the kid too I bet! But anyway now the lad is just the most charming young adult, mission accomplished. He’s always present at any reception, ready to work his people-pleasing magic, and then going back to a gigantic empty manor to wait for the next and curate the perfect vibes to meet the expectations of dad. On the plus side, he knows everyone, and those who don’t know him cannot wAIT to, he’s just got that aura ya know. People skills for miles, and the insider knowledge that comes with being the son of the CEO, all this hidden behind the personna of the fresh innocent bashful party lad. 

Dr.FEN (the pink guest)

Do not get mistaken by the title, he’s no doc, he will not diagnose you with anything, he just studied long enough to get the sexy title. Study in what? Haha. Nothing shady. Just toxicology. He’s a world reknown poison expert basically, that’s his main thing. Oh but don’t worry, of course studying substances that may kill people is only for finding out how to cure them from it of course. What brings him in this circle? Simple, Belyy may or may not have started to suffer some weird illness that no doctor has been able to find the source, let alone cure, of. Him and Dr.Fen had met previously on some event, cause some rich man also love flexing how smart they are and attending sciencey shit, and he was contacted as sort of a shot in the dark. The lad does know how to treat some things, maybe he can treat The Mysterious Unwellness, since no traditional doctor was able to. He knows science, he’s trustworthy, bam, you’re hired to work on My Case Exclusively. Thanks to this, Dr.Fen has access to the whole health history of Belyy and his family, to many mANY dangerous substances, and also has The Respect of the hoes at the party. He HAS a doctorate after all. Epitome of knowledge. And he’s a kind to people and he wears pink like dang how can you nOT pour your wHOLE trust in him. 

Sir MOREVITCH (the blue guest)

Youngest son of an affluent family, who used to be close the the Belyys. The two families fell slightly appart after the death of the previous head of the family on the Belyy side, as they do nOT vibe with the current one (well current, til the first night of the story ig). But, unbeknownst to all, one strong link had been kept, between the youngest of the Morevitch, who dislikes his family and wishes to emancipate himself from them while also assuring his depart will not throw him basically in the streets, and our beloved Sir Belyy, who also dislikes the Morevitches but loves to see the rebellious energy of the young one (and ya know, my enemy’s enemy’s my friend or however you say that). So Belyy’s basically offering tips and helping Morevitch plant himself safely out of his family’s grasp, but it’s all taking quite some time isn’t it, slow and steady is fine until your parents try to arrange a wedding to secure more political power, and suddenly it is all quite urgent that you escape that situation because No Thank You Parents I Do Not Want A Wife I’m Too Young And Also Huh <3 Stuff You Won’t Like Hearing For Sure <3. The people who know they’re working together also know that it’s a big point of argument between them, the difference in vision between “you have to go slow and steady to be safe” and “I have very limited time to get to that safety anyway so I gotta risk it” “hell no you cant i can’t follow through if we’re going that quick that’ll put me at risk and you’re family’s gonna send gunmen to take me down”. A mess, it’d be much quicker to just obtain a few million bucks out of nowhere and bolt for sure...

Mr.GANG (the orange guest)

Morevitch’s trusted assistant. He hears the concerns, he helps the secret businesses, he lies to the parents about the whereabouts, and mostly, he’s basically a budget spy. The lad got that talent where people just don’t notice him popping behind them and catching all their dirty laundry as they confess it to someone they trust, and he always manages to break into places, get the intel he was looking for, and escape, putting everything back into place as if no one was ever there (wonder where he got all those skills from damn!). But what he’s even better at is being sneaky not only to benefit his boss, but himself as well <3. If he can catch all the info in the world, go any places, nothing’s stopping him from playing double agent and also going behind Morevitch’s back. After all the assistant life isn’t the most glamourous and rewarding, who can blame him from going and using his talents to build his own little exit route, right? Everybody sort of knows he cannot be trusted, but also no one managed to really incriminate or stop him, and as much as he has tea on many people, no has it on him, but bet once found that would be heeeella juicy.

M.MOUTARDE (the yellow guest)(this one is straight up the name of the yellow player in the french edition of clue too when i say its my main vibe)

Moutarde was an influential celebrity. He had a big break acting in a movie that the whole country stanned so hard they basically turned the script into their national anthem (they would have if it was a true democracy where the people really decide), he was so handsome and elegant, everyone’s dream husband. And then the fame fiddled out because it’s how fame is, one moment you’re the sexiest dish on the table and the next someone brings in dessert and baam, its all about that fresh cake, and no one pays any mind to your delightful aroma anymore, you’ve gone cold, they had a bite, their interest is somewhere else. Belyy really admires his work though, and mostly finds his image fits with the brand of his company, therefore the two are working on a collaboration to make Moutarde a representative. This WOULD boost Moutarde’s reputation, for his ads would be displayed on every imaginable surface of the country, and it would also benefit the company cause being represented by thAT sexy motherfucker? clearly that’s a deal. The freshness of the partnership means Moutarde is a newcomer in the guests, a fresh face, with no reputation, no relationships, no unfair biases against him. He’s just the new handsome charismatic lad with a squeaky clean image. Emphasis on “image”. After all, no one really knows anything of his background, right?

Kun.LAWENDER (the purple guest)

Private investigator, very useful to be around at a party it’s almost like it was expected there’d be a body to investigate, he’s a very close associate of Belyy, as there’s nothing more important to business than investigating the rivals and finding dirt on them to make them fall through infamy. He’s not exactly the PI who goes look for justice to be served, he’s just here for cash bro. He’s got intel on everyone, and will only let it out if offered the right thing in return (money, or sometimes other pieces of very secret intel, trade is good). Wouldn’t advise letting him and Gang team up tbh but they probably wouldnt, as Lawender is really more of a lone wolf player, going on his own for himself. The one thing that negates his usefulness as a PI on an accidental crime of scene is that even if he knew the whole truth of the event he would not spit it out unless he benefitted from saying it. He sure is a polarising lad, but at the same time, an untouchable one, he’s too knowledgeable to be taken down. Rather than sneaky, he’s extremely observant, noticing the tiniest details and engraving them in his memory, ready to be linked up to other details to deduct the big picture. He’s the upfront tea gathered basically (as opposed to Gang’s shadow tea gathering if you will, they are similar forces but using opposite methods)(also one of em got a licence n the other does not hAH).

~~~~

Now the secrets, all of em have them. One of em at least got the secret of having KILLED Belyy that’s that. But that’s to be kept for later (for if i ever use this story for more than daydream material gfhjgh) bet you can imagine what some of em may be just out of Knowing what i do, from having seen the characters in other contexts, or just because you’re a genius and reading the character profiles immediatly lit up the bulbs in your head forming the perfect theory, props to you, mad genius.

Honestly my thoughts are just how lit of a game that would be, you get to pick one hoe (maybe sum are locked til u find their secrets for juicy purposes) and you do your invetigation using your character’s perks and disadvantages, and maybe there could even be Multiple scenarios and outcomes, to spice it up, give replay value, i just think it’d be a game id spend hours on. tryin to get the spicy details of everyone’s life. walking around n digging through a rich man’s stuff, witnessing the drAMA of people fighting cause they’re locked in with a murderer and that’s stressful ngl. That or a long ass show @ netflix wanna give me a show maybe? give me hella budget we’re making it animated cause im too cultured for live action. 

whatever i make of it though, i hope i can make this story Flourish, just so that i can lay down all those secret backstories i’ve written. i want the satisfaction of throwing out the craziest secret drama between character n seeing peeps loose their minds, it just is a tasty experience.

also i gotta say, i plug the hell out of Clue for an inspo but when i was building the basics of the story my mind immediatly went “oH MY GOD THE VIBES,, THE BACKSTABBING AND tEAMING UP and all,,, its The Genius, that one tv show where peeps have to do the wildest games that require strategy n they’re in that fancy set that looks like a rich ppl mansion oh god the vibes” so yeah, i rewatched the whole first two seasons cause they’re my faves and that had an impact if only minimal in the aesthetic.

Anyway hope that quick presentation gave you a lil taste of the story, and maybe,,,, got you curious,,, craving to learn more like you never did before (im exaggerating the only real question we all got is just “so who’s fuckin with whom then how many of yall secretly dating” this the real deal)

#doodlin every lad's face at one rly be like 'welcome to the cheekbone festival' #they got antti AND said at once like the cheekbonage is out of this world! #that's musta n gang btw #also every single time i draw cream (blue lad) im like 'i havent drawn u in ages' n it isnt #that i dont draw him much anymore #but that ive drawn only this bitch for months back in the days #him bein in this without his lover....criminal #cuz his boo wouldnt fit a murder mystery au like #hoes would find the corpse he'd just be like 'welp on that imma go to bed aight bye' #anyway u can tell which of my ocs i simp for v easely #like fr #they the ones i spend the longest drawfigfdj cuz i draw em n then go 'not hot enough do it again' #a struggle! #anyway the secret is that i prepares a motive AND an alibi for all of em #so that i can pick who murdered belyy at the last moment <3 #its all abt the contextual clues on the scene of crime <3 #none of the drama tells u anything its all for the treat of gossip <3 #sad part of this project is how much ive planned n written yet i can barely tell anythin if i want to make it #n ive drawn nothingbhd #i hav a dari n a weiwei in their coloured clothes lookin handsome cuz ofc i do #im predictable i have faves #ask if they're in love in this one too take a fuckin guess #u rly think hoe going to his boss's house so much to see the ceo ???? HAH #the real question isnt if theyre smooshin we all kno that answer the question is if dad white suit knows thATs whats important #are yall secret lovers or is green boy climbing the ladder of the company cuz he's smashing the boss's son #who knows #i do i aint telling pay me

[krizaland]

I don’t know if your doing requests right now but I really like your stories and I was wondering if you could do an Autistic!Reader x Zim story. I headconon that defective Irkens are similar to neurodivergent humans and I think it would be interesting to see Zim compare how the reader is treated and how he is treated and to start questioning the Empire.

OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS REQUEST SO MUCH HOLY SHIT!!

I’ve always headcanoned Zim as autistic so I fucking love your headcanon! 

I’m Autistic myself so I have a super sweet chapter story in mind for this one!

I’ll admit, I got a little too self indulgent on this one but that’s because I wrote it from the bottom of my heart.

Be warned: This fic is loosely based on my middle school days so this fic deals with Ableism and includes the R slur!  

With all that out of the way, enjoy the fic!

From the day you were old enough to think, you never felt like you belonged. Everyone always seemed either one step ahead of you or one step behind you.

Everyday your parents would smother you with their high expectations and they would always look down upon you when you couldn’t meet them.

One minute you were praised for your intelligence the next minute you were mocked for not liking the feeling of jeans constricting your waist.

You always saw the world differently than everyone else. Most people assumed you couldn’t do anything right when in reality you simply had your own way of doing tasks.

People always assumed you were an idiotic child. Nobody ever bothered to get to know the real you.

Eventually you begun to believe that there really was something wrong with you. You begun to give up on trying and just wished you could end it all.

The only thing keeping you alive was your ever-growing collection of various toys and stuffed animals.

In truth, your toys felt like your only friends. They never judged nor mocked you. They listened to what you had to say and were always there to offer you a hug when you needed one.

Things only got worse as you got older.

You were forced into social skills classes where they tried to force you to be ‘normal. They forced you to wear unflattering and uncomfortable clothes. They told you to stop talking about your ‘childish’ interests. They even tried to take your toys from you.

But none of those classes worked.

The kids in skool still laughed and mocked you. In fact it seemed the bullying only got worse the harder you tried to fit in.

You tried to eat the revolting cafeteria food but nearly had a meltdown from how awful it tasted.

You tried to ask questions in class but your questions were always called stupid.

You tried to talk about what your peers were into but they wanted nothing to do with you.

However, there was one kid who seemed to understand you.

And his name was Zim.

Zim seemed just as lost and confused as you were.

He often asked ‘stupid’ questions in class and would run off screaming at the mere sight of beans.

He would even sometimes come to skool covered in meat or wearing some kind of ridiculous outfit.

Zim came off as pretty apprehensive at first. Much like you, it seemed as if he didn’t want anyone to bother him.

At first, you assumed he was bullied for his green skin. After all, that Dib kid kept calling him an alien and whatnot.

You always left Zim alone but you did stick up for him whenever Dib was being a jerk.

You would often sit by yourself and try to enjoy some peace and quite before a bully would saunter your way.

However, one fateful day, something wonderful happened.

You sat down at you usual lunch spot and pulled out the lunch you brought from home.

You were about to take a bite when

“Hey! Where did you get that sandwich from?!”

The sound of Zim’s voice made you almost drop your sandwich.

“Oh! Um, I brought it from home?” You stuttered as you caught your sandwich.

“Eh?! You can bring in food from…home?” Zim asked as he inspected your sandwich.

“Of course you can! If you don’t like the cafeteria food then you can always bring something from home! I think…” You explained as you took a bite of your sandwich.

“Huh, so there are no repercussions for bringing outside food and beverages?” Zim’s eyes lit up a bit.

“Nope. None that I know of.”

“Fascinating…” Zim let out a small chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” You grimaced as you put down your sandwich.

“Oh it’s nothing. Nothing at all.. Hey, wait a minute…You’re that Y/N-beast who always defends me from Dib aren’t you?”

“Well I-”

“Aren’t you?!”

“Well I-”

“Aren’t you?!”

“Well I-”

“AREN’T YOU?!”

“YES! I AM Y/N!” You snapped.

“Geez! You don’t have to shout.” Zim huffed.

“Sorry, I get annoyed easily.” You sighed as you resumed easily.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. Humans can be so irritating.” Zim agreed as he sat down next to you.

“I know right? Like I don’t understand why people are always so mad at me! It’s not my fault that I’m not perfect!” You ranted as you kept eating.

“Right?! Humans have such a complicated social structure! It’s almost impossible to keep with with all of these…’trends’.” Zim agreed as he watched you eat.

You and Zim spent the rest of lunch exchanging stories and even cracking jokes about how weird humans were.

From that day forth, you and Zim formed a friendship of sorts.  

You and Zim would always sit together at lunch and recess.

You never seemed to run out of things to talk about!  The only thing that ruined your fun was Dib barging in and screaming about Zim being an alien.

Of course, you would always defend Zim. Hell, at one point you nearly tackled Dib to the ground to stop him from throwing a burrito at Zim’s head.

It wasn’t long before Dib became convinced that you were an alien too.

“Lack of social skills, often staring off in the distance, and now they’re talking with Zim?! Y/N is totally an alien, Gaz! I bet they’re another Irken monster in disguise!” Dib ranted as he watched you and Zim chat.

“Be quiet, Dib.” Gaz grunted as she continued to tap away at her GameSlave.

“I’ve got to do something! I can’t let these two aliens get away with..whatever it is they’re trying to do!” Dib growled as he slammed his fist onto the table.

The next day, you discovered that Zim was absent! You felt you heart sink a bit but continued on with your day nonetheless.

When lunch rolled around, you sat in your usual spot and picked at your food.

“Where’s your little friend today, Y/N?”

The sound of Dib’s smug voice didn’t faze you in the slightest.

“What do you want, Dib?” You grumbled as you kept picking at your food.

“I want you and Zim to stop trying to destroy the Earth! That’s what!” Dib snapped a finger in your face.

“What are you talking about? I don’t want to destroy the Earth.” You grunted as you backed away from Dib’s finger.

“You don’t fool me! I know what you are! You’re an Irken Invader! Just like Zim! You might have a better disguise but I see right through you! You’re nothing more than a space monster! And I’m gonna put a stop to your evil schemes!” Dib rambled as he slammed his hands onto the table.

You let out a yelp at the sudden smack and cradled your lunch.

“Oh don’t try to act all innocent, space scum!” Dib snarled.

“I’m not acting! And I’m not an alien either!” You countered as you started to pack up your lunch.

“Do you think I’m stupid?! It’s sooo obvious you’re an alien! You have no social skills, you’re always making these weird little…humming noises when you talk, you even have an adverse reaction to cafeteria food!” Dib explained as he adjusted his glasses.

“None of that stuff makes me an alien, Dib!” You huffed as you got ready to move to a different spot.

You were about to leave when Dib grabbed your wrist.

“You’re not going anywhere! Except on the front page of crop circles magazine!”

You let out a scream at the sudden contact. Your breathing grew heavy as you could feel every germ from Dib’s grimy hand slither onto your wrist.

“LET GO OF ME! LET GO OF ME!!” You screeched as you tried to break out of Dib’s iron grip.

“Not on your life, space monster!” Dib cackled as he tried to pull you down.

“Look, Dib’s trying to fight the retarded kid!” A random student cried out.

It wasn’t long before the cafeteria erupted into thunderous laughs and jeers. Some kids even pulled out their phones to record the carnage.

You let out a blood curdling shriek and managed to shove Dib off of you.

Before he could react, you ran off into the hallway with tears pouring down your cheeks.

You zipped into the restroom and locked yourself in a large stall.

“Why couldn’t Zim be here?! He wouldn’t let this happen!” You wailed as you slid down to the floor.

Little did you know, that Zim had watched the entire fiasco from the comfort of his lab and he was practically boiling with rage.

Zim was trying to work on his latest experiment but he wanted to check up on you and see how you were doing.

He didn’t expect to see you being abused and mocked in the lunchroom!

And that word “Retarded”… it made Zim’s squeedilyspooch churn.

“Computer, what does…retarded..mean.” Zim almost vomited as the word fell from his mouth.

“Retarded. Short for mental retardation, often used as a slur against those with intellectual disabilities.”

Zim felt his eye twitch at the definition.

“I knew it..” Zim’s words dripped with venom as his breathing grew heavy.

That awful, horrible word! Zim could already feel a negative memory resurface.

While he was never called retarded, he was called a defective.

His mind traveled back to his training days at The Academy.

“Hey look! Stink is trying to fight the Defective!” Skutch called out.

Sure enough, Zim and Stink were already in an all out brawl.

Zim tried to fight back, only to have Stink quickly overpower him.

By that point, a crowd had formed and they were already howling with laughter.

“Wow! He’s so defective he couldn’t even fight Stink!” Skutch mocked.

Skutch’s comment earned him another round of mocking laughter.

Zim was left a battered mess on the floor, barely unable to open his eyes.

“MASTER!”

The sound of his computer snapped Zim back to the present.

“Master! There was an error in the experiment chamber!”

“Scrap that experiment! I have a new plan in store….” Zim’s voice was a low growl as he typed away at his keyboard.

Next

#invader zim #invader zim x reader #autistic reader #Anonymous

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

write to me

Request: Can you write a one-shot of Clem having another dream with Lee, but then Louis joins them because he died?

Read on AO3 

 Summer evenings, just as the sun is starting to set, have a distinct smell. Once the earth begins to cool, the faint breeze holds an earthy floral scent, sweet and nostalgic in the way it fills her lungs.

With her back pressed against the enormous oak tree, the one adorning the tire swing, Clementine tilts her head back to admire the golden glow of the sky. Stretching her legs out along the soft green grass, she wiggles her toes and sighs at the freeing feeling of naked feet. Her sundress, a yellow cotton lacking sleeves, flows around her, soft and clean.

A harsh burst of wind ruffles her curls and cools her warm cheeks, sending goosebumps along her bare arms.

It’s peaceful here, more so than anywhere else, she thinks as she watches the tire swing sway with every warm breath of wind.

“This is a nice change.”

Lee leans against the tree, admiring the swing with her.

“Much better than the train,” he adds with a smirk.

“I think so,” she smiles.

Lee inhales deeply, rolling up his sleeves as he moves to sit beside her with a small huff. Clementine scoots closer to him, resting her temple against his shoulder.

“How you doin’?” he asks. “With everything?”

She glances down at her legs, spreading her toes out again.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s a lot to handle at once.”

Clementine closes her eyes, linking her arm with his and whispering, “It hurts. All of it.”

“I know it does.”

Lee pulls his arm away to wrap it around her shoulders, pulling her into a side hug.

“You’re alive, though. That’s all that matters.”

While the safety of his embrace calms her, it does nothing to lessen the tight squeeze around her heart, like a hand whose fingertips dig in deep enough to break through. It’s a pain that causes her exhaling breaths to shake, teetering on the line of a mere quivering chin and a desperate, broken sob.

“By the way, can I just ask-” Lee says, catching her attention. When she peers up at him, he’s staring forward with a curious brow perked. “-why purple?”

She follows his gaze to the unfinished mansion, so enormous it surpasses the clouds, seemingly neverending. It’s only partially painted, most of it remaining an off-white color while the rest a is the loveliest shade of royal purple she’s ever seen. When the setting light hits it just right, it’s intensity becomes breathtaking.

“Don’t see a lot of purple houses,” she says quietly, a small, woeful small tugging at her lips. “Why not stand out?”

Lee chuckles, the laughter rumbling against her, easing the tension she feels within herself.

“Yeah, guess that’s true. But, what about all those floors? The rooms? It’s gonna take him a long time to finish it,” Lee grins, pulling back to fully look at her. “He hasn’t stopped talking about it, you know. Got it all figured out. He’s been tellin’ me all his plans for this one floor with nothin’ but pillows on it.”

That gets a real laugh out of her, the giggles erupting to where she has to cover her mouth.

“God, of course.”

“And I asked him, ‘What in the hell do you need with a whole floor of pillows for?’”

“Swear,” she teases, pointing up at him.

“Oh, c’mon-”

“Swear!”

Lee shakes his head, chuckling harder and continuing, “Anyway, he goes, ‘How else are we supposed to build the best, most awesome pillow fort conceived by man?’ Then, he threw a pillow at me.”

“He what?”

“Threw it right at me and hightailed it outta there! That kid...” Lee looks at her, his smile softening. “He told me he’s gonna put in a skylight, too. After he’s done building your tree house, of course. Got a lotta work ahead of him.”

The fist tightens around her aching heart, damn near bringing tears to her eyes as she looks away from him, down at her hands. Her fingers curl, nails biting into her palms as she attempts to control herself.

“Clementine?”

“It’s not fair, Lee.”

He’s silent, all the laughter inside him gone, replaced with a knowing, sympathetic sigh.

“It never is, sweet pea. Losin’ someone like that… it cuts deep. Hurts a long time. But, you’ll come to accept it, just like you always do. Like you did with your parents, with me.”

“I just thought I finally had someone,” she whispers. “Someone who’d hold me, kiss me and tease me and make me laugh, I-” her voice breaks, breath shuddering as her eyes burn, “-I thought he’d- he just- I didn’t even get to-”

Lee hugs her again, his warmth enveloping her as he rubs her back in soothing motions.

“I know, Clem. I know.”

The sorrow, the guilt, the anger, all a dangerous concoction boiling over in her blood and flowing through her veins consumes her.

“He misses you, too.”

A cool breeze stings the hot tears dripping over her cheeks.

“Talks about you more than he does the damn house.”

Lee nudges her, worry furrowing his brow as he stares down at her teary eyes and distraught pout. She buries her face into her hands, hunching over and trembling.

“He deserves to be with the rest of us. Not- not… If I had just- had just stopped Minerva, then maybe we could’ve snapped Tenn out of it and-”

“You can’t change what happened, Clementine,” Lee’s frown deepens as he eyes her. “It’s okay to feel like this. Hell, I don’t think you’d be human if you didn’t. But, blaming yourself, and blaming Tenn, doesn’t change the fact that he’s gone. And you can’t be mad at him for saving Tenn’s life. That’s not fair, not to yourself, not to Tenn, and definitely not fair to Louis.”

Clementine’s silent.

The branches above her rustle, a sound that’s almost pacifying. Dark green leaves fall, landing on her dress and bare legs.

She feels Lee nudge her, and when she looks at him, he’s gazing back at the mansion with a wide, knowing grin.

From around the corner, carrying a paint can and a roller, Louis appears.

Her breath hitches.

He’s whistling a tune, dreads pulled back out of his face. His jeans roll up over his calves, purple staining them, his shirt, his hands. He’s barefoot, strolling through the grass with a calm, content smile on his lips.

He stops to set everything down with a huff, kneeling to pour the paint and coat the roller. Clementine watches him continue working where he left off, presses the purple everywhere he could reach. Her pulse flutters at the beautiful sound of him singing to himself.

“...The summer dream behind the eye, and it's the sleep that makes me alive…”

She lets out a shaky breath.

“...The sudden ease when you arrive…”

Beside her, Lee shifts around, pulling himself back to his feet.

“...And it's you, that makes me try.…”

He picks off stray leaves, grinning down at her with an encouraging smile.  

“Go.”

She blinks up at him before turning to watch Louis again, stretching up on his tippy toes to try and cover as much as he can in the lovely royal purple.

“Go to him, Clementine.”

She’s standing, brushing down her dress and running her fingers through her thick curls, attempting to be presentable. Her throat’s gone dry, still in disbelief that she’s seeing Louis only a few feet away from her, still singing and wholeheartedly painting their dream home.

The home, for those short seconds, she had imagined them living in.

Imagined them building it together, laughing and chasing each other around with dripping paintbrushes, flinging the globs of purple through the air in a paint war.

And when the war ended and they were laying on the ground beside one another, panting and grinning like complete fools, she’d lean over him. She’d wipe paint off his cheek and kiss him, light presses of their mouths moving together the way they were meant to.  

But-

But now that’s nothing but a fantasy.

“We’ll talk later, sweet pea. I promise,” Lee says, catching her attention. “He’s been waiting to see you.”

With that, Lee pulls her into one last hug before turning on his heel back towards the mansion. She raises her hand to shield her eyes from the blinding sunset, watching him move around to the other side and out of sight.

Her focus goes back to Louis, turning so that the sun presses against her back. With every step she takes, her heart thumps louder, harder, pulsating through her entire body.  

He’s there, truly there, smiling that smile of his that she loves so damn much. With the glow hitting him just right, she can see every freckle kissing his skin, scattering long his nose and cheek, over his chest, his arms.

She stops, her foot nearly touching the paint can. Her mouth parts in search of words, but can’t find any. The longer she stares, most her insides swell with heavy, longing feelings. Feelings to reach out and touch him, prove that he’s really there.

He stops painting.

From the corner of his eye, he sees her and she feels that look shoot warmth through her.

He lowers the roller slowly, shifting himself around to face her, eyes widening and his grin spreading.

“You’re here,” Louis beams. “Come to check up on my big project, huh?”

“Louis,” she breathes out, nearly sounding on the verge of tears.

“It’s a work in progress, obviously,” he says, tossing the roller aside and stepping over the can towards her. “But it’s definitely coming along. But, I am starting to question the sanity of wanting over nine-hundred floors. At least the purple looks great.”

He plants his hands on his hips, quirking a brow at her. Clementine’s there in a matter of seconds, flinging herself against him and wrapping her arms around his waist tightly, proving to herself that he’s there.

“Louis,” she says again. “God, I- I missed you.”

Louis presses her fully against him, holding her and mumbling into her curls, “Missed you, too.”

Clementine peers up at his loving face, reaching up to touch the warmth of his cheek. She feels his hands grip her waist, brow becoming troubled.

“How’s your leg?” he asks.

“Better,” she grins. “I’m still in bed, but Willy and Omar found some crutches for me to use once I feel up to moving around. And Ruby brought the gramophone in for me to listen to.”

“How’s everyone else?”

“They’re still a little shaken up, but they’re handling it well. Violet’s eyes are still healing and the one is too damaged see out of. And, AJ’s been hovering over me most nights, making sure I’m okay. Aasim’s been there, too. He gave me a notebook as a ‘get-better-soon’ gift.”

“So, they’re all safe?”

“Yes.”

“You have no idea how good that is to hear.”

Louis kisses her, a quick press, there and back. He holds her again, pressing his face into her neck and sighing. She runs her hands along his back, in awe at how he feels, how warm he is. He grins, baring all his teeth.

“And, Tenn? How’s he doing?”

A cold tingle runs up her legs, her spine, killing her smile. She breaks their gaze, staring up at the unfinished mansion, remaining silent.

“Clementine.”

His voice, so soft, makes her chin quiver.

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t think like that.”

Her eyes snap back to his, watery and defeated.

“Louis,” she croaks. “You’re dead.”

His expression shifts first into one of shock before melting into one of despair, brows knitting together sorrowfully. He blinks fast, biting his lip and nodding slowly.

“I’m aware.” 

She pulls him by the nape of his neck and desperately presses another kiss to his lips, holding him there to savor the sensitive sensation. He angles his head, deepening the kiss and moving his mouth with hers in a way that nearly buckles her knees.

When he tries to pull away, she doesn’t let him.

“Clem-” he murmurs against her lips before she locks their lips once more.

Clementine kisses him the way she wished she had; passionate, lovingly, desperate. A kiss that could tell him everything.

“Stop-”

“No.”

His hands curl in the material of her sundress before sliding over her shoulders. When he finally breaks away, freckled cheeks flushed and lips parted in a silent gasp, sad lidded eyes staring down at her. She tries to kiss him again, but he leans away.

“Please,” she pleads, tightening her grip on him.

“Darling, look at me.”

Reluctantly, she does.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “But you’re strong, Clem. The strongest person I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, and you will get through this. You will forgive Tenn because he needs both you and AJ to become better, to teach him how to be brave and smart and a survivor, just like you guys. You have to be there for him. You can’t let me die in vain like that.”

Silent tears roll over her cheeks now as the words sink in.

“Think you can do that for me? Because I know you can.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“Don’t got much of a choice.” Louis points over to the horizon where the sun’s almost set. “It’s time to wake up.”

She shivers as an uncomfortable cooling sensation washes over her. She releases her hard grip on him, arms falling uselessly to her sides and neck weakening, allowing her head to fall forward to gaze down at their feet.

“I should be here with you, helping you build our home.”

She’s startled when he grabs her hands, bringing them close to his chest where she can feel his heart -oh god- beat hard and heavy, alive and real.

“Clementine, I need you to hear me, okay?” he says firmly. “You’re not allowed to stay here with me until I’ve got this entire house built, all nine-hundred and fourteen floors, all painted and all decorated, and let me tell you-” he smiles so damn desperately at her, squeezing her hands in his, “-that’s going to take a very, very long time.”

He presses her forehead to her, those dark eyes, so full of warmth, boring into her own.

“Do you understand?”

She sniffles, breaking his gaze and peering back at the mansion, her home. His fingers gently caress her chin, forcing her to look at him again before he presses another light kiss to her pink lips. He moves to her cheek, her forehead, the tip of her nose.

“Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to take that notebook Aasim gave you and I want you to write to me.”

“What?”

“Whenever you’re sad, lonely, scared, happy, sick, bored, whatever. I want you to open up that book and write to me, tell me everything. What’s been going on with you and the others, how AJ’s doing, what you ate for dinner that day. Tell me if we lose someone else, or even meet someone new. Tell me every snarky thing Violet said that day, every new thing Tenn has learned. Ask me questions about our home, about life, about Lee. Ask me anything you’ve ever wanted to know.”

He presses his palms against her flushed cheeks, thumbs brushing away her tears.

“And when you’re done writing, take the notebook and put it in the piano, right between the strings. That way, I’ll know where to find it.”

“Louis-” Clementine’s voice cracks. “You- you can’t-”

“I can, and I will,” he cuts her off, firmly. Then, he shrugs with a smirk. “I sneak in there when Lee’s not looking.”

The ridiculousness of that comment brings out a small, teary smile from her.

“Write to me, darling, and I promise I will read each and every single word.”

He kisses her one last time, lingering close ever after they part, slow and reluctant. So desperately she wants to grab him again, press their mouths together again and never let go, never leave him again.

But he pushes her away, holding firm to her shoulders and taking one last look over her. His fingers fall over her arms, down to her hands, until he finally let's go and steps back. She sees him blinking rapidly, swallowing thickly with a forlorn smile.

“Good-bye, Clementine.”

“Louis-”

She reaches out to him, but he turns his back to her, taking his first hesitant step away.

“Louis,” she calls again. “Wait-”

When he doesn’t acknowledge her, she finally says it.

“I love you.”

His shoulders slump as he comes to a stop.

His arm lifts, hand wiping at his face, his eyes.

His voice, small but tangled in emotion, shoots straight through her heart.

“I love you, too.”

Clementine watches him walk away, back over to the house.

Through her tears, her blurred vision, Louis fades away.

#twdg #twdg fanfic #twdg fanfiction #twdg clouis #clouis #twdg louisentine #louisentine #twdg louis #louis twdg #clementine twdg #twdg clementine #twdg lee #twdg aj #twdg tenn #twdg violet #twdg ruby #twdg aasim #twdg willy #twdg omar #clementine x louis #louis x clementine

[avengerscompound]

Bringing Home Kobik - 3

Bringing Home Kobik: A Winterhawk Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton

Word Count:  1505

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Smut on the series (M|M, oral, anal), the aftermath of torture, PTSD, mentions of child abuse

Synopsis:   When Bucky decides to try to get legal custody of Kobik he meets resistance due to him being a single man. Clint steps up as a co-parent to help with the process.

Art by @bexlie-draws

Chapter 3

Construction started on the new living quarters for Clint, Bucky, and Kobik immediately.  Bucky was shocked by how quickly Tony had agreed to it. It became evident when the construction started on the other side of the compound to the rest of the living quarters that Tony was scared having Kobik too near the others would be dangerous.  Bucky considered explaining to him that it didn’t matter where Kobik was located in the Universe that if she wanted to hurt you, you weren’t safe. In the end, he’d left it. It didn’t bother Bucky if he was away from the others. If Stark felt better having them away from everyone else, so be it.

Beside the way it was being set up looked like it might be possible to give Kobik a backyard of sorts and if she could play outside like a kid, with a swing set and a sandbox and chasing Lucky around, maybe she could just be a kid and not a cosmic cube that has the chance of changing all of existence on a whim.

Clint… was still a problem.  Bucky wasn’t thinking about much outside of what he needed to do to get Kobik to the tower and living with him.  All the usual things that kept him awake at night had just been smothered with this project. He would have assumed that those brief moments when he wasn’t thinking about Kobik, he would go to those dark places he always went to. His torture.  The way he was used as a weapon. Who he was now this had happened to him.

Instead, it was going to Clint.  Not just in that ‘I don’t quite understand why he is doing this’ way.  Which yes, that was happening a lot. Sometimes he just thought about what he was doing right now.  If he was hanging with Nat or practicing archery. If he was worried about what being a dad would be like.  What specifically being a dad to a personified cosmic cube was like. If he’d seriously fuck it up and end up destroying the world.  Sometimes he thought about the comment he made about buying him dinner first. If Bucky asked him out to dinner would he say yes? Did Bucky want to ask him out to dinner?  He’d not thought about sex or relationships since HYDRA got him, he thought that part of him was broken. Why on god’s green earth was he now finding himself thinking about dating Clint fucking Barton like that of all the people he’d met.

Sometimes he just thought about his arms.  Clint had great arms.

As the legal processing started to get closer to being complete, and it really looked like this was going to happen, Bucky with Steve’s help managed to get permission to visit Kobik where they were keeping her.

He dressed down.  Wanting to look like a dad, rather than a soldier or guy about to go to a hearing about his drunk driving charge.  He put on a henley and dark grey hoodie over jeans and tied his hair back. He took the Quin and stood quietly behind Steve as they let them through the layers and layers of security.  He just wanted to hit them upside the back of the head and yell at them. Tell them they were crazy if they thought they were safekeeping her down here like this? That this was exactly what you did to make sure no one was safe anywhere from her if they treated her like this.

He knew that if he did that he could kiss all hope of that little girl ever getting the normal life she needed and he desperately wanted for her.  So he just shut up unless directly spoken to and tried not to look like he wanted to murder every single person he came in contact with.

When they opened the door to the windowless room Kobik was being kept in he smiled the first genuine smile he had all day.  The room was not great but she did have toys and a TV with a collection of Disney movies on Blu Ray. Her bedspread was princess themed but in shades of blue and she sat coloring at a pink plastic table.  Her white hair was in two pigtails and when the door opened she looked over with a smile on her face that only got bigger and more full of love when she saw it was him.

“Bucky - Buckaroo!”  She squealed running over to him and flying into his arms.  He closed them around her and hugged her tightly spinning her around.  “Where ya been, Bucko?”

“They wouldn’t let me come see you until now.”  He said, his face buried in her hair. Bucky wasn’t really a crier.  He couldn’t even remember the last time he had cried. He felt like it now though.  Like all the stress of this whole process was about to bubble up and pour out of him right now.

When he put her back down he set his face into a warm smile though.  “I’m here now though. I think they’re gonna let you come home with me pretty soon.”

“Really?”  Kobik asked grinning up at him.  “Will I get my own room?”

“You sure will,”  Bucky said, crouching down next to the little girl.

“Will it have a window?”  She asked.

“Definitely,”  Bucky answered.  “And a yard. I’ll get you swings and a bike.”

“I don’t know how to ride a bike,”  Kobik said.

“That’s okay.  I’ll teach you.”  Bucky said. “Not everyone is good at everything right away.”

“I am,”  Kobik said simply.

Bucky nodded.  “Yeah, I know.”

“Will you be my dad, Buckaroo?”   She asked tapping him on the cheek with one of her small hands.

“Sure will.  You don’t have to call me that though.  Not if you don’t want.” Bucky said.

“I might want to.  Will there be a mom too?”  She asked.

“No.  Another dad though.  He’s why they’re letting me do this.”  Bucky explained. “You don’t have to call him dad either.”

“Who is it?”  Kobik asked narrowing her eyes.  She trained her sights on Steve who was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame.  “Is it him?”

“No, that’s my buddy, Steve.  He’ll be around though.” Bucky answered.  Steve waved at Kobik and she looked back at Bucky.   “The other guy’s name is Clint. He’s a little bit annoying.  But he has a dog and he likes to eat pizza.”

“He has a dog?”  Kobik asked, her eyes lighting up.

Bucky took out his phone and opened up a photo of Lucky.  “Yeah, his name is Lucky. Or maybe it’s pizza dog. I’m never sure.”

Kobik took the phone off Bucky and looked at the photo.  “He only has one eye.”

“Yeah.  He got into a fight looking after Clint.”  Bucky said.

“He’s brave like you.  You think he might want me to fix it?”  She asked.

“He might.  You’ll have to wait to meet him.  I bet he’ll like playing with you either way.”

Kobik held the phone up to Bucky.  “Is there a photo of Clint.”

Bucky nodded and flicked to another photo of Clint perched up on the edge of the couch.

“Doesn’t he know how to use a chair?”  She asked.

“I don’t think so,”  Bucky answered with a laugh.

“I’ll teach him.”

Bucky ruffled her hair.  “You can meet him soon. I promise.  You have to keep being good until then.  Have you been good?”

Kobik nodded enthusiastically.  “I didn’t even use my powers one time, even when they tell me I have to.  Just like you said.”

Bucky smiled and pulled Kobik into his arms, kissing the top of her head.  “Good, girl. Not too much longer, I promise.”

“Will you read stories to me?”  Kobik asked.

“Of course.   Every night.” Bucky said.

“Can you read to me now?”  She asked.

Bucky smiled and looked back at Steve who gave a quick nod.  “Sure. What do you want?”

“Figment?”  Kobik said jumping up and down and waving her hands over her head.  The comic book floated off the shelf and over to Bucky.

He smiled as he snatched it from the air.  “It’s been a long time since we read this one, huh?”

“It’s my favorite,”  Kobik said her eyes glowing as she floated off the ground in excitement.

“Powers, Kobik,”  Bucky said sternly.  She drifted back down and ran and jumped on the bed.  “I like it too. So let’s see what we remember.”

“You’re really good with her,”  Steve said as they headed back out of the facility.

Bucky shrugged.  “They were using her.  They still do. I can’t let it happen anymore.”

Steve shook his head.  “It’s not just that. You’re her dad, Buck.  It’s a good look on you.”

Bucky smiled and shoved his hands in his pockets.  “Thanks, pal.”

“I just hope Clint falls into it as easy as you do,”  Steve said with a shake of his head.

// NEXT

#bucky barnes #clint barton #hawkeye #the winter soldier #winterhawk #bucky barnes x clint barton #winterhawk fanfic #hawkeye fanfic #the winter soldier fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #bringing home kobik

[whatarubberchicken]

The Bodyguard’s Tale -Chapter 5

The sh*t hath hit-ith the fan... ith.

<<Previous - Ao3 or ff.net - Next>>

Chapter 5

It took two more days for the accursed heat—or rut or whatever, Keith had already decided he hated it—to run its course. That was two days of pain and longing and loneliness—Lance didn’t make another appearance, and when Shiro was able to come see him, he kept his visits short because Keith got more and more snappy as the days went by.

Finally, he was able to resume his duties, with no small amount of relief. (And maybe it was just his imagination, but Hunk looked relieved too. Apparently, Lance had been extra snippy as well.) To his surprise, Lance actually gave him the silent treatment for a whole day, even after Keith tried to apologize for what had happened.

The day after that, he went to the prince’s chambers, fully intending to clear the air. Nothing major, he could do this. He just had to explain that he hadn’t been in his right mind, and nothing they’d said or done should be—Wait, where was Lance?

He wasn’t in his room.

He wasn’t in any of his usual haunts in the castle.

“Lance?”

Keith was starting to get nervous. Had Lance actually been kidnapped? During his time here, he’d been led to believe that nobody hated the royal family and his job was purely for ceremony! Surely—

“Hey, Keith,” Shiro called cheerfully, strolling down the halls with another ambassador. Keith wasn’t sure if their name was really Pidge or something else, he couldn’t figure this person out. (But they were from Olkarion, so maybe that was the point? The Olkari did love their puzzles….) “I thought you were with Lance.”

“I’m looking for Lance,” Keith corrected. “Have you seen him?”

The two ambassadors shared an ‘eek’ look.

“He was heading for the space port,” Pidge said. “Said he was meeting you there.”

“Oh, quiznak.” Keith took off running. Once he got to the space port, he searched every passenger vehicle he could find, praying that Lance hadn’t gotten a note from somebody claiming to be Keith so they could kidnap him and—wait, weren’t those the new prototypes King Alfor was designing?

Keith paused in his search to look more carefully. Why was the blue one activated?

Blue just happened to be Lance’s favorite color….

He raced over and entered the giant blue lion (Alfor had said they were a tribute to some kind of ancient Altean lion god or something) just before the jaw snapped shut. Even though Keith had never been in a ship like this before, he somehow knew exactly where to go.

Sure enough, there was Lance, sitting in the pilot’s seat.

“WHAT do you think you are doing?!” Keith snapped, storming up behind him.

Lance looked surprised to see him. “Aww, Blue, why’d you let him in?”

“Are you talking to the ship?!”

“Of course,” Lance said, stroking the side of the chair lovingly. “My pretty girl is very sensitive, you know. Not everybody sees me as ‘just their job.’”

Keith facepalmed. “We’re not even going to delve into everything that’s wrong with that statement—just, get up, we’re leaving.”

“No way!” Lance said, settling himself deeper into the seat. “I was just getting a feel for her!” He grabbed the controls.

“Lance, this is a prototype that your father has been working on for decaphoebs!” Keith pointed out. “Even if he gave you permission to fly it, which he won’t, it’s not equipped for—”

The rest of his statement was cut off by a loud roar, and then Keith was forced to grab onto the back of Lance’s chair as the lion blasted off. Lance whooped with excitement as the space port dwindled away behind them. With so many loops and swoops, even without gravity, Keith was starting to get a little dizzy.

“You are the worst pilot ever!!” he yelled, his teeth jarring together as Lance grazed yet another asteroid. “Did you even take a class on how to fly one of these things?!”

“Of course not!” Lance shouted back, not an inch of remorse in his tone. “As you said, they’re prototypes! And it’s almost like it’s on autopilot—”

“AUTOPILOT AROUND THAT MOON, THEN!!”

“WHOOPS!” The Blue Lion lurched out of the way at the very last second. “Oof, that could’ve been bad.”

“BAD?! YOU ALMOST FLATTENED US!”

“Relax, Keithy! Has anyone ever told you you’re a very uptight kinda guy?” Lance teased, glancing up at Keith from where he still had a firm grip on the controls. “Hey, I know! Let’s take this baby to the Space Mall!”

“La-ance,” Keith groaned, but there was nothing he could do. Blue didn’t respond when he tried to wrench the controls away from Lance. And that was when he remembered King Alfor’s speech about how these ships would choose their own pilots:  if you could get it to start, you could have it. But he didn’t think the king meant for his son to take the thing joyriding! Ugh, maybe he could spin this as some sort of training exercise?!

And secondly, he was kind of offended that Lance still considered him uptight. He’d loosened up a lot since he’d come to live on Altea! Didn’t Lance remember the Klanmüirls? Or the narwhals? None of the other Galra Commanders he knew would ever stand for that sort of thing!

The next thing he knew, they were actually at the Space Mall and Lance was getting out. Great. How was this his life? The good part was, they didn’t need to lock anything, because the Blue Lion put up a particle barrier as soon as they were clear, the bad part was… well, Lance in a space mall was like a kid in a candy store.

He wanted to go everywhere. At light speed.

After the fifth time Lance ran away from him, though, Keith was starting to sense a pattern: light speed was only being used to get away from his bodyguard. He quickly grabbed the prince in the hallway before he could dart off again.

“Look, I get that you’re mad at me—” he started.

“What?! Mad at you? Why, in all the cosmos, would I be mad at you, Keithy?!” Lance said, loudly and sarcastically.

Keith felt his eye twitch. “Can we not do this in public, please?” he asked quietly.

“Why not? Am I making you uncomfortable? Am I—” To Keith’s surprise, Lance cut himself off with a deep breath and a sigh. “Look, I’m sorry. I just thought….” He trailed off with another sigh.

“You just thought what?” Keith asked, curious at the way Lance was blushing. No, surely not….

“Nevermind,” Lance said. He spotted something over Keith’s shoulder. “WHAT is THAT??” he exclaimed, pointing. Keith turned to look, only to find himself being pulled into a shop that sold all kinds of things. Knick-knacks, appliances, you name it. And it all came from—

“Earth?!” he exclaimed, as the salesman tried to get them interested in a strange-looking water fountain that doubled as a chair. “All of this comes from Earth??” He was suddenly much more interested in the merchandise. And, oh man, they HAD to get Shiro something!

Lance, meanwhile, was enamored with a large, benign-looking animal that stared out at them peacefully and occasionally said, “Moo.”

“I love her!” he squealed, hugging the animal. “I’m going to take her, and keep her, and hug her, and—”

“That there is a Kaltenecker,” the salesman said proudly. “One free with every purchase!”

Lance’s eyes gleamed.

“You can get ONE!” Keith said quickly, before Lance could buy out the whole store. Lance pouted, but Keith stood firm. “One for now,” he negotiated. “Just to make sure you can take care of her and she doesn’t come with any weird… surprises.”

After a bit more whining, Lance agreed, and for their purchase, they bought Shiro a rectangle with some weird drawings on it that the salesman insisted was an entertainment box. (Keith didn’t see how such a thing would be entertaining, but maybe Shiro would know how to work it.)

Then, Lance was starving, and they had to get some food. Keith agreed, but he didn’t think Kaltenecker enjoyed Lance’s attempts to serve her whatever Vrepit Sal’s had given them. He also had no idea what she was chewing on….

“Is that a cow?” they heard a familiar voice exclaim. Keith and Lance looked over, and sure enough, there was Shiro, heading straight for them. Followed closely by Pidge and an irate-looking Hunk.

“She’s my new Kaltenecker!” Lance said proudly.

“Kaltenecker?” Shiro repeated, looking at Keith.

“I don’t know,” he said, throwing his hands up helplessly. “It doesn’t seem like it’s gonna eat him, so I figured it’d be okay.”

Shiro at least had the decency to laugh into his hand.

“Oh man,” Hunk said, also examining the creature, “I dunno how this is gonna do in the Klanmüirl enclosure, but hey, I’m sure we’ll work something out.” He turned to Lance. “So, bad news, your dad says you’re grounded.”

“Awww,” Lance groaned.

“And good news, he’s so stoked you got a Lion running, it’s probably not gonna be for long,” Hunk continued.

“Yes!” Lance fist-pumped.

“More good news, you activating a Lion seems to have kicked them all into gear, because the Yellow one chose me, and Green chose Pidge here.”

Beside him, Pidge waved absently, looking more interested in the little box they’d gotten for Shiro.

“REALLY?” Lance looked delighted.

“Yeah, so as soon as you get home, we’re gonna have to do a bunch of tests and stuff, but until then, more bad news…,” Hunk bit his lip and looked uncertain. “You guys didn’t just happen to bring Allura with you, did you? ‘Cause nobody can find her or Lotor anywhere.”

Lance sat straight up. “Allura’s missing?!”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Hunk said, waving his hand dismissively. “More importantly, what the heck are you guys eating? Is that even food?!” He examined their lunch with expressions that ranged from “interested” to “horrified.”

Lance and Keith exchange a glance that needed no words. Their siblings weren’t the type to just go off without any warnings to anybody, that was their MO. Allura and Lotor were too… responsible. Whatever had happened….

“You’re right, Hunk,” Lance said, quickly. “Let’s get some real food back at the castle! I wanna see who else gets a Lion. You want one, Keithy? You know you do!” he teased.

“No, I’ve got my hands full with you,” Keith grumbled. (Yes, he did. He really did. He’d seen how quickly and effortlessly Blue had responded to Lance’s handling and he was certain he could do better…. Oh, how he wanted a chance!)

“How about you, Shiro?” Lance was asking, talking fast to cover up his nervousness about his sister’s disappearance.

“I thought I felt something from the Black one,” Shiro admitted, still absently petting Kaltenecker. “But King Alfor assured me it wouldn’t move until the others were paired off. Something about it being the leader.”

“Cool! Well, lead on, Captain, Sir!”

“Ha ha, Lance,” Shiro said dryly, as they all headed back towards the entrance. “Tell me, what are you going to do with a cow, anyway?”

“I dunno,” Lance said, giving it another hug. “What do you usually do with cows?”

“I could teach you how to milk it.”

“Really?! What’s that?”

Shiro’s explanation left Keith a little weirded out, but Lance seemed eager enough to try. Not that he got much of a chance. After flying the three Lions back to Altea, they were greeted by an excited crowd in the Lions’ hangar at the space port, all of them eager to try for the remaining two. Black and Red’s shields remained up, however, even when Lance tried to push his way to the front of the crowd.

Keith, already nervous about potential assassins in this crowd, got the signal from Alfor to get his son out of there, and quickly pulled Lance away. It didn’t matter if the prince was complaining that he could hold his own. Nor did it matter that Hunk and Pidge had carefully separated themselves already to try to take control of this mess. Even the fact that Keith could hear a low rumbling in the back of his brain that sounded like purring when he looked at the Red Lion… his first and only priority was Lance’s safety. Altea had already lost its heir today, they didn’t need to lose the spare too.

Fortunately, the king and queen joined them in Lance’s room soon after, before Keith and Shiro ran out of ways to keep him distracted. Queen Melenor ran straight to Lance and threw her arms around him, sobbing. That was the first indication they’d gotten that something was truly wrong.

“We thought maybe Lance had convinced Allura to take him with her,” Alfor said, looking pale and shaken. He laid a heavy hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Thank you for always taking such good care of my son.”

“Sir?” he said, unable to keep his questioning tone to himself.

“What’s going on?” Lance asked, his voice wavering as he started to panic. “Where’s Allura? Mom?! Dad?!”

“All we found was a note!” Queen Melenor burst into tears again and hugged Lance even tighter.

“It seems she and Prince Lotor have spent their time together—when they were supposed to be courting—researching how to get to Oriande,” Alfor said, regretfully shaking his head.

“Oriande?” Lance yelped. “But that’s—that’s a myth!” Keith could tell: now Lance was truly panicking. “And, even if it wasn’t, all the stories say it’s a… a….”

“A one-way journey,” Alfor finished for him. “Which is why, if we don’t find them soon, we may have to declare your sister missing… indefinitely.”

“NO!” Lance cried, wrenching himself away from his mother. Keith quickly caught him in his arms—not tight enough to cage, just enough to ground him—and led him over to a small padded bench nearby. Lance sat, still shaking his head in denial but not trying to get away from Keith. “No, no, no… there’s has to be way—the Lions! Dad, could we use the Lions to get to her?!”

“We don’t even know which way they’ve gone,” Alfor reminded him sadly. “I, too, looked for Oriande in my youth, but I never even came close. I finally forced myself to abandon the hunt when your mother became pregnant. And now, I—” the poor king swallowed and looked away, “I regret every bedtime story I ever told you two about that place.”

Both Lance and Queen Melenor hurried to reassure their king that, no, none of this was his fault. They loved him and they’d get through this as a family. Meanwhile, Keith stood off to the side, watching silently.

Lotor. Lotor was missing too, but instead of being anxious or worried about him, all Keith could think was, ‘Dammit, brother! You’re going to cost us the alliance! What were you thinking?!’

Was that normal? Surely, he should be upset, right? Crying and worried about his family like Lance? Why—why wasn’t he?

He heard Shiro come up behind him and looked over when he felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You okay?” Shiro asked.

Keith thought about it for a moment. “I’m worried about Allura,” he finally confessed. “And I’m a little annoyed at Lotor. I’m sure he talked her into it, after all. He’s been obsessed with Altean lore ever since we were kids.” He looked at his friend. “Is that…? Shouldn’t I be worried, or panicking, or something? I mean—” Keith faltered. “He’s my brother! I’ve always been loyal, to him and the Empire, but…. Is there something wrong with me?”

“I doubt it,” Shiro said, the knowing smile back on his face. “Think about it. If it was Lance who was missing, what would you do?”

“I’d pull out all the stops to find him immediately,” Keith said, not even having to think about it. “I’d use every resource I had until I found him. No matter how long it took.” His chest constricted painfully just thinking about a scenario like that.

Shiro was giving him that look that said he was almost there in getting the correct answer; he just needed to dig a little deeper. Keith thought about it.

“But… that’s just because he’s my responsibility, isn’t it?” he asked, almost desperately. “It doesn’t mean anything….”

Shiro gave him a much softer smile, his eyes twinkling with laughter. “I didn’t say anything about that,” he pointed out. “But fine, if you want to play that game, imagine if Lance wasn’t your responsibility. Would you still feel the same?”

“I—I don’t know!” Keith exclaimed, much too loudly. It caught the attention of the royal family, who realized the two were still in the room with them.

“Think about it,” Shiro whispered, as King Alfor made his way over to them.

“Ah, Prince Keithyr,” he said uneasily. Keith winced. Oh, right. Now that Lotor was gone, he was expected to take on ambassador duties for the Empire, wasn’t he? This was gonna get awkward. “Our most humble apologies and deepest condolences go out to you and the Empire as well. Forgive me my momentary lapse in protocol—”

Yep. Super awkward.

“Please, your majesty,” he said, holding up a hand to forestall any further ‘niceties.’ “You don’t ever need to apologize to me. Officially, I can’t apologize to you either, but—” he sighed, “unofficially, I want to kick my brother in the….” He trailed off with a vague handwave, very aware that it was against protocol to swear in front of the local monarch.

“Quiznak?” King Alfor finished for him with a small smile.

Keith shrugged helplessly. Yeah. That. Thank God the Alteans had come up with such an all-inclusive word.

“I’ll need to get ahold of the Emperor, to see how he wants to handle all of this….” Ugh, his list of responsibilities had just grown exponentially!

“Yes, I’ll need to make a statement as well…,” King Alfor trailed off, no doubt making his own list of new duties in the light of this tragedy.

Keith only half-paid attention, he kept glancing at Lance. For any other disaster, he’d be over there, making sure the prince was comfortable and didn’t do anything stupid… maybe offer him a friendly shoulder to cry on, or a bowl of his favorite comfort food. Now, all he could do was watch as Lance buried his face in his hands, trying to stifle his sobs.

And Keith hated it.

#bodyguard AU #klance #voltronsecretsanta2k19 #VLD #stars this got longer than I thought it would

[distressedpanda]

Her Song (Loki X OFC) Part 6

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Blood

A/N: I actually made it on time guys! Hooray!

As always let me know if you want to be tagged.

Tags: @whosaidididthat​

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

"So how is my brother?" Thor's voice boomed across the training room. 

Iloa had been training with Thor for the past few days, Natasha having gone out on a private solo mission. Not having to hold back against him, she had enjoyed the change of strength and pace, until today. Now he was incessantly asking questions about her and his brother's non-existent relationship. It had been almost two weeks since he had opened up to her, in this very training room. The evidence still present on the wall, to the disappointment of a very disgruntled Tony Stark. Eleven days, six hours, three minutes and no telling how many seconds, since the mission that had both pushed them closer together and had somehow torn them further apart. But hey who's counting?

She panted from the exertion and hurled a Kunai at Thor's head to get him to shut up. He flicked the blade away effortlessly with Mjölnir, "Touchy subject?" he asked nonchalantly, grinning ear to ear. 

She blew her hair out of her face, "I wouldn't know, Thor. Haven't spoken to him since the Russia assignment."

He chuckled, "I thought he would have spoken to you by now," he jabbed at what, he was unaware, was an open wound.

She screamed at him and he went down on one knee holding his head. She was on him in an instant, Kunai at his throat, "I am not his keeper, you asshole!" Moving the dagger, she shoved his head down and walked back to her side of the room squaring off at him again.

He chuckled again without mirth, returning to his feet. "Remind me not to get on your bad side."

"Again?" she asked. Extracting a new Kunai from her belt, she lifted her arms adopting a fighting stance. She watched his muscles tense, preparing to charge. 

Lifting Mjölnir to his side, he let out a fierce battle cry and was on her in a few steps. Dipping and sliding under his swing, she slashed at his side narrowly missing doing real damage. Instead, the dagger tore a large hole in his shirt.

He righted himself, pulling at the hem of the shirt to inspect the damage. "I really liked this shirt," he whined, but was still grinning.

"Quit pissing me off and I won't do the same to your jeans," she baited him.

He attacked again, swinging the hammer down at her. "Have you told him yet?"

He was trying to distract her and it almost worked, she narrowly missed the swing. Spinning her body away, just in time. Of course, there was no real danger. Anytime Thor saw that she couldn't escape getting hit, he would halt the hammer short of making contact with her.

She stood up a few feet away from the God panting heavily but not from the fight. She was agitated to say the least. He was the only person in the tower that knew her full story. Where she came from, what she was. “Don't you think if he knew, we wouldn't be having this conversation?” She snarled at him, then tried to reign in her anger, “I dropped a hint once, but he didn't take the bait. I even told him point blank that I wasn't a mortal. Twice. I am just not interested in fighting him to let him know.”

“You are his Disir, you most know that now,” he argued.

“Stop,” she screamed, Thor crumpled again. Holding his head in his hands, Mjölnir falling heavily to the floor. She breathed heavily, fighting the anger building in her mind. Taking deep steadying breaths, her hands trembled, gripping the daggers in a white knuckle grasp as she fought for control. She couldn't lose control, not here. She was afraid of hurting everyone in the tower, not just the pig-headed man on the ground before her that couldn't keep his mouth shut.

Thor looked up at her, “I am sorry,” he apologized, leaning back to a seated position. Still messaging his temples, the pain didn't stop him from adding, “But you know it's true.”

Iloa had had enough, turning on her heels, she ripped the belt from her waist tossing it and the Kunai in her hands on the ground next to the door. Exiting the room, she heard him call one last time, “You are only mad because I am right!”

She grit her teeth, grumbling under her breath about how he could take his damned prophecy and shove it up his ass. Rounding a corner, she came up short.

Loki, was at the other end of the hall, nose buried in a book. His brow furrowed in concentration, as he was reading and walking towards her. In a green button down the same shade as his eyes, black slacks, and patent leather shoes, tapping lightly on the floor. Beautiful just wasn't a strong enough word for the vision of elegance before her.

Her breath caught in her throat, Thor's words ringing in her ears. She wasn't even sure she understood what a Disir was anyway. When Thor had first met her, he had told her what she was. She had spent far too many years on this earth wondering why she had stopped aging. She was stronger, faster, more agile and durable, with quicker reflexes and more stamina than anyone she had encountered before. Then her ability had shown itself, throwing her into even more confusing territory.

It had never made sense to her, until Thor had forced her to let him explain. But now standing there with a quickly approaching Loki, this information meant nothing if he wouldn't even talk to her. She crossed her arms over her chest, stepping into his path. But as he got close to her, he stepped around her never looking up from the book in his hands. 

She dropped to her knees, hands on the floor barely holding herself up. He couldn't have hurt her more if he had actually hit her. Acting like she didn't exist was so much worse. She curled in on herself, her heart ripping from her chest and following the man walking away from her.

She didn't bother fighting the tears that flowed freely down her cheeks. She was so angry at Thor, confused about Loki, hurt by his actions and the fact that she could very well be his Disir. She was a raw ball of mixed emotions and she couldn't fight them anymore. She sat back against the wall, pulling her legs to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She sobbed, bowing her head into the private space her curled body created.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, it felt like an eternity. She had stopped sobbing, reducing herself to small sniffles, a while ago. Slowly she lifted her head, wiping at her eyes.

Thor and Loki were sitting across from her, the former staring at her with sad eyes. While the latter with his arms and ankles crossed, looking anywhere but at her. 

She yelped at suddenly seeing them there, and both men groaned in pain. She couldn't make herself feel sorry though. She ducked her head and looked away from the two, letting her hair shield her face. “What are you doing here?” she croaked out of her emotionally raw throat.

Thor cleared his throat, “Loki has something he wishes to say to you.”

She scoffed at the idea. 

Silence reigned in the hall and she was having none of that. Abruptly rising to her feet, she headed down the hall away from the pair. Her wrist was grabbed, and she immediately yanked herself free, whirling on whichever of the two had touched her.

Loki stood there, his arm still outstretched. The familiar electricity unable to reach her through the raw mixed emotions thrashing around her brain. Like living creatures trying to tear her apart. He slowly drew back, sliding his hands in his pockets awkwardly. He started to chew on his bottom lip, which aggravated her further. She crossed her arms, glaring at him, “What?!” she shouted.

Loki felt that single word with all the force she had delivered it with. He actually stumbled back reaching out to the wall to keep himself up right. He didn't want this. It was better for them both, if they had nothing more to do with each other. He couldn't bear to lose her in any form. But he knew that because she was just a mortal, if he allowed himself to let these feelings form fully in his heart, it would hurt even more when she died. The mission had made that perfectly clear.

He tried to form a sentence, to tell her these things. To be truthful to this woman that meant so much to him already. Unfortunately, he just stood there gaping foolishly, unable to utter even a syllable. 

She turned again, but Thor had overtaken her and was standing in her way. Her hands formed fists at her sides, “Thor, you are already on my shit list. If you don't get out of my way this instant, I will kill you,” she breathed the warning.

Thor raised his hands defensively taking a step back, “Okay, but listen,” he didn't get to finish, because Loki scoffed.

Iloa turned her burning sapphire gaze back to him and this time she was eerily calm. Loki was unnerved by her appearance, flinching away.

“Hey, back over here,” Thor begged, trying to keep his voice calm and assuring despite the tremble there. “Focus on me Iloa,” she drew her steely gaze back to him and he flinched too. “You have to calm down or you are gonna tear this entire building apart.” He kept his voice soft and gentle. She started to breathe more evenly, closing her eyes and concentrating on stamping out the raging fire burning through her veins.

Loki's brow knitted together, his brother was not just scared of the girl, he was terrified. He opened his mouth to ask but Thor cut in again, “Brother, please stop talking, unless you want us all to die.”

He couldn't stop the question from falling from his lips, “How can she kill us? We are Gods.”

There was just enough snark in that question, to reignite the fire in Iloa. She turned to him again but Thor stepped between them just as she began to hum at Loki. Loki crumbled to the floor, holding his head and screaming in pain. The walls around them, started groaning and shaking. The fluorescent lights in the ceiling flickering, as the ceiling started to splinter and crack. Loki could hear the building protesting at her power. All this did was further confuse him, as he fought to save his life with his seiðr.

Thor started over, “Iloa, look at me please. You have to stop or you will kill him,” Thor looked down at Loki writhing in pain on the floor. Blood had started flowing from his ears. “Please, Iloa,” he begged. “You will never be able to live with yourself, if you hurt him. If you bring this building down, you will kill everyone here. Don't think about him. Focus on, Tony and Steve, Banner and Natasha. She is back home now. I know she is you best friend here, right? You don't want to hurt all of them do you?”

A tear rolled down her cheek, she exhaled loudly. Everything stopped moving and Thor breathed a sigh of relief, crouching to check on Loki. His pain had stopped but Thor had no way of knowing how much damage had been done. He looked back up to Iloa but she was gone.

“How did she do that?” Loki asked through grit teeth, “She is just a mortal.”

Thor rolled his eyes, deciding whether to leave the idiot on the ground or not. “She isn't a mortal, you fool,” exasperated, he knew it wasn't his story to tell. But he'd had enough of this repetitive fight between the two. 

That seemed to clear Loki's mind enough to be astonished, “What?”

Thor chuckled, “She is an Asgardian, just like me. Well, not just like me,” he admitted.

Things started to make sense to Loki. She had mentioned that there was more to her than he knew. Had even stated that she was more than a mortal, more than once. But of course, being true to form, he had stubbornly never allowed her to explain. He hadn't bothered to earn the answers either. She had lived through being mortally wounded, only needing a 'nap' to fully recover. He sighed, sitting up slowly. Wiping the blood dripping down his neck, off with his sleeve and the back of his hands.

Thor watched him with worried eyes but Loki waved him off. “I was able to keep her from doing permanent damage with my seiðr.” He dropped his head into his hands, “I am a fool.”

Thor lent his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling, absently inspecting the fissure cracks that had formed there, “Yep,” was all he had to say to his brother.

#loki #loki x ofc #fanfic #angst #tom hiddleston loki #slow burn

[crashdevlin]

Zed Word- 12: Heal Her

Zed Word Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3. This was inspired by a series of tweets between Jeffery Dean Morgan and Jensen Ackles…. Sam and Dean never found John, but everything went the same way anyway until Season 5. Adam never said ‘yes’ to Michael. The fight at Stull Cemetery never happened but Lucifer (jumping from vessel to vessel ‘cause Sam wouldn’t say ‘yes’) and Pestilence managed to infect everyone with Croatoan, turning everyone into zombies when they die. The boys have traveled the apocalyptic landscape killing zombies and saving people ever since. JOHN IS NEGAN!!!

Summary: Reader has been living in Alexandria since Daryl saved her life. When she ventures out of town for the first time in months, Sam and Dean save her life and she takes them back to Alexandria, a town on edge since Negan showed up. Dean takes an instant interest in the woman, and when Negan shows up again, he does, too.

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Negan (John Winchester) x Reader

Story Warnings: Kidnapping, torture, Non-con/dub-con, unprotected sex of a forced nature, pregnancy, mentions of abortion, PTSD, *THIS IS A DARK FIC*

Chapter Warnings: manipulation, pregnancy stuff, love potion, unprotected sex, mentions of noncon/dubcon (’cause love potion), 18+ HERE BE SEX, DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!, oral (fem rec)

"You know, I knew you were a fuckin' monster, but I really didn't think you'd go so far as a love potion," Dean said, walking into the doctor's office with his pistol trained on John. John sighed and straightened from his position leaned over the sonogram machine in an attempt to figure out the dials.

"Dean. You're back. Awesome," he said, flatly. He turned to his sons, eyes swiftly taking in the guns pointed at him. "Gonna shoot me?"

"Been dreamin' 'bout it for months," Dean responded.

"You don't think I'm gonna make it easy, do you?"

"I don't think either of us expected you to, Dad," Sam said.

"Right. Look. Gimme a chance to explain."

Dean scoffed. "Explain? You're gonna explain feeding y/n roofies for a month?"

"Yes, I dosed her, but I did it for her own good!"

"Are you even listening to yourself?!"

"She's happy when she's on the meds, Dean. She's not stressed. She's not thinking about the zombies or Lucifer or your limp dick or everything she's lost. She's happy when she's in love with me. It's better for the babies."

"You don't give a fuck about those kids!" Dean growled and Sam stepped forward.

"Just sit down, Dad. You aren't going anywhere near that bunker until your little potion's worn off," Sam instructed, pointing at the exam table with the end of his gun.

John sighed and sat down. "You're sentencing your stepmom to a life of anxiety and depression."

"She ain't your wife, and even if she were, she'll be a widow as soon as we know she's safely out of it," Dean growled.

"She's gonna give those kids up, you know? If she's not in love with me, there's gonna be nothing we can do to keep Lucifer from getting his hands on one of those kids."

"She's in love right now and you're raiding a obstetrician's office to try to convince her to keep 'em," Sam spat at him.

"And then she'll leave. She'll hand those babies off to the angels and then she'll leave and you'll never see her again."

"Better that than having her drugged up and tethered to you!" Dean shouted.

There was silence for a long while before John laid back on the exam table and sighed, loudly. "Yeah, sure. Why the fuck not?" he said, chuckling.

"What'd you say?" Dean asked, pointing his pistol at his father, again, as a bright white light filled the room, causing them to cover their eyes with their hands. When they chanced to look at him, John was standing at the end of the exam table clenching and unclenching his fist. "What the hell was that?"

"Hello, again, Dean. Aren't you going to welcome me back?" His eyes glowed blue. The voice that came out of John's mouth wasn't quite John, nor was it Negan, and Dean swallowed heavily. "Don't worry. I'll give him back once I've got my new true vessel."

"Michael." Dean took a deep breath, his mouth pulling down into a scowl. "You being here mean the rest of the dickbag patrol's back, too?"

"Of course. Now that hope has been restored... new vessels with no sentiment or attachments to fight through? We'll retake Heaven, retake Earth, finally fix your mess."

"Our mess?! You made this happen! You wanted this ending!"

"Not this ending, Dean. The one you resisted. You were supposed to say 'yes', not some infant. The destruction Lucifer has perpetrated on my father's landscape could've been completely avoided, if you'd only said 'yes' beforehand."

"Oh, bite me, Mike." Dean rolled his eyes. "So, what, you're takin' Dad?"

"You were going to kill him, weren't you? Why do you care what I do with him?"

"Do me a favor, Michael. Snap his neck when you're done with him." Dean slid his pistol into the back of his jeans and started to walk away.

"Dean." Sam followed him. "We... what are we-?"

"We'll be able to get back to the bunker about the time y/n comes around."

"And what are we gonna do about-"

"He's Michael's problem, now," Dean bit out, rushing out to the Impala.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I just need to rest. Please," you asked, tired eyes almost begging your friends.

"I'm sorry. We just need to make sure that you're up 'til 2 am." Michonne rubbed her hand across your back as she spoke soothingly.

"But... I'm pregnant, guys, and I'm so tired."

"Just one more hour," Aaron said, checking his watch.

You sighed. "Where's John? Chuck, have you seen John?"

The prophet shook his head. "I'll tell you all about it at 2, okay?"

"Nah, we'll tell her all about it right now," Dean said, walking into the kitchen and dropping his bag on the floor. "The angels are back. Guess they got wind of those perfect little vessels in your belly. Negan ain't comin' back tonight or any other night."

Panic rose up in your chest. "What?! What do you mean?"

"He gave consent to the archangel Michael," Sam said as Dean dropped to his knees in front of you.

"Michael's wearing him until he can get his hands on one of your sons." Dean looked into your eyes, sad green eyes boring into yours. "Please tell me it's starting to wear off. Princess, please," he begged.

"Why do you care?" you bit out. Dean calling you 'princess' had sent an angry wave through your body. An angry wave that jolted you from loving thoughts of John to angry thoughts of pineapples. You stood, looking down at him as he leaned back away from you and looked up into your face. "Why does it matter, Dean? I'm halfway through this pregnancy and then I'm fuckin' gone so why does it matter to you if I'm in my right mind or not?!"

"Well, that's better than the heart eyes and sighs she was givin' off before," Crowley muttered.

Dean stood, looking down at you, instead of looking up. "I fuckin' love you, y/n, that's why I care."

"Bullshit, Dean," you scoffed, shaking your head as you fled the kitchen, heading for your bedroom. "You want to love me, but you don't love shit. I'm something broken for you to fix, like your stupid car."

"You're not broken!" Dean followed.

"Oh, just bite me, Dean," you growled.

"Is that what you need, huh? You need me to treat you like Negan did?! You want me to mark you up and treat you like a possession?" He grabbed the collar of your shirt and pulled you back into his arms, spinning you so that he was pushing you against the wall with his body.

"At least Negan could fuck me! At least he didn't make me feel unwanted and defective!" You planted your hands against his shoulders and pushed as hard as you could, but as tired as you were, as drained as you felt, you couldn't budge him.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, leaning his forehead against the wall beside your head. "I didn't mean to make you feel unwanted, y/n."

"Get off of me, Dean," you demanded.

"No," he responded, leaning back and looking into your eyes. "I'm not going anywhere, princess. I will not leave you again."

Your throat swelled up with emotion, making it difficult to swallow. "Oh, God. Dean, what did he-" A sob tore from you. "What did he do to me?"

Dean sighed in relief, hugging you close as you cried into his chest. "Shh. It's okay, princess. I got you. Everything's gonna be okay. Everything is gonna be fine. I promise. I got you."

All you could do was sob in response.

~~~~~~~~

Dean walked into the kitchen and sighed as he walked to the sink and poured a glass of water. He turned to the others and took a sip. "She's out. Cried herself to sleep. I don't... I don't know where to go from here."

Sam sighed as Daryl slipped out of the kitchen to go find y/n's room. He didn't want her to wake up alone. "Dean, I think the only thing you can do is stay by her side."

"As long as she'll let you," Michonne said. "She said she's leaving, didn't she?"

Dean nodded. "That's what she says. After the babies are born, after she hands them off to the archangels, she's gonna leave. Said it was a lot easier when it was just her she had to worry about. I'm hoping I can convince her to stay, but... I won't force her to."

"I will," Crowley growled. "This is the safest place in the world. Letting her walk away from here would be the biggest mistake we could make."

"Especially if the archangels are going to burn half of the world in their fight. She should stay." Sam ran his hand through his hair.

"Well, it ain't up to us, is it? If she wants to go, she can go," Dean said, his heart aching at the words.

"Dean..." Sam started.

"Look, it's not like I can keep her any safer here than out in the rest of the world. I couldn't keep her safe from fuckin' Dad, how could I keep her safe from the archangels and zombies?"

"She doesn't need you to, Dean," Chuck said, walking into the kitchen. "She's more than capable of taking care of herself. She's proven that, I think."

"Oh, look who it is: Robert Ford."

"So, I'm a coward. So what? I'm also the guy who knows how you fix this, so do you wanna keep insulting me, or do you wanna hear what I saw?" Chuck snapped.

Dean swallowed, thickly. "How's he fix it?" Aaron asked, leaning forward. Everyone looked to him. "What? I want y/n to be happy."

"He's gonna give her a few days to get her mind right and then he's gonna make love to her." Chuck turned his attention back to Dean. "And I mean, venerate her. Get over the fact that she's in pain and fuckin' heal her, Dean. Make her feel it in a way your sociopath father never could. Love her, Dean. Don't coddle her. She stood up to Lucifer. She's stronger than even she knows. So just love her and she'll stay."

"Like it's that fuckin' simple, Chuck."

"Yes, it is. Dean, if you'd just done this in North Carolina, none of this shit would've happened. She needs you to show her how you feel. She can't believe you just saying it, especially after last time, so just..." Chuck shook his head. "You know what you have to do to fix this, so just fix it."

Dean took a deep breath and bit his bottom lip. "What if I fuck it up again? Since all of this is my fault, since I fucked it up in North Carolina, what do I d- how do I not fuck it up again?"

"You focus on her," Michonne coached. "You said you had trouble last time because she wasn't the innocent woman she was when she got taken to the Sanctuary? Well, has every woman you've been with been innocent?"

"Course not."

"Then why should she have to be?"

"It wasn't that she wasn't innocent, it was that Dad is the one who took her innocence, by fuckin' force."

"And that's not your concern. You just have to move forward," Sam said, shaking his head as he took a deep breath. "Dean, if you love her, you have to get over what Dad did to her so that she can get over it."

Dean took a sip of the water and walked away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next week was mostly spent in your bedroom, in your bed. You tried to be present for a few hours on day two of you being out from under John's thrall, but you couldn't manage it. Everything hurt. Your heart, your brain, your body. One of the babies was putting pressure on your sciatic nerve and the sharp pain running down your left leg from your lower back was enough to put you in tears had you not already been crying them due to your terrible fuckin' life.

Seriously, how had your life become this?

Day eight was almost okay. You felt like you could breathe, like there were no tears to cry, and whichever of the boys was pressing on your nerves had backed off. You left your room and shuffled to the kitchen. Daryl greeted you with a bowl of oatmeal. “Ya hungry?”

You nodded. “Starving.” Daryl handed the bowl to you and you smiled at him. “Thanks.”

“You good?” he whispered.

“I’m… better.”

“You need to talk to him,” Daryl said, dropping to sit at the table with another bowl of oatmeal.

“Who?” you asked, sitting next to him at the table.

“You know who.”

You took a deep breath. “Dean. I just… what do I say to him? What do I say that hasn’t already been said between us? He refuses to acknowledge that my damage is irreparable and I refuse to acknowledge he could love me. There’s no… he was so gung-ho about these boys. That’s what was gonna make us, you know? He offered to keep the kids as his, but… I’m not even keeping them, so… so, really, it’s…”

“Ain’t he been helpin’ you since Negan disappeared?”

You nodded. “Yeah, but it’s like…” You sighed and dropped the spoon into the bowl. “He comes in, drops off food and water, Tylenol for the pain. He whispers that everything’s gonna be okay if he thinks I’m asleep, but he doesn’t talk much if I’m awake. I don’t talk much, either. I don’t know. It just… doesn’t seem…”

“Shit’s hard. So fuckin’ what? He loves you. You love him. You gonna get past this with him. An’ you can… you can give them kids up and you could have more. Some with Dean.”

“There might not be a world left after the fight, Daryl. There's no reason to try for more kids, and really? Really, there's no…”

“Why are you arguin’?”

You ran your hand down your face. “I don't know. I just… I'm so tired and I just want it to be done.”

“Look, what Negan done to you-”

“Had to happen, right? He had to force me so that I'd get pregnant so that there could be new vessels. That's it. Everything else is inconsequential.”

“That's not true.” Dean's voice in the doorway made you turn. “You wanna believe Chuck about what God intended, fine. He’s the Prophet. But he ain’t God, so he can only guess. Educated guess, but still. Even if it’s true, that wouldn’t mean nothing else matters. This place is a fortress. We could stick it out here. We could survive the Apocalypse here.”

“Dean, I-”

“Gimme another chance. Gimme a chance to get this right,” Dean begged, his jaw tightening and his throat clenching around the words.

Daryl stood and left the kitchen without another word as you looked into Dean’s eyes. The sincerity and apprehension in them made you relent. You pulled out the chair next to you and turned back to your oatmeal. Dean cautiously took the seat and watched you eat.

“I’m glad you got your appetite back. I was worried for a while, there.”

“Nothin’ against you or the food you brought me, Dean, just… when you’ve been dosed every day for almost a month, you tend not to trust.” He nodded, minutely, and you sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“What could you possibly be sorry for?”

You snorted. “I’m stubborn and stupid… and weak and… stupid. So fuckin’ stupid. I never should’ve let my guard down around him. I knew he was a psycho and I… I never should have accepted that fucking soup.”

“You were hungry and exhausted. You’re not stupid. You stood up to Lucifer, which is something not many people can say, princess. You’re not weak.” He gave a small smile. “I won’t dispute ‘stubborn’, though. Never had a woman so determined to prove I don’t love her. It’s a new one.”

You shrugged. “What’s not to love?” you joked.

“Exactly,” he said, seriously, leaning closer.

“I have a litany of responses to that one, Dean. Where do you want me to start?”

“Well, considering they’re all bullshit, I don’t think it really matters, does it?”

“Dean,” you groaned.

“No, come on. Is there a single person in this destroyed world that hasn’t fucked something up, hurt someone or themselves, made a bad decision that bit them in the ass? Y/n, you know my biggest failures, okay? You know that I’m partly responsible for all of this. But you don’t hold it against me, do you?”

“Heaven was-”

“Exactly! Heaven was manipulating us, and it wasn’t our fault. What do you think I’m gonna say to you?”

You shook your head. “It’s John’s fault,” you whispered.

“Yeah.” He grabbed your chair and turned you to him. “There is nothing not to love. Okay?” he whispered.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you watched him. He was trying so hard to show you that you could be okay. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his in a chaste kiss. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Of course.” He licked his lips, seemingly lost in thought for a few seconds before he grabbed your head, slotting his lips against yours with much more passion than you did it. You whined and leaned into the kiss, grabbing onto his shirt and pulling him closer to you. He groaned, fingers tightening against your scalp as you both parted your lips and licked into each other’s mouths. He pulled back, panting softly, and stood. He grabbed your hand and pulled you to your feet. “Come on.”

“Come-” you shuffled after him as he pulled you out of the kitchen. “Where?”

He didn’t answer, just pulling you along to his bedroom, where he dropped your hand and pushed open the door. You swallowed before walking across the threshold. You hadn’t been in his room and a remnant of John’s conditioning told you not to go, but Dean sat on the end of the bed and looked across the space to you. Not forcing your hand, not coddling you and treating you like a fragile piece of glass, just waiting for you to make up your mind. You stepped in and swung the door shut.

Dean smiled, brightness reaching his eyes as he stood to wrap his arms around you. “I’m gonna do it right this time, princess.” You chuckled, hiding your face in his chest. “What are you laughing at?” he asked, amused.

You pulled back and looked up at his face, a smirk on your lips. “I’d just like you to do it, at all, this time.”

He gave a scoffing laugh. “Okay, I deserve that. Lemme make it up to you.” He kissed you and grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. Your hands slid up around his neck as he kissed you again, and you loved the feel of his warm skin against yours. He slid his lips down your jawline, sucking lightly at the skin of your neck as his hands skimmed down your body. He ran his thumb over your nipple, rolling your breast in his palm when the nipple puckered up for him. “Bed,” he insisted, pulling back. “Strip. Then, bed.”

He stepped back and watched as you went to pull your shirt off. He licked his lips and hummed. “You are so fuckin’ pretty.” You blushed at the compliment. “And look at that belly. Goddamn. They’re growin’ like fuckin’ weeds, aren’t they?”

You rubbed your hand across your belly. “Growin’ like Winchesters. Gonna be just as big as you and Sam.”

He smiled, softly. “Come on.” He grabbed the waistband of the soft cotton workout pants you never would’ve been wearing if you had a pair of jeans that fit and pulled them down your legs. You stepped out of the pants as Dean kissed the outside of your thighs, running his hands up the back of them. His fingers hooked in your underwear and dragged them slowly down.

Every move he made was slow and deliberate, every caress measured and completely devoid of aggression. As he laid you down on his bed and covered your body with his own, he showed only appreciation for your body and the sounds you made as he kissed his way across your body. He wanted to show you how he felt, but didn’t want to scare you. He wanted to worship you.

His technique for everything was polar to John’s. John was hard and harsh, forcing orgasms from you like your clenching and moaning was a trophy for him. Dean let your orgasms build slowly, first with lazy circles of his tongue across your clit, then with slow drags of his fingers in and out of your slick channel. When you tugged on his hair and begged Dean to take his pants off, he smiled up at you, obviously enjoying your strung-out expression.

“You wanna be on top or do you want me to?” he asked as he slid off the bed and popped the button on his worn blue jeans. You sat up, leaning on your elbows, eyes wide. Dean’s eyebrow raised at your expression. “What?”

“I’ve just… never... “

Dean nodded, understanding that John had always been the one to fuck you, never letting you be in charge. “You wanna try? You don’t have to. Just think it’d be a good way for us to, you know, do this without messing up anyone’s boundaries.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Just don’t say ‘pineapple’.”

He laughed as he dropped his jeans and boxers to his feet. “I’m never gonna live that down, am I?” You shook your head as he climbed onto the bed and lied down with his head on the pillow. He was hard and throbbing and your only thought was ‘please stay hard’. “All right, princess. Throw your leg over and let’s get this started.”

You moved to straddle him, holding yourself over his cock as he wrapped his hand around his base and lined the head up with your entrance. You rested your hands on his chest, fingers of your right hand touching the pentacle tattoo, as you slowly impaled yourself on him. When you were completely flush with him, your mouth hung open and he licked his bottom lip in between his teeth. You leaned over and pressed your lips to his, pulling his bottom lip in between your lips.

His hands grasped at your thighs and you started to roll your hips in the way that felt most natural and comfortable, languidly kissing him. His grip tightened as you started moving faster, encouraged by the moans he was letting out and the way his dick was throbbing against your walls. You pulled back from the kiss, feeling bolder, and started to bounce using your hands on his chest for extra leverage.

“Fuck, y/n!” he groaned, hands flying to your hips. “So good. God, you’re… fuck.”

“You getting close?” you asked, panting.

“I’ve been close for ten minutes, princess, but I didn’t… we’ve been waiting for so long… I’ve been thinking about basketball to hold it off.”

You laughed. “Isn’t it supposed to be baseball?”

He shook his head. “Thinkin’ ‘bout this Jayhawks game Sam and I went to once.”

“Dean… we have plenty of time to do this again and again. My legs are getting tired. You can cum.”

He smirked. “Yes, ma’am. Mind if I-?” He adjusted his hands on your hips and you nodded your consent. He held you still and immediately started fucking up into you, his feet braced against the mattress as his hips started to piston rapidly. It didn’t take long before he was grunting loudly, his cock twitching as he sent spurts of his seed deep into you.

You chuckled as you looked down at him. “I feel like gravity is gonna make this a huge mess when I get off of you.”

He nodded. “I mean… I haven’t cum in… it’s been a while, princess, so… it’s gonna be a mess no matter what we do, but I can try to roll us so that you’re on your back if you want.”

“Nah.” You rolled your body, pushing up off of him and putting your hand between your legs to try to stem some of the mess gushing from you. You rushed to the sink and rinsed your hand off as Dean tossed you his t-shirt to use as a rag. You settled into his bed next to him and rested your head on his chest as he wrapped his arm around you. “Hey, Dean? Can you not think about going to games with your brother when we’re in bed? That’s weird.”

His chest shook as he laughed. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

There was silence for a few minutes, just the sounds of the two of you breathing. “Are we going to be okay?”

“Yeah. We’re gonna be okay.”

KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme @lonely-skys @allykat2108 @mogaruke @flamencodiva @team-free-will-you-idjits-67 @pisces-cutie @paintballkid711 @natura1phenomenon @rainbowkisses31 @atc74 @alagalaska @coffee-obsessed-writer @bamby0304 @ilovefanfic86 @sculptorofbeginnings

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@mannls

#cassie writes stuff #zed word #michael!negan #reader-insert #dean/reader #pregnant reader #18+ #past noncon

[tsundozer]

🛍- A memory about being a teenager - For Rha

BELAH’DIA: A DRABBLE I DON’T REMEMBER POSTING

“No.”

The response was simple. Emphatic. Declarative. Rha did not just say it as if it were truth, he said it as though it were the only truth in the world.

“No, I don’t believe in anything.” ��The tired, weathered looking man took a long drag from his smoke and dashed the ash onto the dead grass below, watching it smoulder.

Across from him sat another man--equally old, equally tired. But his seafoam eyes shone like the moon reflecting off the ocean, and even as he spoke in harsh tones, they remained ever-gentle. He ran his hands through his thick, dark hair. Specifically, along streaks of silver running through it (Rha felt bitter, over how elegantly the other had aged). “Then let me ask you something else--If you don’t believe in anything, why are you here?”

Rha scoffed. He narrowed his eyes into a sharp arc and knit his brows close together, while his lips expanded rather than contracted with the rest of his face as they pulled into a tight snarl. “You asked me here. What kind of fuckin’ question is that? Why am I here. Really?” Another drag from one of his many portable poisons, one of several vices-on-demand. As he went for a third, it was plucked from his fingers by the other’s deft hands, and it was promptly crushed into the dirt. Rha’s dimmed, at that, though only to morph into an indignant scowl. “The fuckin’ hells are—”

“If you don’t believe in anything, then why are you here, Rha? Alive?” The other extended his arm to gesticulate towards his person for a moment, before finding the most concise (and affecting) words in his arsenal. “If you tell me, that there’s no Gods. Why do you try to expatriate your guilt, why is it salvation that you want so badly? If you tell me there’s no truth in this world, why do you say it like you’re right? If you say there’s no hope, no reason to believe in anything, why do you get up, in the morning? Why haven’t you taken that last step, and walked right onto those tracks?”

Each statement was like the man had drawn his blade and driven it into his gut. It left him shaking, with anger--until the last, which left him instead trembling from sudden cold. He felt a pang of guilt, where the blade had been thrust. “Lark, I—”

“Don’t think I haven’t seen you.” Again, the sword was drawn, this time piercing the heart. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you, night after night, standing at that railroad, thinking about stepping into an oncoming train and spraying every hope anyone has ever had for you onto the dirt to be soaked up by ungrateful earth and fed on by ants.”

Rha didn’t know what to say. He sunk himself down to sit in the dirt, and stared down at the ground. He resorted to the only thing he could, when he was out of words, out of defenses:

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.” A scrawny, green-eyed-black-eyed youth ground a palm against his socket, as if trying to stymie the flow of blood and flatten away the swelling.

The taller boy--this one with shaggy golden hair and eyes that wild horses ran behind--scoffed, and gave the other a rough shove. “What do you mean, ‘fuck you’? All I did was ask, if you don’t think you can win the Bloodsands, why do you keep going out there? It’s stupid.” He shoved his thumb up against the other’s eye and pressed against a lid with a twist. It sent the other stumbling back with a yowl--then a threatening hiss. Golden-hair was not remotely intimidated. In fact, he pressed on, “You feel that? It hurt like shit, right? But you’re ready for more. Know why? You think you can take me. Even if I beat your ass down, you’d get back up and try again, right? It’s the same. Don’t tell me, you should just quit, and you can never win. Because I’ve seen you, going in there time and time again, getting your hopes and dreams beaten out and leaking from your nose and lips, and you keep findin’ more. You keep goin’ back in there.”

Green-Eyes just stared. His chest rose and fell heavily as he fought the urge to tackle the other and claw his eyes out, for what he just did. He wanted to retort, but the most he could conjure up was a growl, that tapered into a whimper. That--that really hurt.

Golden-Hair shrugged, “You won’t get anywhere if you start cryin’. But for what it’s worth--I’ve seen you in the ring. The tenacity. I think you’ll get there, someday. Life’s like a brick wall, y’know? The people who make it in this world are those who can climb it, or who can throw themselves at it until it comes topplin’ down. You’re the latter.”

Green-Eyes heard the other, but the encouragement was mostly lost upon him. Instead, he felt the indignation of the implication that he would ever cry. Which prompted the tears of anger and shame to finally begin, as he slumped down to the ground. “Fuck you,” he said again.

“Nah, thanks. I only like women.”

“You--what?” Green-Eyes stared up at Golden-Hair, uncomprehendingly.

“Yeah!” Golden-Hair smirked and placed one hand on his hip as he nodded along to his own words, “I won’t fuck you, I only fuck women. Specifically large Roegadyn ladies who can probably crush me. I like the thrill, yanno? Also, like. They can go for ages. So no. I won’t fuck you. But we can probably find some twink that will?”

Green-Eyes stared. He stared, and stared, and stared. He felt something else bubbling up besides the anger, the indignation: incredulity. Following that, humour, and instead of a sob came a laugh. Then another, and another, until he was holding his bruised stomach and laughing and crying from the pain altogether. He saw a hand come down towards him. It was cached in filth, and the fingers were rough and calloused. He followed it upwards with his eyes until he stared through tears at the blurry features of the Golden-Haired boy. He was...strange. Provoking you, then joking with you, mocking you, then offering you his hand. Strange. He accepted it. He allowed himself to be pulled to his feet--and even stumbled into the taller youth’s arms. His cheeks flushed, he gave Golden-Hair a rough shove and stepped back several fulms. “You’re fucking weird, you know that?”

Golden-Hair just laughed, at that. He’d heard far worse. When Green-Eyes pushed away, he laughed even more--then gave a wink, just to put off the other more. “What’s your name!” It wasn’t a question. It was an exclamation. A demand. It was spoken with such confidence, that it prompted a response from the other—

“...Larkh’a. Larkh’a Relanah.”

“...Larkh’a?” Golden-Hair scoffed. “What kind of name is Larkh’a?” He snickered. He hadn’t heard such a stupid name in his life, he—

“It’s my mom’s! Watch it! See these black eyes? I can spread the wealth!”

Another snicker, “Okay, okay. Look--I’m Rha, okay? Rhaaaaaa! Rhaaaah!” He imitated growling and snarling noises, as he stamped about like a child. “There ain’t never been a dumber name! You’re in good company. Why..are you named after your mother, though?

“All keepers are,” an annoyed huff, “well, all the boys. You’ve never met a keeper before?”

“I’ve met plenty of keepers!” Rha grinned, the way his eyes shone, Larkh’a knew there was another joke bubbling up in the insufferable seeker. “Why, that broad-chested beauty down by sapphire? She’s absolutely a keeper! ...If you can keep’er well paid!”

“You’re not funny, you--you know that, right?” So Larkh’a said, even as he reached to cover his laugh with a hand. “Look— all male keepers are named after their mom. And we’re differentiated by birth order. Larkh’a, Larkh’to, Larkh’li, on and on.”

“What kind of culture doesn’t give their sons a name? That’s fuckin’ stupid, and I come from seekers, which are, like, really fuckin’ stupid. So if I’m calling this stupid, you know it’s the most backwards, ignorant shit on the planet. Fuckin’ tribals.” Rha spat on the ground. He expected to be struck for that, and he didn’t mind.

Instead, Larkh’a spat too. “I left, yeah? There was no place for me, back in the Shroud. I—”

“The Shroud! You’re from The Shroud? How come I’ve never met you?”

Larkh’a just raised an eyebrow. This kid oscillated between childish naivety, and a certain confidence and self-surety that he couldn’t place. “You...you’re kidding, right? The Shroud is huge. It makes sense, you’d never have seen us. By your own words, you’ve never even seen a keeper—”

“Boy. I’ve never met a keeper boy. I’ve seen ‘em.”

“...Met, a keeper boy. My point stands. I left. There was nothing for me there. So I came here. I’m going to be the champion of the Bloodsands, someday. I’m going to make a name, for myself.”

Rha smiled. A persistent shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

“What?”

“You just proved me right. You said you were going to win the Bloodsands.”

Larkh’a didn’t bother giving that a response. He averted his gaze to glare at the passerbys on their way to shop along sapphire avenue. “What about you? What are you doing here?”

“I ain’t got nothin’ for me back in the Shroud. It’s nothin’ but ghosts, the dead, and the dyin’. I’m lookin’ for Belah’dia.”

“Belah’...dia? You mean the old ruins out there? They’re no mystery, unless you mean you’re going deep inside—”

“No! I mean, yes! But no. I mean...Belah’dia. The idea of it, you know? A golden city amongst the sands, blessed by the sun. Paradise. I’m lookin’ for my Belah’dia. My dad, he wrote about it a lot in his journal.”

“So you’re gonna find that here, then? Here, and the actual, literal Belah’dia?”

“Nah.” Rha shrugged, “My Belah’dia is in Sharlayan.”

“Your Belah’dia. The Thanalan civilization? It’s in Sharlayan?”

“Yeah.”

“Sharlayan is not a desert.”

“Yeah.”

“There is no Belah’dia there.”

“There’s my Belah’dia.”

“But you’re not in Sharlayan.”

“No.”

“You’re in Thanalan?”

“Yeah!”

“With the actual Belah’dia.”

“Right.”

“But that ain’t your Belah’dia, you have to go to Sharlayan. Which is really far, really expensive.”

“That’s right.”

Lark’ha just stared. He stared, and he stared, and he stared until he thought he’d bored enough of a hole to peer into the other’s soul, and what he saw was a burning fire. An inferno raging behind his skin and funneling out through a dalamud-red eye. “You’re...really stupid, you know that?”

Rha just beamed, “Yeah, I guess. That’s about what I’ve heard! Ain’t been told nothin’ different, yet. But stupid people have gotten by before. They’ve even done great things. Stupid people don’t know when to quit, y’see? That makes ‘em, in a way, much better than smart folk.”

The logic didn’t hold up. Not in the slightest. Yet, Larkh’a found himself impressed--or at the least, intrigued--by the other boy. “How, exactly, do you plan on getting to Sharlayan? And what’ll you do then?”

“I’m gonna play my music. Then, I’ma buy an airship ticket. Once I’m there, I’m gonna take th’ exams and enroll in their academy. My dad went there. Said so in his journal. He saw all sorts of things. I’m gonna see ‘em, too.”

“...So you’re going to be an academic?” Larkha offered uncertainly.

“Yeah,” Rha affirmed with a cheery smile. “Like my old man.”

Larkh’a sighed. The kid wasn’t right in the head, he thought. Touched. Maybe dropped on his head too much. But...he believed in the other youth. What’s more, a kid who had never once spoken to him before in his life, believed in him too. “Listen, I’ve--we’ve got a place. Around back. You can stay there as long as you’d like, the others won’t mind. But you’ll have to earn your keep, pay some of that music money. Help in other ways, if you can’t come up with enough. They’re a bunch of dirty rats, lowlifes, beggars. But you’ll have a bed. One of them even plays. He’ll like to talk with you, I’m sure. I just have one condition, yeah?” This time, it was Larkh’a’s turn to extend a hand.

Rha took it without a second thought, “Yeah?”

“Take me with you, would you?”

“You mean to Sharlayan?”

“No, not there.”

Rha understood. With a confident (bordering upon arrogant) smile, he went off with his new friend.

“You still think it’s out there, Rha.” Larkson spoke in quiet, reassuring tones, even as he saw his friend curl up into himself in an attempt to retreat. He felt sure of himself, as he spoke those words, and confident that Rha would hear them, and take them to heart. He was far from the angry, uncertain child of his youth--and he had, in his own way, made a name for himself. Through hard work, dedication, through his friends. He’d also seen the man Rha had become--and he’d seen the loss of that man, until he was what he saw before him. But when he looked into his eyes long enough, he saw, just for a moment, what he thought were coals and wild horses. “After all you’ve been through, down to the seventh hell and back, cursing the gods all the way--you still believe in Belah’dia.”

[bettername2come]

Be Prepared

Also available here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12813645

Cisco’s name lit up the screen of Oliver’s phone. Oliver sighed. Just once he wished the younger hero would call him with good news.

“Please don’t tell me the wedding is off again,” Oliver said by way of greeting.

“Bite your tongue! No, no, Barry and Iris are getting their day in the sun, no matter what it takes, and, as best man, it is my job to make that happen.”

“So what are you calling me for?”

“If this wedding is going to go off without a hitch, I need all their heroes to bring their A-game. And their weapons. Lots of weapons. And their suits, and I don’t mean tuxedos.”

“Why? Did you vibe something?”

Cisco scoffed. “I don’t need to vibe something to know that putting a couple dozen superheroes in a room together is bound to make us a target for any number of supervillains out there, especially ones from the future, which means I have another call to make when we’re done here.”

“Cisco, you do realize I’m still suspected of being the Green Arrow?”

“What, and that suspicion is going to go away if the Green Arrow isn’t seen in Central City the weekend you’re here for Barry’s wedding? If it didn’t go away the first two times you were exonerated, it won’t happen now.”

“I can’t just walk into the church with a recurve bow. I know people tend to look the other way when they see weird stuff in Central City, but I think that one’ll get their attention.”

“Way ahead of you, man,” Cisco said.

Before Oliver could ask what he meant, a small blue breach opened up and a green box appeared on the console of the lair.

“What is this?” Oliver asked as he opened the box.

“Collapsible bow. Collapses down to about six inches. Easily concealed in a coat pocket with fletchettes.”

“This is crazy.”

“Yeah, well so are our enemies. So will you bring it?”

Oliver sighed. It wasn’t the craziest idea he’d heard. “All right, fine, I’ll bring it.”

“Thank you! Oh, and practice your magic!”

“What?”

“We need to be prepared from all types of enemies – alien, human, meta, magical. Our magical resources are limited, which means you and Amaya need to be ready to go.”

“I can barely counter dark magic, Cisco.”

“Exactly. Which is why you need to practice, in case a time-traveling Damien Darhk follows the Legends here.”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“One good day, that’s all I ask.”

Oliver sighed again. “Fine. I will have the bow and magic standing by.”

“Great. And pass the message on to the rest of the team, not that Felicity would go anywhere without her tablet anyway.”

“So you’re not going to try to claim your just as a good a hacker as she is?”

Cisco scoffed. “Please. If anything goes wrong, I’m gonna need these hands free to breach everyone the hell out of there or blast at bad guys.

“So, you’re really gonna fight this time?”

“Yes, I’m really gonna fight this time. Don’t act like you haven’t seen the YouTube videos.”

*

Sara was standing on the bridge of The Waverider trying to determine the team’s next mission when Gideon interrupted her train of thought.

“Captain, we’re receiving a transmission from November 2017 at STAR Labs. Would you like to receive it?”

“Yes, Gideon, patch it through.”

Suddenly, Cisco’s face filled the video monitor. He laughed. “Great, it worked. Do you know how hard it is to make contact with The Waverider?”

“Well, no one said time travel was easy,” Sara replied. “What’s wrong, Cisco?”

“Nothing that I know of,” Cisco said. “I was actually calling to see if you could check up on that for me. I need to make sure there’s no catastrophes scheduled for November 26, 2017.”

Sara rolled her eyes. “That is a complete abuse of Gideon’s power. She’s a highly powered computer system, not a glorified weather predictor. The wedding is going to be just fine.”

“I’m sorry, does the marriage of one of Earth’s mightiest heroes not sound like something evil time travelers would be interested in?”

“Eobard’s dead, Cisco.”

“Sure, now. But that hasn’t stopped him from screwing up our lives before. And he’s not the only supervillain who might set his sights on Iris and Barry’s special day, so do me a favor and just run the date, would you?”

Sara sighed. “Gideon, check the date.”

“According to my records, there are no major disasters in Central City on November 26 and historical records show that Barry Allen and Iris West were married on that day. Is there anything else you’d like to know, Mr. Ramon?”

“Actually – “

“No, Gideon, he won’t need to know anything else,” Sara said, cutting him off.

“Fine, fine. Hoard the knowledge of the future on a computer that Barry created. Will create. Whatever.”

“I will. The timeline must be preserved.” Did she sound like Rip? Oh, God, she sounded like Rip. Next thing you knew, she’d be speaking with an English accent. “I’ll see you in a few days, Cisco.”

“Wait, there’s one more thing.”

“What?”

“Come to the wedding completely prepared for a fight.”

“I’m always prepared for a fight.”

“I know, just, as much as it pains me to say this, make sure Mick brings the heat gun.”

“He always has the heat gun. Ray will have the Atom suit and everybody else will have their powers on standby. If anybody tries to screw up their wedding, they’ll have to go through us.”

“Wow,” Cisco said. “Y’all are really like a psychotic band of Boy Scouts, aren’t you?”

“Says the guy who just made a call through time to make sure his friends’ wedding went off without a hitch.”

“Fair enough. See you at the wedding.”

*

Kara was doing research on a story at home when the blue swirling vortex appeared in her living room. She jumped up, readying herself for a fight before she remembered just who would be opening a blue wormhole in her living room. Sure enough, a moment later Cisco jumped out of the breach.

“Cisco!” she said, reaching out to hug her fellow hero. “It’s so good to see you. Wait, am I late? I thought the wedding wasn’t until this weekend. Is time moving differently between earths because Winn watched The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe again and we’ve been having this debate – “

“No, you’re not late, everything is fine and your interdimensional extrapolator should be working to get you here when you need to, I just had one teeny question – who’s your plus one?”

“What?”

“It’s the happiest day of their lives, so of course, something is going to go horribly wrong because we can’t have nice things! So I was just wondering if you were bringing Mon-El, because honestly, we’re a little lacking in the alien invulnerability power arena and he’d make a good resource.”

“I – we’re not – Mon-El,” she stuttered. Kara took a deep breath. “Mon-El left earth for a while and he just got back got back from the future with his wife, so no, I will not be bringing him to the wedding.”

“Ouch. I’m sorry.”

Kara waved him off. “Not your fault, I get it. I mean, I didn’t tell you guys when Mon-El left, so it’s not like you could know, and you really couldn’t have predicted that time travel would be screwing up my love life.”

“Actually, that’s pretty normal for our team.”

“Oh, good, well maybe you can help me figure out how to deal with it,” Kara said. “Anyway, I’m bringing Alex because she’s starting to think I made you guys up. And she just broke up with her girlfriend and I think the trip could be good for getting her mind off things.”

“You think a wedding would help her get her mind off of her breakup?”

“I shoot lasers from my eyes, Cisco, do you really want to question how I help my sister?”

Cisco backed up a step. “Why is every woman I know scary? Okay, look, I’m just trying to make sure Barry and Iris’s wedding goes off without a hitch, and you know every time our worlds communicate some kind of huge disaster happens–“

“Barry’s first visit wasn’t a huge disaster – “

“ – and I am just trying to make sure we’re prepared for whatever happens and we’ve already invited a scary black ops secret agent woman to the wedding and Barry’s never even met your sister, so maybe it would be better if brought, say, J’onn, to the wedding.”

“Cisco.”

“What? This could be good for him. He can learn more about our earth, compare differences, chat with Lyla about how to prevent potential alien invasions.”

“Cisco, it’s my invitation, it says plus one and I’m bringing my sister, who’s more than capable of kicking alien ass if it’s a requirement. If you would like J’onn to come, you’re going to have to send another invitation.”

Cisco sighed. “I don’t think that’s going to work. The venue’s packed to capacity as is.”

“Well, good, because I’d feel better knowing J’onn’s looking out for my earth while I’m gone. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Yeah, sure, nothing in our lives is ever fine, but let’s go with that.”

“I will bring the suit and have Alex bring her tactical gear if it makes you feel any better.”

“It does, actually,” Cisco replied. “Okay, I’ll see you Saturday.” And with that, he threw open another breach and crossed back to his world.

*

When the big day came and Iris and Barry’s wedding was literally interrupted by invaders from another world, the first thought to cross Oliver, Sara and Kara’s minds was Crap. He was right.

#the flash #arrow #supergirl #cisco ramon #crisis on earth x #the flash fanfiction