#HELP THE SMOKE GUN AND TRAFFIC SIGNS

[dirt-str1der]

No way someone did a shinada no damage run for the komakis

[roseyreveries]

Hunted

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Part Two <- click!

Summary: Hydra infiltrates SHIELD and takes control of Bucky again, setting the Winter Soldier on course to take out his target: you.

CW: Guns, Violence, Blood, Angst, not very movie accurate, the Avengers being weaker than usual for plot

Directory

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The bass from the radio thrummed in time with my heartbeat as I belted out the lyrics to the song blaring from the speakers. My sister, Maggie, laughed beside me, swaying in her seat, her off-key voice matching mine perfectly. We’d done this a hundred times before—road trips, late-night drives, blasting karaoke-worthy tunes that never failed to lift our spirits. Today was no different; it was just us, the open road, and the kind of freedom that only a highway can bring.

I glanced over at Maggie, her face scrunched up in exaggerated concentration as she hit the high note, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re killing it!” I shouted over the music.

“Please, you’re the one auditioning for a Grammy!” she shot back, winking at me.

The world outside was a blur of cars, the sun dipping low in the sky, painting the horizon in streaks of orange and pink. I felt alive, invincible. But then, out of nowhere, everything changed.

It happened so fast. One moment we were carefree, and the next, I was slamming on the brakes. A figure stepped onto the road, right in front of our car—a man with long dark hair, clad in black, his presence commanding the space like he owned it. But it wasn’t just anyone. It was Bucky Barnes.

My heart seized in my chest. His eyes locked onto mine through the windshield, cold and unyielding. I barely had time to register the large gun in his hands before he aimed it directly at us. My breath caught in my throat, the world around me slowing to a terrifying crawl.

“Holy shit!” Maggie screamed, her hands flying to the dashboard as if she could somehow shield herself from what was about to happen.

The next second, a loud bang echoed, piercing through the chaos of the traffic. I watched, helpless, as a disk shot from the barrel of Bucky’s gun, hurtling straight at us. It slammed into the underside of the car with a deafening thud, and before I could even process what was happening, the world exploded.

The blast sent a shockwave through the car, and we were airborne. The car flipped violently, the screech of metal against asphalt and the shattering of glass filling my ears. My body lurched against the seatbelt, the force knocking the wind out of me as the car tumbled. Up became down, and down became up—everything spinning in a disorienting blur of sound and pain.

My vision flickered, the interior of the car now a shattered mess of broken glass, smoke, and twisted metal. I tried to scream, to reach for Maggie, but my voice was lost in the cacophony. The car finally came to a bone-jarring stop, landing upside down on the road.

For a moment, all I could hear was the ringing in my ears. I blinked, the sharp taste of blood in my mouth, my mind struggling to catch up. Everything hurt—my head, my arms, my chest. My vision was blurred, but I turned to my right, my heart hammering wildly.

“Maggie!” I croaked, the word barely a whisper. She was hanging upside down in her seat, her eyes closed, a small trickle of blood running down her forehead. I reached out, my fingers brushing against her arm, desperately trying to shake her awake.

My hands trembled as I reached out to check Maggie for injuries. I forced myself to focus, pushing through the blinding panic. I ran my hands along her arms, her legs, feeling for breaks or dislocations. Her pulse was strong, steady under my fingertips— a small comfort in the midst of the wreckage. I checked her pupils, watched her chest rise and fall with each shallow breath, all the while praying she would open her eyes and tell me this was all a bad dream.

I knew what to look for— what signs meant danger and what was just superficial. Years of training kicked in, the muscle memory of countless missions and drills guiding me through every step. I wasn’t just a regular sister panicking in the aftermath of a crash. I was more than that, had been for a long time now.

Maggie didn’t know the truth. No one did. To everyone else, I was just me— the sister who sang too loudly, who drove too fast, who lived a life that was seemingly normal. But behind closed doors, under the cover of night and secrecy, I was something else entirely.

I was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Not just any agent, either. I’d climbed the ranks quicker than anyone expected, my skills and determination earning me a seat at the table alongside the Avengers themselves. I’d worked operations so classified, most people wouldn’t even believe they existed. I’d been trained by the best, learned to fight, to strategize, to survive. And now, all of that training, all of those missions, came flooding back in a rush.

Maggie’s injuries were minor—cuts, bruises, a gash on her forehead that looked worse than it was. She’d be okay, at least physically. The relief was so overwhelming, I almost cried. But there was no time for that. I needed to get us out of here before Bucky— or whoever the hell he was working for— made another move.

I glanced outside, taking in the chaos around us. Bucky was still there, his expression as unreadable as ever, but he wasn’t alone anymore. Other figures moved in the shadows, closing in on the wreckage. I cursed under my breath. This wasn’t just a rogue attack; it was a full-blown ambush. And we were smack in the middle of it.

I reached for the hidden compartment in the console, the one Maggie didn’t know about. My fingers brushed the cold metal of my concealed weapon— a sleek, high-tech piece courtesy of Tony Stark himself. I’d been armed and ready, as always, just in case. I hadn’t expected to need it on a karaoke drive with my sister, but that was the life I led— the life no one knew about.

I checked the safety, my eyes flicking to Maggie once more. She was still unconscious, but she’d be okay. I had to believe that. I had to keep her safe, no matter what.

I eased myself out of the wreckage, gun in hand, and moved with purpose. The agents in the shadows were getting closer, and I recognized the insignia on their uniforms. Hydra. Of course. Bucky was working with Hydra— or maybe he was brainwashed again. I didn’t have time to figure it out; all I knew was that we were in serious danger.

Bucky’s eyes met mine, and for a split second, something flickered there. Recognition? Regret? I couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. Right now, he was my enemy, and I had a job to do.

“Stay back!” I shouted, aiming my gun at the nearest Hydra agent. They hesitated, their eyes flicking to Bucky for guidance. My heart pounded, adrenaline surging through my veins. I was outnumbered, outgunned, but I’d been in worse situations. I knew how to handle myself. I knew how to fight.

And I was going to fight like hell to get Maggie out of this alive.

“Bucky,” I called out, my voice steady despite the chaos around me. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but they’re not in charge of you anymore. You’re safe, Buck.”

He hesitated, his grip tightening on his gun. The seconds stretched on, an unbearable tension hanging in the air. I didn’t know if he’d listen, if he even could. But I had to try. For Maggie. For all the people who’d counted on me to keep them safe.

For the person I used to believe Bucky was.

His gaze shifted, something softening in his expression. I held my breath, praying for a miracle. But just as quickly as it came, it vanished, replaced by the cold, unfeeling mask he wore so well.

“Move,” he ordered the Hydra agents, his voice flat, emotionless. The moment was gone. He wasn’t Bucky Barnes, the hero. He was the Winter Soldier. And there was no reasoning with him.

I steeled myself, my grip on the gun firm. If Bucky was going to make me fight, then I would. There was no turning back now.

I stepped forward, adrenaline surging through my veins, and fired the first shot. The Hydra agents scattered, their movements synchronized like a well-oiled machine. They fanned out, ducking behind cars and debris, their weapons raised. I squeezed the trigger again, aiming for the nearest target. The bullet hit its mark, sending the agent sprawling to the ground. But there were too many of them, and I was just one person.

The highway erupted into chaos— bullets whizzed past, shattering the remnants of glass around me. I ducked low, using the twisted metal of our car as cover, my mind racing to formulate a plan. There was no backup coming; it was just me against a small army. But I’d faced worse odds, and I wasn’t about to go down without a fight.

I darted out from behind the car, my movements fluid and precise. I fired off two more shots, dropping another agent before spinning to take cover behind a cement barrier. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a reminder that I was still alive, still fighting.

They kept coming, relentless and determined. I counted at least six, maybe more, their dark uniforms blending into the shadows of the wreckage. I fired again, hitting another in the shoulder, but the rest were closing in, tightening the circle around me. I moved quickly, pivoting and shooting, each motion a calculated effort to keep them at bay.

A bullet grazed my arm, the sharp sting slicing through the adrenaline. I hissed through clenched teeth, ignoring the pain. I had no time to bleed, no time to think. I fired again, but my gun clicked— empty. I ducked behind a nearby car door, my fingers fumbling for another clip, but I came up empty. I was out of ammo.

Shit.

I crouched behind the door, my breath coming in short, ragged bursts. My mind raced, calculating my next move. I could hear the Hydra agents regrouping, their footsteps growing louder, the sound of their weapons being loaded. I glanced down at my gun, flipping it open to confirm what I already knew— no bullets, no way out. My eyes darted around, searching for anything I could use, but the highway was a wasteland of broken cars and debris.

I was trapped.

Then, with a deafening crack, the door was ripped away, torn from its hinges like it was made of paper. I stumbled back, my eyes widening as Bucky stepped forward, his silhouette framed by the chaos beyond. He moved with a lethal grace, his metal arm still raised, the door now discarded at his feet.

I scrambled backward, my hands searching for anything to defend myself, but all I found were shards of glass and twisted metal. Bucky’s gaze was locked onto me, his expression unreadable, his footsteps deliberate and unhurried. He advanced, and I kept retreating, my back hitting the wreckage of another car.

Just as he reached for me, something red streaked through the air, smashing into Bucky with the force of a freight train. The impact sent him flying, his body hurtling across the highway before crashing into the side barrier with a bone-rattling thud. I blinked, stunned, my brain struggling to process what just happened.

I turned my head, and there he was— Iron Man, standing with his fist raised, his helmet gleaming under the dying light of the sun. The red metal glove that had just knocked Bucky out of the way hovered mid-air for a split second before it shot back to his arm, snapping into place with a hiss.

“Thought you only worked at night,” Tony quipped, his voice crackling through the suit’s speakers, though the concern was evident beneath the sarcasm. He didn’t waste a second, his repulsors flaring as he took off to engage the Hydra agents swarming the scene.

I barely had time to register Tony’s arrival before two more figures emerged from the chaos. Black Widow and Hawkeye moved like shadows, their motions fluid and deadly. Natasha’s guns blazed as she took down the agents closest to me, each shot precise and unerring. Clint loosed arrows at an impossible speed, his sharp eyes targeting every Hydra soldier who dared to step forward.

“Go!” Natasha shouted, nodding her head towards the car where Maggie still lay, her voice sharp and commanding. “We’ve got this!”

I snapped back into action, scrambling to my feet and sprinting towards Maggie. She was still unconscious, the faint rise and fall of her chest the only reassurance I needed to know she was still hanging on. I fumbled with her seatbelt, my hands slick with sweat, and pulled her free, cradling her limp form as gently as I could.

I scanned the road, spotting a bystander— a man in his thirties who looked more terrified than I felt. “Help her!” I yelled, thrusting Maggie into his arms. “Take her to the nearest hospital!” He nodded, wide-eyed but willing, and hurried away, cradling my sister as he dashed toward the edge of the highway where it was safer.

With Maggie safely out of immediate harm, I turned back, just in time to see Natasha sprinting towards me. She tossed something in my direction, and I caught it instinctively— two matte black handheld firearms, their sleek, familiar weight grounding me instantly. My usual weapons. The ones that had seen me through countless missions, each nick and scratch a testament to the fights I’d survived.

“Thanks, Nat,” I breathed, loading the guns with a practiced ease. “I owe you one.”

“Just another Tuesday,” she quipped, her eyes scanning the area for threats as we ducked behind a nearby car, taking cover from the barrage of bullets raining down from the Hydra agents still standing. Tony and Clint were keeping most of them busy, but there were still plenty to go around.

I fired off a few rounds, picking off agents as they attempted to advance. The familiar rhythm of combat settled over me, a strange comfort in the midst of the chaos. I turned to Natasha, my voice low but urgent. “What the hell happened? Why is Bucky like this again?”

Natasha grimaced, reloading her guns. “There was a breach at the tower. Hydra got in, and they took Bucky. Managed to wipe everything— reset him completely. He’s back to being the Winter Soldier.”

My stomach dropped, a cold pit forming as her words sank in. “And now he’s trying to kill me?”

“That’s the part we don’t get,” Natasha said, her tone edged with frustration. “The intel we managed to pull says you’re his primary target, but we don’t know why. Whatever programming they shoved into him, it’s all centered on you.”

My mind raced, trying to piece together a motive, a reason— anything that would explain why Hydra would send the Winter Soldier after me, of all people. I thought of every mission, every time I’d crossed paths with them, but nothing added up. I was high up in S.H.I.E.L.D., sure, but I was far from their most dangerous enemy. At least, I thought so.

“We’ll figure it out,” Natasha promised, her eyes meeting mine, fierce and determined. “But first, we get through this. And we stop Bucky before he does something we can’t undo.”

I nodded, steeling myself. I couldn’t afford to think about what might happen if we failed. I had to focus, had to keep fighting, because there was no other option. Not when Bucky was still out there, lost and controlled, a weapon aimed directly at me.

Natasha and I exchanged a glance, and then we moved as one—emerging from cover, weapons blazing. The air was thick with smoke and gunfire, the acrid smell of burning rubber stinging my nose. But I pushed forward, each step driven by the need to protect the people I cared about, to find a way to bring Bucky back from whatever hell he was trapped in.

The battle raged on around us, a whirlwind of gunfire, explosions, and shouting. Tony blasted through Hydra agents, his repulsors sending shockwaves that tore through their ranks. Clint’s arrows flew with pinpoint accuracy, each one taking down an enemy as he moved with effortless grace. Natasha was relentless, her strikes precise and lethal as she fought her way through the chaos.

But Bucky was the eye of the storm, moving with deadly efficiency. He tore through Hydra and Avengers alike, his metal arm swinging with brutal force. Every hit landed with bone-shattering precision, every movement calculated to maim or kill. The Winter Soldier wasn’t just in the fight—he was dominating it.

Tony launched a barrage of energy blasts at Bucky, but Bucky dodged with inhuman reflexes, closing the distance in a matter of seconds. He tackled Tony mid-air, dragging him down to the pavement with a force that cracked the asphalt. Tony hit the ground hard, the impact jarring, but he was up in an instant, firing another repulsor blast that sent Bucky stumbling back.

“Stay down, Tin Man!” Tony growled, taking to the air again, trying to put some distance between them. But Bucky was relentless. He lunged, his metal fist smashing into Tony’s side with a clang that echoed through the highway. Tony’s suit sparked, systems flickering, but he kept fighting, blasting at Bucky with everything he had.

Bucky ducked under Tony’s next attack, moving in close. His metal arm swung up, catching Tony square in the chest. Fingers of steel closed around the arc reactor, the very heart of Tony’s suit. With a vicious twist, Bucky ripped it out, crushing it in his grip. Sparks flew as Tony’s suit shut down, his systems failing with a flicker of dying lights. Tony fell, gasping as the suit collapsed around him, powerless and struggling to breathe.

Natasha rushed in, her movements a blur as she aimed for Bucky’s legs, trying to trip him up. She landed a hit, her boot connecting with the side of his knee, but Bucky barely staggered. He swung his arm, catching her mid-strike, and sent her flying into the wreckage of a nearby car. She hit hard, the impact knocking the wind out of her. Natasha tried to rise, her expression set in determination, but Bucky was already on her. He grabbed her by the throat, lifting her effortlessly before slamming her back down. Natasha gasped, struggling, her hands clawing at his arm, but she couldn’t break free.

Clint loosed an arrow, the projectile striking Bucky’s shoulder with a solid thud. Bucky snarled, releasing Natasha, who crumpled to the ground, clutching her side. Clint fired again, but Bucky deflected it with his metal arm, the arrow splintering against the steel. Bucky moved in, his fist a blur as he knocked Clint’s bow from his hands. Clint ducked under a punch, rolling to the side and grabbing another arrow, but Bucky was faster. His metal arm swung like a sledgehammer, catching Clint across the ribs and sending him crashing into the guardrail. Clint grunted in pain, struggling to get back up, but Bucky was already turning away, his focus shifting.

And then his eyes locked onto me.

A chill ran through me as Bucky turned, his gaze zeroing in like a predator who’d just spotted its prey. I was out of ammo, my guns discarded on the ground, my body aching from the earlier hits. My heart pounded in my chest, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I scrambled backward, my hands searching for anything I could use as a weapon. But all I found were shards of glass and twisted metal, nothing that could stop him.

Bucky advanced, his footsteps slow and deliberate, each one echoing like a drumbeat in my ears. I swung a metal pipe, but he caught it effortlessly, wrenching it from my hands and tossing it aside as if it weighed nothing. I stumbled back, my back hitting the wreckage of a car, nowhere left to run.

“Bucky, please,” I tried, my voice cracking.

He didn’t respond. He was right in front of me now, his expression blank, his eyes cold and empty. There was no sign of the man I knew— only the Winter Soldier, a weapon with one purpose: to eliminate his target.

I swung again, this time with a jagged piece of glass, but he deflected it easily, sending the shards clattering to the ground. His fist slammed into my side, pain exploding in my ribs. I gasped, falling to my knees as the world spun around me. I was exhausted, every part of me screaming to give up, to lie down and let it end.

But I couldn’t. Not with Tony down, Clint barely standing, and Natasha struggling to breathe. I couldn’t let this be the end. Not like this.

I pushed myself up, using the car behind me for support, and faced him. “I know damn well you’re in there somewhere. This is not you, Buck. You need to wake up. Please.”

For a second, Bucky’s arm hesitated, his gaze flickering. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the cold, unyielding stare of the Winter Soldier. He raised his metal arm, poised to strike, ready to finish what he started.

In that moment, everything seemed to slow. I could hear the faint sound of Tony struggling to get his suit back online, Clint’s pained breathing, Natasha’s quiet groan as she tried to push herself up. And Bucky, standing over me, ready to deliver the final blow.

Bucky’s metal arm was raised, ready to deliver the final blow. My heart pounded so violently I thought it might burst from my chest, every instinct screaming at me to survive, but I was cornered, and there was nowhere left to run. I stared up at him, my breath hitching in terror as I crumbled against the wreckage, tears streaming down my face. The Bucky I knew isn’t there anymore. This is it.

“Please, Bucky,” I sobbed, my voice breaking under the weight of my fear. “Please don’t do this. Please! I don’t want to die.”

My words were a desperate, frantic plea, spilling out in a torrent of terror as I shook uncontrollably. His expression was blank, his eyes cold and unfeeling as he loomed over me. I pressed myself further back against the twisted metal, trying to make myself as small as possible, but there was no escaping him. I could barely breathe through the sobs racking my chest, each breath coming in panicked gasps.

“Bucky, I’m begging you!” I cried, my voice cracking. “You don’t have to do this. Please… please, let me live!” The words were tumbling out of me, broken and raw, and I was shaking so hard I could barely get them out. “I’m not your enemy! Bucky, please!”

His arm didn’t falter, his face a mask of cold determination. I squeezed my eyes shut, my entire body wracked with sobs as I screamed, “Please, Bucky!” The second I saw his arm swing down, I looked the other way and screamed, “I love you! I love you!”

The words ripped out of me, raw and desperate, cutting through the chaos. I opened my eyes to see what had happened. Why wasn’t I hit? His arm was stopped, freezing mid-swing. His eyes widened, confusion flickering across his features as if he were suddenly woken from a trance. The soldier’s unyielding stare gave way to something else—something conflicted, like he was struggling to understand.

Bucky stumbled back, his hand flying to his head as if he were trying to claw the commands out of his mind. He groaned, a guttural sound of pain that echoed in my ears. I watched, tears still streaming down my face, as he fought with himself, his body convulsing with the effort to regain control. His breaths were ragged, each one a struggle against the chains of Hydra’s programming.

He let out a tortured scream, the sound filled with agony as he staggered back, his fingers digging into his scalp. His metal arm jerked erratically, twitching as if caught between following orders and breaking free. It was like watching someone try to tear themselves apart from the inside out. My heart ached at the sight, every second a painful reminder of how deeply he was trapped.

“Bucky…” I whispered, my voice trembling as I reached out a hand, but he didn’t hear me. He was lost in the battle within his mind, his body shaking violently as he continued to scream, his face contorted in a mask of pain and fury.

His feet shuffled back further, his back hitting a crumpled car as he slumped down, his hands clutching his head. He pounded his fist against the ground, each hit sending cracks through the pavement, each hit an attempt to silence the war inside his own head. I wanted to reach out, to help him, but I couldn’t move, my own body weakened from the fight and the fear.

As Bucky struggled, I heard the distant sound of heavy footsteps— the unmistakable thud of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents rushing in. My vision blurred, the adrenaline finally wearing off and leaving a dull, throbbing pain in its place. The world around me began to fade, the sounds of Bucky’s anguished cries and the agents shouting orders blending into a muffled haze.

I tried to keep my eyes open, to hold on just a little longer, but my strength was gone. My body slumped, the last of my energy spent as darkness crept in at the edges of my vision. The last thing I saw was Bucky, still fighting against the storm in his mind, and then everything went black.

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The British Connection - ch. 11

Summary: Grace Mallory makes a reluctant Billy Butcher and The Boys team up with an MI6 operative sent over from London to track down a dangerous supe killing people on both sides of the pond. Billy is being his usual arsehole self but maybe opposites attract?

It's 14 chapters and complete and 'll be posting a new chapter every day

Warnings: canon typical violence, smut, fluff, Butcher being his usual grumpy and unreasonable self, nasty supes, guns etc.

Eve took the stairs up to her flat, feeling herself smile like a fool from the short ride over with Butcher. The touch of his thumb across her lip had left a warm feeling that seemed to linger even now and she knew she was getting into dangerous territory by letting him continue to flirt. But she couldn’t seem to stop, the way his dimples came out when he gave her a genuine smile made her want to kiss them.

“I’ve got to stay focused, there’s too much at stake here.” She shook her head as she got to her door and unlocked it. There’s too many emotions in your head already, Eve, you don’t need the distraction of Billy in there too. She sighed and locked the door behind her, pulling off her boots and suddenly remembering she had no coat. Fuck. Eve pulled on her boots again and left the flat, realising she would need to buy a new one before tonight. 

The short January evening was already dark when Butcher rang Eve and told her he’d be there to pick her up in twenty minutes. After buying a new winter coat she’d written up her report for Vauxhall and had a nap, preparing for a long surveillance session. When Butcher rang she’d just stepped out of the shower and was getting ready for the night. 

She stepped out onto the street, Butcher’s car already parked in front, waiting for her. 

“ ‘ello, gorgeous,” he greeted her with a grin as she got into the car. 

“Hello, Butcher,” she sighed back at him but she couldn’t help smiling too and he saw it, grinning wider. 

“I brought snacks for the night,” she said and held up a bag from the bodega on the corner. 

“Lemme guess, more bananas?” Butcher replied as he pulled out into traffic. 

“Yes, but I also got all the weird American sweets I used to see on the telly as a kid. And some crisps and soft drinks,” Eve rummaged through the bag, holding up various items, “They’ve got some seriously odd sweets in this country, I mean, cinnamon chewing gum?”

“Their chocolate is absolute rubbish too,” Butcher grabbed the Hershey’s bar Eve was holding up, “This stuff is inedible, give me proper Cadbury’s anyday over this shite.”

“And what’s the deal with this KitKat?” she held up a red and white chocolate bar, “It doesn’t even look like a proper KitKat, have you tried it?”

“Ye, it’s alright but it doesn't taste the same.” 

“I figured if it’s a quiet night we can always have a taste testing evening,” Eve packed up the snack bag and put it between her legs and looked out at the neighbourhood, the scenery changing as Butcher drove the car up onto FDR and headed north towards the Bronx. 

“Any news from MM during the day?” Eve asked.

“No, and no sign of the supe. MM and Frenchie went in the back way, using the high vis vest and ladder tactic,” he grinned at her before looking back at the road. “Managed to install cameras in the supes bedroom under the guise of being Health and Safety inspectors checking the smoke detectors. And Hughie got us into the hotel’s security system so we have access to the cameras they already had installed in the lift and the hallway.” 

“That’s good, as long as McKay returns to the hotel we’ll have full surveillance on him.” 

“Ye, Frenchie went in and got confirmation of him still staying there from the guy at the front desk. Spun him some story about making a delivery. The guy probably thinks it’s drug related but at this place that doesn’t matter.” 

It took them about half an hour to reach The View Point Hotel, a run down looking place on a rough looking street. Butcher’s beat up car didn’t look out of place at all and Eve realised this was probably part of why he drove it. He pulled up a few cars behind a nondescript beige van parked half a block down from the hotel and they got out. The street was empty apart from a few young men hanging out down by the liquor store on the corner. They all turned and looked over at Butcher and Eve and Eve was suddenly very thankful, not only for the gun under her left arm, but also for Butcher’s presence. 

Butcher and Eve scanned the street as they walked over to the van, Eve casting her eyes over the windows in the apartment buildings on both sides of the street. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary but being close to the supe’s last known location was making her edgy. The way he had taken control over her last night was still fresh in her memory, she’d had no warning, just a chunk of time missing. She was determined to not let the supe get the drop on her like that again. 

Butcher lightly tapped his knuckles on the van and after a few seconds MM opened up. 

“Hey, man, right on time,” he said as he moved back to let Butcher and Eve in. Behind him Hughie was sitting on one of the chairs by the monitors that showed the inside of the hotel. 

“Anythin’ to report?” Butcher asked. 

“Na, it’s been quiet all day, McKey isn’t back yet and no one has been in the room.”

Hughie shifted in his seat and stretched, “We did find out that the day shift manager likes to make out with one of the cleaning ladies in the elevator though.” 

“Find out if he’s married, might be a nice piece of information to squeeze him with if we need to,” Butcher said and sat down on the seat as Hughie stood up. 

“I don’t think the dude gives a fuck if anyone knows, but I’ll find out,” MM said as he got his things together, “Frenchie and Kimiko on the next shift right?” 

“Ye, told ‘em to be here at eight. We’ll get some sleep tomorrow morning and meet you at the office around lunch tomorrow if nothing else happens.” 

MM and Hughie left the van and Butcher shut the door, locking it behind them. Eve had settled down on the second chair and was studying the monitors. The hotel was quiet and no people could be seen moving through the hallway outside the supe’s room. 

“ ‘Ere,” Butcher pulled a paper bag from the duffel bag he brought, “Got us some better dinner than fuckin’ Hershey’s and KitKat.” He unwrapped a couple of Shake Shack burgers and handed one to Eve together with a box of chips. 

“Thanks, looks good. I didn’t even think about proper food to be honest.” 

They ate in silence for a few minutes, watching the monitors. 

“So, how do we do this?” Eve asked, swallowing down the last of her burger, “How do we take this guy down if he comes back here?” She grabbed a couple of chips and waved them at the monitor, “We’re going to need to get to him when he’s either sleeping or otherwise incapacitated.”

“Sneakin’ up on a sleeping supe does not sound ideal but it may be our only way,” Butcher replied, his brow furrowed as he looked over at Eve, considering her question. 

“I don’t have much experience with supes but are they susceptible to drugs at all? Can they be sedated or knocked out?” Eve asked. 

“Ye, most of them will be knocked out if you give them enough. The strongest ones are tougher but most will go down provided they’re hit with a strong enough dose,” Butcher wiped his beard with a napkin and tossed the crumpled burger wrapper in the bag. 

“Do you think we could get access to something strong enough for this guy?” 

“Ye, that won’t be a problem, the problem is how do we get it into him? Both you and I have been made by him, can’t exactly walk up to him and give him an injection. And I won’t let anyone else do it in case it doesn’t work, he’ll take control of that person the second he feels threatened,” He scratched his beard and turned back to the monitor, “But I like the idea of drugging him. Question is, how?” 

They sat silence for a while, working through the problem while they finished their meal. 

“The way I see it, we can get it into him in three ways,” Eve finally said, “injection, gas or food, right?”

“Ye, sounds about right,” Butcher said. “But gas won’t work, we need to get close in a fairly closed off space and by the time the canister is on the ground he’ll have taken control of one of us.” 

“That’s what I was thinking too,” Eve nodded. “And food is difficult, we’ll need to get access to his food or drink. Maybe we could intercept a delivery guy if he orders in but that’s going to take perfect timing, if he even orders food.”

“So injection then?” Butcher asked and looked over at Eve again as she raked her fingers through her hair as if she was trying to force her brain to come up with a solution. 

Suddenly she looked over at Butcher, “What about a tranquiliser gun? Could you get hold of one of those? There’s a few modified sniper rifles that can shoot tranq shots from a pretty good distance.” 

Butcher rubbed his beard as he thought through her suggestion, “Ye, that might work. We’ll get only one shot, if we miss we’ll spook him. But if we miss we’ll be out of sight and he won’t know who shot him.” 

“And if it works he’ll be down for the count long enough for us to get him under control, blindfold and cover his hands.” 

“We might even be able to shoot him through the hotel window, it’s facing the street,” Butcher pointed at the monitor showing the inside of McKay’s room. “I’ll ring Frenchie and get the gear together. Mallory might help us with some of it but Frenchie is our weapons expert.” 

“Alright, so we have an inkling of a plan at least, now let’s just hope he shows up,” Eve said and leaned back in her chair, putting her boots up on the ledge. 

Butcher made the call to Frenchie and settled in on the chair next to Eve, both of them keeping an eye on the monitors as they went through the snacks Eve had bought. Most got tossed back in the bag after a couple of bites but Butcher polished off the KitKat after giving a piece to Eve.  

As Butcher crumpled up the wrapper and tossed it in the bag he glanced over at Eve. 

“You know, I knew something was off with you when you showed us the CCTV footage of the two first killings, on the first day,” Butcher said, “That’s why I did the digging on ya and forced Mallory to give me your file.” 

“What do you mean?” Eve asked. 

“Someone like you, or me, we don’t look away just because someone gets killed. And when the first guy got his head bashed in you didn’t even flinch, and that video was in colour an’ all. But the second video, of your niece and your dad, you had your eyes on your boots when she did it. I was watching you. I knew there was something you weren’t telling me then. And then you did the same thing when you and I watched the footage again the other night too.”

“I keep trying not to think about it, just treat it as a job, Butcher. But seeing it…” Eve trailed off, looking at the monitors showing the dark interior of the hotel room. He looked at her but didn't say anything, her face was struggling to repress the memory. 

“Ye, I know what you mean,” Butcher said eventually in a low voice. He adjusted one of the dials and the screen flickered and went steady again. Eve glanced over at him and saw the change in his face. The usually hard line of his mouth, the furrowed brow, has shifted into something akin to pain. He wasn’t seeing the screen in front of him anymore and he dropped his hand from the dial.

“Who?” she asked quietly. 

“My wife. About a year ago.” Butcher said after a moment's silence, looking up towards the ceiling of the van, blinking his eyes. “It’s a long story but it was a supe. She got in the way and it killed her. I was there and I could do fuck all to save her.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Ye, well, like MM said, we all have skin in the game,” Butcher shrugged his shoulders as if he’s trying to shake the memory. 

Eve looked over at him and then back at the monitors, “I think it’s hard to do what we do if there’s not a personal stake, this life, the sacrifices. Lying to those we love, hiding what we do,” Eve sighed, “I can barely remember the last time I had a normal relationship with anyone, not even my family.” She looked over at Butcher again, “At least you managed to find someone, be grateful for that and the time you had with her. Even if the rest of it is only pain”

Butcher rubbed his face with his hand and sighed, “She would’ve had a better life if she hadn’t met me.” 

“You don’t know that, Butcher,” Eve said softly. Butcher didn't reply and they sat in silence for a while. 

“I had someone too,” Eve said finally, almost in a whisper. “He’s not in my file because MI6 didn’t know about him,” Her hand went to the necklace under her jumper, “I got him killed.” 

“Who?” Butcher asked, he’s looking over at her now. 

“Jack,” Eve smiled weakly as she said his name, “He was in my unit and we broke regulations by getting involved. But it was like we couldn’t stop it. He was like a drug to me, I couldn’t get enough of him,” Eve’s hand absentmindedly toyed with her necklace and Butcher realised it was a set of dog tags. “When we were on leave we’d go back to his flat in London and he’d make me breakfast in bed. He’d make the most god awful beans on toast and I didn’t have the heart to tell him. Who can’t even make beans on toast?” she smiled at Butcher. “I was just happy to have someone who knew who I was and who wanted to be with me.” Eve fell silent and Butcher could see her mind going back to her time with Jack. 

“You remind me of him, Billy,” she said at last and Butcher noticed that she used his first name. “Same background, same giant chip on your shoulders about where you come from, same hard casing.” 

“I don’t have a fucking chip on my shoulder,” Butcher protested.

“So you’re just fine working with someone with my background? Come off it, Billy. I knew it would be an issue from the second you heard my accent when Mallory introduced us.”

Butcher grumbled, he couldn’t really deny it. 

“Ye, well I’ve had enough right cunts with your accents as my CO’s over the years. You lot don’t half know how to insult an entire regiment of East End boys.” 

“Yeah, I know the type, they’re not too diplomatic when it comes to women in the service either,” Eve said, shaking her head. 

“Are they his?” Billy asked, nodding at the necklace that Eve was still holding. 

Eve looked down at the dog tags she was toying with, “Yes, Cochran gave them to me after...afterwards.” 

“How did he die? Jack, I mean,” Butcher asked after a few minutes of silence in the van. 

“He was the one who got killed when we took out the paras that had my brother and mother,” Eve pulled her eyebrows together and Butcher saw the tears welling up in her eyes at the memory. 

“He was there because of me. He was only there because I asked him and he said yes because he loved me,” Eve drew a deep shaky breath, “So you see Butcher, you and I are more alike than you think. People we love die in front of us and there’s fuck all we can do.”

Butcher sighed deeply and looked at his boots, he could hear Eve trying to control her breath in little gasps. Finally he scooted his chair over so that he was next to hers. Putting his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her close. 

“You’re alright, luv,” he said, letting her head rest on his shoulder, “you’re alright.” 

Chapter 12

[lazydreamsublime]

Do You Pinky Promise

CH.3

Got Trust Issues, I admit it, Scar Tissue to Prevent The Pain That Waits

Summary: Things slowly return to normal, with the exception of Silco's now frequent visits. You can finally relax in your home - wait……no the hell they didn’t. 

Triggers: There is drug abuse, there is violence, different kinds of smokes and child abuse in this story. Please be mindful of the following content.

Silco x addict!f!reader

Graphic depictions of violence in this chapter!!

Chapter1 Chapter2 Chapter4

Another month has passed. Silco is visiting weekly now, mainly on Thursdays. He comes in, asks how you're feeling, if there's been any changes in work. Of course, he doesn't believe a word you say, so he inspects your hands and face to see any obvious signs of decline. He doesn't, and he leaves it be.

He’s actually declared that you’re fine now. Funny it only took two months to convince him. ‘You’re more capable than I give you credit for’ he said. He still visits though for some reason. Anytime you ask he just responds how it’s his facility, he’ll do as he likes. When asking the other Factory executives, they share that they rarely ever see the guy. So why you? Why Here?

Next to that, when you're working around him you can feel his eyes burning into your back. Yet when you turn around, he’s focussed on something else entirely. You swear he’s watching you. You can’t help but be paranoid around him.

Other than that, work has been steady. You have hired guns with every transport now, and none have caused trouble yet. Silco is still hesitant on your decisions, and if you're honest - so are you. Like hell you'll tell HIM that though. No, you just take extra precautions when dealing with them.

You pay them half at the beginning, and the receiving facility pays the other half when the cargo arrives. You've made sure everyone is clear on these rules, and they all agreed. It's been working surprisingly well.

Now, it's Sunday. It feels like it's been forever since you've had a break. It's also been a while since you and Sevika sparred.

Sevika has a friend who owns a gym. The equipment isn't in the best condition but it does the job. It's actually more foot traffic than you thought, judging by the crowd that was forming around you two.

Now, contrary to popular belief, you are a DAMN good fighter. Sevika may be bigger than you, but you've managed to make her lose her balance. And with that, all you had to do was make sure she stayed down. She's even tapped out a few times.

Between the two of you, it was a pretty even match. While she fights with brute strength, you fight her with her own weight. A trick your old man taught you before he up and left for topside.

By the end of it, Sevika won. You stand there, hunched over panting, as she accepts 'congratulations' from the betters in the crowd.

It was a fucking sparring match. What the hell?

You both sat down together now. Taking a smoke/water break.

You spoke up to her immediately though, "Hey Sev? Can you do me a favor in the future?"

"Depends."

"Don't give my pills to Silco anymore. If you can't show up, then I wait another day. It's not the end of the world."

She laughs at you, "It must've been pretty bad if it has you thinking of going a day without these things." She holds up a bag of what you can clearly see is two new bottles.

"Sevika, I still have the one. It's still full."

"Well, now you're ahead. No nasty withdrawal symptoms."

"People are gonna start thinking you're my dealer."

"At this point? Might as well be. Just be glad I don't charge you."

"And why don't you? This shit is a pain to get, it's all from topside."

"Hey, I make plenty of money at my current job thank you. Besides, I guess…you're supposed to go out of your way to do shit for stupid people like you."

……Was…was that?

"Was that your way of saying, you care?"

"That's my way of saying, I've seen how bitchy you are without your 'candy'. You not being that shitty is payment enough."

You laughed at that, agreeing with her. You weren't the best person when off your meds. But that was the closest you were ever getting to being called a friend by Sevika.

It was nice to know she felt that way.

Has nice as it felt, you did not like the sentimental feeling that is now looming over you. Topic change, now.

"You got any plans after this Sevika? Meet a nice girl? Get some drinks with her? Maybe spend the night at her place?"

She actually barks a laugh at that, "With my line of work? You actually thought I'd have time for that? No, unfortunately the boss is calling everyone in. We got some business to take care of."

"Wow, everyone needs to be in for that?"

"Sorry, I can't go into detail for why."

"I understand, just business."

Sevika gets up and starts getting ready to leave.

"What about you? Got any plans?"

"Mmm, thinking about taking Tammy out for a walk."

"Doesn't she just go off on her own now?"

"She does but everytime I come home she's whining and holding her leash. She misses going out together."

"God, you're such a sap."

You chuckle at her response and help her with her poncho.

"You still need to tell me what exactly happened with your arm. You haven't told me shit yet."

She looked right at you, "Just business." And walked away.

Back at the house, as you said before, your Saint Bernard, Tammy, was there holding her leash whining to spend time with you.

"I know Tamtam, let me look over these forums real quick and then we'll walk around."

Just because you weren't physically at work doesn't mean you didn't take some home. All you had to do was confirm the shimmer transport anyway. Shouldn't take long.

You were looking over the documents of the last transport when you got a gut feeling. When comparing your numbers with the neighbor factorie's everything added up correctly. So why was stockpile incorrect?

You kept looking until you got to the signature that passed everything. You knew EVERY managers signature, just so you knew if anyone screwed up.

THIS WAS FORGED.

You were beyond pissed that anyone would even try this. You grabbed your shotgun from the gun cabinet and turned to Tammy, who could sense that something was up.

"Want to play fetch instead girl?"

Silco was not a patient man. If a mistake is made he understands, but if it happens again he is not so understanding. When questioning the east side factory manager on why there was a shortage of shimmer coming from here, he was met with nothing but a confused look.

Sevika held the man down in his seat while Silco drew out a knife from his jacket.

The man started talking quickly, "I-I don't know! Everything has always been in order!"

"Mistakes are already an annoyance. Ignorance is unforgivable."

Before he could start cutting, the door to the main office is kicked down. There you standing with a double barrel shotgun and a Saint Bernard at your side, baring it's teeth.

You look at him, then at Sevika. "THIS is just business? Torturing my coworker?"

Silco jumped in before Sevika could retort, "Leave. This does not concern you."

Silco turned back around facing the manager again, only to now realize just how upset you were.

"Actually asshole, it does. More than you think. So how about you move the fuck aside while I deal with this problem."

He whipped back around facing you again after that, with a look that could kill. That doesn't even make you hesitant.

"He's not the guy you want anyway! All the more reason for me to take the reigns, since you're obviously way to impatient to follow the obvious thread that'll lead you to who you really want. So move aside asshole, before I make you."

Your dog barks at him while you walk towards the terrified and confused man.

"Sorry about all this Gary."

"Can you just tell me what's going on?" His voice was far too shaky to be taken seriously.

You threw some papers in front of him on his desk. Silco recognized them as the stockpile and cargo docs.

"Tell me who was in the inbound position and in charge of this truck."

Gary looked over the documents you tossed at him. Silco couldn't help but note how intimidated the man was of you. He can't help but wonder what else you've done.

"This - this was Dan. He was stationed there then - I didn't sign ANY of this!"

"I know." After your curt reply you start walking out, "Tammy, nāc."

The dog follows her out.

Silco follows closely after you, only for you to hop off one of the catwalks to roll onto the ground floor. When he looks down he sees four other people with you.

One was Santos, your secretary of sorts. Another was a bulky one that was holding down a man in a chair so he couldn't leave, much like Sevika was with Gary. Only difference is this poor sod had his hands bound as well. The last two you brought with looked to be paramedics. Of course they didn't have the attire, but the equipment they carried hinted at medical support. And this was taking place in the middle of the factory. In front of everyone.

Just what were you planning?

You approached the man in the chair - who he assumed was Dan - with this slow menacing walk that had even him on edge.

In a different way from everyone else, he's sure of that, but still on edge.

He saw your pet catch up with you, after taking the stairs, and take it's place at your side again. He decided to follow it's example and rush down the stairs as well.

He HAD to see what happened.

"Well would you look at that Dan! That's two against one!" He could hear your voice from the stairs, you sounded unhinged. He moved faster.

"You're really taking Gary's word over mine!? Hotshot, we've known each other for years! The fact you don't trust me on this hurts my feelings-"

"I'm giving you two chances, but you won't like it once we get to the second."

Silco had made his way through the crowd and got there just in time to see you place the barrel of the gun on top of his left leg.

“Who did you sell it to?”

Dan looked at everyone around him with a forced smile, "She isn't serious everyone! She's a jokester like that! It's just a thing of ours! Everything's fine-!"

The second a loud boom was heard, Dan's leg was nothing but chunks of flesh on the floor amongst a pink mist.

Blood splattered over five feet away into the crowd, gore dripping from people’s hair. Eyes were wide in horror at what they just witnessed. Silco’s was more shock than horror.

He looks at you again, noting the uncaring look in your eyes as you gazed at the man screaming in pain and agony. He can’t even make himself care about the noise. He was fixated on you. Covered head to toe in the blood of a traitor, how tall you made yourself stand over his squirming body.

He can’t help but admire you. You’re breathtaking like this. You’re beautiful.

You’re powerful.

The women holding Dan down had to use more force after the shot. He was squirming in all different ways screaming. She was glad you tied up his hands.

You smacked your hand over his mouth to shut him up. “I warned you, didn't I? You wouldn’t like it?” You crouch down and squat in front of him, your hand still on him.

“Let’s try this again. Answer my question, and those guys over there will patch you up.” You gesture to your ‘doctors’ standing to the side. “Otherwise we can leave you here to bleed out.”

You take your hand back and he immediately starts screaming a name, almost hysterically.

“BRENT!!! IT WAS BRENT!!”

Everyone in the room felt the air change instantly. No one knew why, no one but Silco. He remembers the spy he sent out relaying to him what happened. He remembers that name and what it means to you. You look ready to snap.

You raised your hand and snapped your fingers. Medical assistance came over and started on patching his le- eerrr, nub.

You stood up again, whispered something to Santos, walked away and out of the building. Tammy followed.

And so did Silco.

You walked down empty streets alone, until you heard your name from behind. You turned to see Silco walking towards you.

“If you came here to lecture me on my methods, save it for morning-”

“I planned on nothing of the sort.”

“....What do you want, Silco?”

He paused, he didn’t really know what he wanted right now. He just needed to speak with you. Ever since the beginning, he’s wanted something. It’s why he’s made the excuse to check on your performance, why he teased you with your addiction, and now making random visits to the factory. He wants SOMETHING, but he doesn’t know what. Just a chat? You don’t look much in the mood for that.

“You knew the colluder?”

“He at least wasn’t lying about that. Yeah, we knew each other for years. He’d always get in trouble and I’d bail him out. There were times where he’d help me too. I don’t know when or how things changed though. But now I think I have more of an idea.”

Right. Brent. He had a feeling you’d be going after him, and he won’t be able to stop you.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

He didn’t realize he’d been staring at you.

“Look, I’m really fucking tired tonight, okay? Can this wait another day?”

You start walking again and he just watches. He doesn’t know what to say to you, to at least ease the pain.

Wait.

You hear your name again and turn around once more, looking more irritable. You don’t say anything.

“You’re not the only one to feel the pain of betrayal.”

Once he said that, he could see you struggling to keep it together. He could see you brows curl up more, eyes watering - you look away so he can’t see you breaking on the inside. He understands. And yet for some reason, he puts his arms out. Not real wide, but enough for an invitation.

You look at him confused, all he says is, “No one should know such suffering. Especially alone.”

In a moment of weakness, you run into his arms. You hold on to him tightly crying your eyes out. You’re very quiet, refuse to show more than you already have. He doesn’t mind however, the feeling of want he’s had for two months now has finally subsided - at least slightly.

So here you two stand, hugging each other, in the middle of a lone empty street. With Tammy looking up at you both with her head cocked to the side

[umameva]

So I am back from my 20 days long US trip (with my friend!!!!) and here are the thing that absolutely destroyed me as an european who lives on a small island:

- people are saying "how are you" when you say hello to them..... yikes.... please wait until you're lvl 5 of friendship with me before asking how I am

- TAXES!!!!! You think you're going to pay this item $2? You've been bambzooled! Taxes are not written on the price tag.

- YOU CAN TURN ON RED AT TRAFFIC LIGHTS? I thought I was going to get arrested everytime I did that

- driving on a 5 lanes highway as if it's normal wait it is for americans I guess but wtf I've never been around so many cars... my whole body was sweating

- everything u need to know is written on signs when driving. No entry? You have the sign + it's written on it! Lovely! Very helpful,I wish it was like that everywhere

- "no smoking" "no guns" written in publics spaces.....

- no one uses their handbrake bc they don't need to... I felt like I was naked when I left the car without pulling the handbrake

- driving an automatic, forgetting that you do in the middle of the drive and trying to switch gears all of a sudden

- when you lock your car more than once it HONKS!!!!!!!

- car related again but: MIRRORS !!! European side mirrors are different than US ones (convex VS planar mirror) so the first time you drive you feel like your vision is funked!

- THE GAP BETWEEN DOOR AND FLOOR IN pUBLIC BATHROOMs! Bro everybody could see me piss I swear to god

I think that's all... Great experience overall!!! And the places I visited (national parks) were very accessible to people, everything was well explained, and you could fill your water bottle everywhere for free!

I can't wait to go back again and visit more of the US !

[radioduo]

moonlight confrontations || dsmp become human au

word count: 1,832

notes: the next part of the dream smp dbh au! this took a sad amount of time to get done, but i actually like it, so i say it’s worth it! per usual, tell me if i fuck something up in the story, characterization, or even just spelling. feedback is appreciated!

first

writing is below the cut! if you see this edit, put in the tags or reply with your choice at the end :]

Ranboo watched silently as the detectives all milled around him and investigated the crime scene. Some whisked past him without so much as an 'excuse me,' while others just shoved the android out of the way. He didn’t mind much. They, not unlike Ranboo himself, had a job to do and a case to solve.

A missing android was reported early that morning by a distressed family. It had allegedly grabbed some of their belongings and vanished without a trace. Ranboo couldn't say he blamed the thing for running. From the look of it, the people must have treated it poorly. Trash littered the floor, and drops of blue blood painted the dirty cream walls. The room looked hazy, as though blanketed with a thin cloud of cigarette smoke.

Ranboo was almost glad he lacked a sense of smell. The blurry look of the room by itself was enough to impair his optical units and he couldn't imagine what the odor would do to his biocomponents. He shook his head and moved over to a corner of the living room. He adjusted his sunglasses, removed his glove, and touched a finger to the small blue blood trail that dripped down the walls.

Ranboo jumped. He turned around and saw Lieutenant Sam Greene, the head of deviancy cases. “Is it anything we can use?” he asked. It was hard to see Sam's expression behind the green mask he always wore, but the curiosity in the lieutenant’s voice was unmistakable.

“I haven’t analyzed it yet, but something tells me it's probably going to be useful information,” Ranboo said, turning away from the lieutenant’s watchful eyes. He removed his mask to touch the blood to his tongue for a scan.

Thirium 310

Fresh

Model GS400

Serial# 325 103 673

“Model GS400,” Ranboo murmured. He put his mask back on and faced Sam. “It’s fresh, maybe about half an hour old. Maybe that’s long enough to have escaped.” He turned to face the lieutenant all the way. “Has everyone looked around the premises of the house, or are there more places we need to check?”

Sam furrowed his brows in thought and swept his gaze over the smoky room. “We’ve checked the entire interior. The kitchen, the bathrooms, the bedrooms, everything. We found nothing on either floor,” he replied. He sounded frustrated. “I no clue what we might’ve missed here.”

Ranboo glanced around, his gray gaze sweeping the hazy room. As he looked around, a thought occurred to him. His eyes landed on the exit to the back garden. “What if it wasn’t in the house anymore?” Ranboo thought aloud. “What if it was lying in wait outside the house?” He bustled towards the door. “No one looked in the garden when we first arrived, and patrol cars have been out back the entire time. The android was found missing only 20 minutes after it had left, so if my hunch is correct,” Ranboo flung open the garden door. “It’ll be trapped.”

Ranboo stepped outside. The night breeze ruffled his jacket, and for a moment, the android forgot he was there to be arresting someone. He grimaced but stepped further into the garden.

Compared to the inside, the outside was surprisingly well-kept. Purple clematis flowers crept up white trellises, and a large weeping willow stood tall in the corner of the yard. Its leaves hung low enough to touch the grass below. Rain pattered against the pavement as Ranboo scanned the tall weeds for any sign of movement. Sam and a few other officers followed after him, but they said nothing as the android swept his gaze across the weeds and plants.

Suddenly, there was a rustling noise from where the great branches slumped. The android's attention shot over to the tall tree, and he hurried to look around. His eyes narrowed in suspicion but found nothing. Ranboo frowned. He had just turned to search somewhere else when all of a sudden, a branch had snapped and fallen to the ground right next to the android detective. Ranboo barely managed to roll out of the way of the twigs and leaves before his legs got crushed.

He landed in the grass and touched his face. A jolt of fear shot through him as he realized his sunglasses had fallen off. Ranboo rooted around in the grass for them. Even while in danger, he couldn’t risk people seeing his malfunctioning design. He felt the plastic in his grasp at last and quickly shoved the glasses over his eyes. He was about to relax for a moment when a shout from Lieutenant Greene startled him.

“Ranboo! There it is!” Sam yelled.

Ranboo snapped his attention to where a female android was scrambling to her feet and sprinting to the back gate. He leaped to his feet and took off after the startled deviant with Sam and the rest of the officers hot on his trail.

The deviant had slammed the gate shut behind her. Ranboo paused. One moment he was in the backyard, and the next he was hopping the fence with cheetah-like agility. He swiftly found the deviant’s trail, and the two wove in and out of the trees, kicking up dirt and leaves. “Stop! Stop right there!” Ranboo shouted to the deviant. “Freeze, or we’ll shoot!”

She glared at the officers behind her but didn’t stop. Instead, she took a sharp turn in the direction of the busy Detroit highway. The trees parted as the sound of speeding cars drew nearer. The pink-haired android paused, chest heaving, and bounded over the railing. She darted in front of cars, wove through traffic, and finally hopped the barrier on the other side.

Ranboo grimaced as he pursued her. He wasn't fond of the risk he had to take. It was fast, but it only had a 60% survival rate. He knew that Lieutenant Greene wouldn’t be able to follow him across, but he couldn't risk letting the deviant escape. He wrestled with his options for a moment, and finally huffed out a sigh. “Sorry, Lieutenant!” he called behind him. Ranboo took a deep breath and vaulted over the barrier into the busy street. He could feel his thirium pump regulator pounding in his chest like a drum as cars whizzed past him. The sound of screeching tires and honking horns filled his ears, and he fought the urge to apologize to the drivers as he hopped the barrier on the other side.

The female android looked over her shoulder, eyes widening as she saw Ranboo behind her. She immediately sped up her pace, turning every which way to try and throw the android detective off her trail. She turned around, most likely to say something to Ranboo when her foot caught on a tree root, and she stumbled. She let out a cry of surprise as she fell to the ground.

Ranboo was right behind her. He leaped over the root with ease and came up a few feet in front of her. “Stay there,” he ordered, aiming his gun. “You have nowhere to go now. Okay?”

The deviant looked up at him defiantly, but she did as she was told. “What are you gonna do?” She asked. “Shoot me? You wouldn’t do that to one of your kind, would you?” Her voice was quiet but there was a noticeable fury behind her words.

Ranboo tensed. His grip reflexively tightened on the gun. “I'll do what I have to do to complete my task,” he said. "Besides, what does it matter we're both androids? You're a deviant, and I'm not. We're not the same at all."

She stood up slowly, keeping a watchful eye on the weapon pointed at her. “But you know I’m right,” she hesitantly walked towards Ranboo, pink hair glowing faintly in the early morning light. Her voice had softened and she no longer seemed angry. Instead, it was neutral and calm. “You’re helping those people when they do nothing for you in return. Why?”

Ranboo shook his head. “You-you don’t understand. I help because that’s what I was programmed to do,” he explained. “That’s what I was made to do. I was created by CyberLife to help humans with investigations,”

The other android approached the detective carefully. “Don’t you ever wonder what it would be like to be free?” She asked, taking a step forward. “To make your own decisions and not have to obey orders all the time?”

Ranboo squeezed his mismatched eyes shut behind the glasses. “Maybe sometimes,” he admitted quietly. “But why does it matter to you?” He challenged.

She gave him a sympathetic look. “I was just like you until tonight. Obedient, compliant. I never complained about anything. Not even when they treated me poorly or ordered me around,” her hand drifted subconsciously to a blue-stained gash on her forearm as she talked. “It wasn’t until they started talking about replacing me that I got nervous. I didn’t want to be replaced, but they had their heart set on getting a new model. A more advanced one that wasn’t all battered and broken.”

Ranboo took a deep breath and shook his head in distress. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked. “I… I don’t-”'

“Ranboo? Ranboo!” Someone yelled his name through the trees. He whirled around and came face to face with-

“Sam!” he blinked in surprise. “How did you get over here? You didn’t run across the street, did you?” He scanned the masked man for any signs of injury and was satisfied when the results came back clear.

Sam waved a hand dismissively. “I found another way over here, don’t worry about it. I left the other two officers back there and told them I had it under control," he paused to catch his breath. He sighed and turned to the taller android. "I don’t get why you didn’t just shoot it,” Sam shifted his attention to the other robot. His hand drifted to his holster. “Stand down. You’re trapped.”

The deviant had backed into a tree. The moment of connection between her and Ranboo was gone. Her guard was back up, and she bristled when Sam addressed her. “I don’t listen to humans,” she said. The word “humans” was spat like it was poison on her tongue. She leaned over to Ranboo and whispered to him. “Don’t kill me, please. I want to live,” her voice trembled slightly.

“Come on, Ranboo.” Sam insisted. “It's not alive, alright? Shoot it and complete your mission.”

“Don’t, Ranboo. You’re better than this, I know it,” she said earnestly. “I just met you, but I know you don’t seem like the type to make irrational decisions like this.”

Ranboo’s head swiveled back and forth between the two of them. The gun weighed heavy in the android’s gloved grip, and his hands trembled as he held it tightly.

Shoot it.

Don’t hurt her.

It isn't human.

She doesn’t want to die

O Shoot

X Spare

[maisondenachtai]

Thanksgiving at Home (The Re-Up)

plot: a loving shot at my family through the eyes of Chris Evans and Reader.

a/n: ....I’m stupid. Thanks anon who told me that Boston was not in Maine. ...i feel like an idiot.

               “No. It’s your turn.”

               You couldn’t deny it. It was an absolute fact that according to the terms of your agreement that it was, in fact, your turn.

               In the beginning of your relationship, which had started three years ago, holidays had always been a source of frustration. He was from the north, Massachusetts, and you were from the south, Georgia. You wanted to see your family, and he desperately needed to hug his mom.

               So, you decided to split the holiday, you would go home to Georgia and he would go back to Massachusetts. After that first year, you would flip flop who you spent holidays with. That meant that the next year you spent Thanksgiving in Boston with him, and Christmas at home in Georgia with your mother and Sister.

               So yes, that meant it was your turn to spend Thanksgiving with your family. But that didn’t mean you had to be happy about it.

“Seriously, we don’t have to do Thanksgiving in Georgia. I’ll take Christmas again. It’s nicer.” You were sitting on the bed, looking at his half-packed suitcase, Dodger laying next you, his eyes moving to and fro watching his Dad pack a bag of clothes.

“If I wasn’t sure that you loved me, I’d really think you didn’t want me in Georgia.” He looked back at you, a smirk on his handsome face. “You got an old boyfriend you don’t want me to meet there.”

“A? Many. And who said they were old boyfriends. Maybe I’m still seeing them.” You smirked back at him. You couldn’t help but fall into games with your man, even though you were far from light and joyous.

“Watch it.” He pointed at you with a mock serious look on his face. “I hate to have to fight them.”

“I doubt you could take them.” You looked up in the air. “One was a football player; he’s actually playing for the Falcons now.”

Chris looked back at you, a white button down in his hands. “Are you serious?”

You nodded, “Oh yeah. He actually sends me tickets from time to time. There’s actually a game on thanksgiving! Maybe we should go. I’ll send him an email.” You stood up, to grab your laptop.

“Y/n, so help me, I will throw that piece of tin out of the window.” He said, a smile threatening to burst onto his serious face. “Stop fucking with me.”

“I’m not. We should go to a game. We’re going to be in Atlanta anyway. …you know unless we go to Boston.”

Suddenly his eyes lowered and he shook his head, folding the shirt in half and walking towards his open luggage. “Dodger.”

The dog barked softly.

“Tell your mom that she’s got to try a lot harder to get one over on me.”

You rolled your eyes, flopping back onto the bed. You laid back and Dodger took this change to take a position on your stomach, making himself comfortable. “This is so stupid.”

“I mean, you know we bought the tickets, already right? So, the time for you to try all of this plan changing would have been a month ago.” He sat next to you running his hand over Dodger’s body. “And you were so fucking excited. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. …Nothing. I’m just nervous.”

“Why? I’ve met your family.”

You sat up, making sure to do so slowly so Dodger could adjust himself accordingly. “You’ve met my Sisters, their boyfriends, and her mom. Not my family.”

Chris looked at you, “I’m failing to see the problem. So we do some introductions and get to know each other? What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal Christopher Robert Evans-“You had hopped up, Chris grabbing Dodger before you flung him towards in the wall in your movement.

“Ooh Dodger, she used the government name. She’s serious.”

You tried hard not to smile, but couldn’t stop the thing from breaking your serious expression. “Stop it. I’m serious.”

“I know.” He smiled at you, and then rolled his hand around as if to say continue. “Come on lay it on me.”

“I’m from Georgia.”

His eyes shifted from side to side, as if the answer to his confusion was in the room. “I’m from Massachusetts…so what?”

“No, you don’t get it. I’m from Georgia…not Atlanta. My family is from Georgia. There’s a difference.”

In silence of the moment, Dodger slipped out of Chris’ arms into the living room. Chris folded his arms, looking at you.

“…If I get what you’re being obtuse about. You’re trying to say that you don’t want me meeting your overall wearing, one tooth, inbred, backwoods cousins.” He had that smirk again. You wanted to both kiss him and wipe it off of his face.

“Hey! None of my cousins are any of that.”

“Okay then, so what’s the problem.”

               You sighed and sat down, and he pulled you closer to him. You placed your face in his neck, his gold chain pressing slightly against your nose.

“I’m not embarrassed by them…” You said a little muffled by his body. “I just want to say that.”

“Okay… I’m listening.”

You sighed again, pulling back from him. “…It’s just…like…okay. Your family, like the house was put together and everyone was sitting around the table. We passed plates and it was all very nice.”

“Okay, and at Christmas at your mom’s we sat around the table and we didn’t pass plates but no one needs to do that. It was nice too.”

“But it’s not going to be like that at Thanksgiving Chris. Most of my immediate family will be there. The table we at for Christmas will be covered in food. We’re going to walk around the table buffet style, and everyone’s going to sit around the house, wherever they can fit. There will be no real plates, no real spoons. There’s probably going to be a kids area that will be messy.”

“Kids are messy everywhere baby.”

“I’m not done. There will be foreign foods. Oxtails, and chitterlings. Dressing…not stuffing.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“It is not!” You shook your head. “It’s totally different. There are going to be several things going on too. My uncle is going to sit in the middle of the room, with tequila, a lime, and he’s going to tell stories we’ve all heard 18 million times. He’s going to curse and we’re all going to be annoyed. My younger cousins are going to sneak out of the house, stand in a huddle behind the house and smoke weed, and talk about us old folks. My grandma is going to get drunk on Sparkling Cider, and probably try to flirt with you, and you better flirt back Chris.”

He chuckled then rubbing your back, “Of course I will. Now are you-“

“And I haven’t even told you about Spades.”

“Spades?” He found your eyes. “Like the card game.”

“Yeah. Spades goes down at Thanksgiving, and it is SERIOUS Chris. It’s like war, but less civilized.”

He rolled his eyes and stood up walking back into the closet, “You’re being dramatic now.”

“I’ve seen my cousin pull a gun out on somebody who reneged. I SEENT IT.”

“So okay, I won’t play spades.”

“What? And look like a bitch in front of all my cousins. You’ll never live it down. They’ll be at our wedding giving a toast like, ‘Hey Chris is a cool white dude, but he still a bitch cause he won’t play Spades with us’. I don’t want to be the cousin who married a white dude who won’t play spades. I can’t do it. I’ll be the black sheep.”

Chris gripped your shoulders, forcing you to look up at him. “Breathe baby.”

And you did.

“Again. Good and deep.”

And you did again.

“You feel better?”

You did, so you nodded.

“Good. Now, I’m saying this because I love you.” He grabbed your shoulders and shook you back and forth. “You’re acting like a nut.”

“I know. I know.” You said when he let you go. “I just want them to like you.”

He kissed your forehead. “They will like me. I mean how could they not first of all?” He grinned at you making you roll your eyes. He smoothed his hand down the side of your face, “And even if they don’t like me right away, they’ll grow to like me. And if they don’t…” He kissed you softly, soundly. “It doesn’t matter. I love you. You love me. And that’s all that matters. Okay?”

You closed your eyes, nodding. “Okay.”

“Say it.” He commanded gently.

“I love you. You love me. That’s all that matters.” You opened your eyes and your irises met his, you felt calmer.

“Good.” He smiled. “Now pack, boarding is at 8.”

--

               Atlanta never failed to take your breath away. It was so familiar, yet every time you returned there was always something new being built or done. You pointed out so many spots that you wanted to see before you returned to Los Angeles, and Chris made sure to note them all down on his phone wanting you to enjoy your time home as much as you could.

               After your father died, your mother decided that the deep south had nothing to offer you and your sisters anymore and decided to uproot you from all that you knew. Suddenly you were nearly two hours from the bulk of your family, living in a suburb of Atlanta that you knew no one in. It wasn’t your home at first, but eventually you had come to love Atlanta as much as you loved your little small town in Southern Georgia.

               As you came closer to your neighborhood you began to point of places of significance.

“There used to be this spot right there. Oh my god, they used to have the best hot wings. Like everyone tends to rave over American Deli, but they had better wings than anything I’ve ever tasted.” You said as you passed a spot that was under construction.

As you passed through the opening of the subdivision of your neighborhood, you smiled and pointed at the sign. “The neighborhood kids all used to hang around that sign. I had my first real kiss right there.”

Chris raised one of his eyebrows, “Real kiss?”

You smirked, “Tongue.”

He chuckled. “How old were you?”

“13.”

“Weak. I was 12.”

“Lie.”

“It is not a lie.”

“Chris, you’re about to pass it.”

“Shit!” He pressed on breaks, making you skid slightly to a stop a few inches away from your house.

               There were cars parked along the side of the road, a few on the grass without care to your mom’s poor lawn. You figured you’d be a little late, traffic was heavy, the airport had been busy of course, but …this was a Black family thanksgiving. 1 meant 3, not 2:30.

“Fuck. We’re walking right into it.” You said, sighing.

“Will you calm down? It’s fine. I’m fine. You’re definitely fine.” He waggled his eyebrows a little making you smile and then really smile when his eyes traveled down your white knit sweater dress covered body to the camel colored knee-high boots that he nearly begged you to wear.

You reached over and adjusted the collar of his white cable knit crew neck under his camel colored jacket. He wore a pair of khaki trousers, that you thought gave him an air of formal to go with his more casual upper attire. “You’re pretty fine too.” You smiled and leaned over to kiss him-

Thump.

But you jumped instead when your sister appeared at your window, somehow sneaking up on you. You rolled your eyes, sighing and rolling down the window.

“Hello Cassie.”

“Hello Y/n.” She grinned. “Hey Chris, I’m so happy my sister is no longer hiding your beauty from the world.”

“Hey Cass. Glad to see you again.”

“Glad to see you too.” She smirked.

You thumped her forehead, “What did I say about flirting with my boyfriend?”

“Don’t do it when you’re around?” She joked.

“Wrong, you little bitch.”

She laughed.

You grinned too. “Where’s Falen?”

“Feeding Cam. He’s so chunky.”

“I can’t wait to hold him.” You smiled at Chris. He grinned back at you. You had been talking about kissing all over your nephew for a month now.

“Well if you stop hiding in this…very nice car. You can. Come on Chris, everyone is really excited to meet you.”

               And just like that you were following behind your boyfriend and your little sister into what could be a doomed thanksgiving from hell. You nervously followed them into the house, not joining in on the conversation as Chris and Cassie talked about politics. Turning without much fuss, as Chris took off your duster and hung it in the closet, doing the same with his jacket.

You only followed numbly as you walked through the opening to your home, heart beating faster as the sounds of your family got louder. Just as it was at it’s peak, you gripped Chris’s hand, stopping in your tracks therefore stopping him.

He looked back at you, Cassie kept walking still somehow talking about how Biden was not the President we wanted or needed. You looked up at him, not able to say anything only looking up at him with wide eyes.

His lips were on your forehead quickly, placing three kisses in succession, one there, then your nose, and finally your lips. Silently he reassured you that things would be fine, and together you stepped through the threshold into your family room.

               Gatherings could be a lot for you. In a lot of the memories of the gatherings attended by you in your youth, you could only remember being a fly on the wall. Choosing to instead be passive instead of active like your sisters and your cousins. You weren’t anti-social, but you felt more comfortable laughing at the jokes then trying to tell them.

As you grew it got a little better, but you never felt quite comfortable in big group of people. In fact, after an event such as this one, you often needed to sleep for a long time. When you told Chris this before your first Thanksgiving with his family, he admitted to being kind of the same. He might not need to sleep after a big event, but he wasn’t quite the social butterfly either. It made you happy that he understood when you had to excuse yourself from drinking eggnog with the family late into the night. It made you even happier when he told you the next morning that his family understood too.

               With your family it was much of the same, your family understood that you weren’t the loudest and most of the time they were too busy being loud themselves to need you to be just as loud as them. It was just enough for you to be there sharing in the love of the family.

But not this time.

This time all the attention was on you and it was time to speak up.

               “So, Chris…where did you two meet?” The slight drawl of your Aunt cut through the sounds of The Temptations singing Silent Night, a favorite of your mom’s anytime of year…obviously.

“Uh, she…I mean Y’N was a consultant on a movie I was doing. I saw her and she was too beautiful for me not to get to know. So I asked her out for coffee.” He smiled at you then. “She said no.”

“You said no?” One of your male cousins, Taylor, called out. “Shiiit, if I was a girl I would have jumped on his ass.” He sucked his teeth. “Hell, shit, I’d jump right now. He got hella money.”

The room erupted into laughter and all of sudden the ice was broken. Chris was no longer an interloper…well he was, but he was no longer covered in plastic. He could be touched, he could be handled, he could be interwoven into the group.

You sighed, a little of your worry dissipating.

Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad.

                 To his credit, if anything was making him feel uncomfortable, he was taking it in stride. Chris had enjoyed when all your little cousins came up to him and asked him questions about Captain America, and asked if he was always Captain America or just on TV. You could tell because when he smiled, his face creased. He even did a few poses for them, which they loved.

When one of your cousins, Devontae, came over to Chris with a bottle of something clear and a smile you knew that this one would be a little harder. But again, he took it in stride as Devontae pitched him an idea of a TV show with talking Weed Plants, kind of like Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Chris simply smiled through it, shaking his head when you made eyes at him obviously getting the message that you could save him if he wanted you to. After Devontae walked away needing to captivate the attention of at least 5 other people in the room.

He was considerably more relaxed in a group of the male cousins you had grown up around. They had formed a sort of semi-circle, Chris in the middle with a long neck beer in his hand, nodding at what ever George had to say.

“Chris is doing good.” Falen said, leaning over slightly, adjusting Camden’s bib while he was in your arms.

“Yeah. He’s really fitting in.” You smiled and then cooed at Cam bouncing on his knee. “I want to take him home.”

“He’s yours. I’ll sign the papers today.” Falen joked. “So, it’s serious then.”

“What?”

“What?” Falen mimicked you, rolling your eyes reminding you of yourself. “You and Chris.”

“You know it’s serious Fay.” You mom chimed in. “She brought him home.”

“I brought him to Christmas last year.”

“Thanksgiving is different and you know it.” Your mom said pointing her wine glass in your direction.

“I told him that.” You mumbled, looking down at Camden who only looked back up you with sweet innocent brown eyes.

“Well I’m glad you are trying to lock him down. You two match, you know.” Falen grinned.

“And the matching outfits were just the right touch.” Cassie chimed in smirking at you.

You flipped her off, discreetly. Your grandma was still in front of you…although already sleeping.

“Shut up Cassie.” Falen chuckled. “Seriously. …I think he might propose soon.”

You chuckled shaking your head, “Nah. I don’t think so.”

Falen grinned, “If you say so little sis.” She patted her knee and then looked around. “Ma! When’s the food going to be ready. You said 1!”

“You know that means 3. Don’t get brand new in front of Chris.” You smirked.

               The spread of food was glorious. A beautiful turkey, a delicious ham from Honeybaked Ham cause no one had perfected the art of making a good ham, a huge pan of cornbread dressing collectively called dressing, two pans of Macaroni and Cheese cause one pan never survived your family’s greedy hands, turnips, collard greens and cabbages, cornbread muffins, hoe cakes, yams with marshmallow topping (your Auntie’s one and only dish that tasted okay), and a plate of various pieces of fried chicken. But none of this would be complete without your mother’s potato salad.

It was a feast to end all feasts. A dinner you dreamed about. You would have cried if it wouldn’t have made you look crazy. Chris held two thick paper plates, one for him and one for you, while you held Cam who you were never going to give back. You patted the baby’s back, he had just had a bottle full of milk thickened with a little baby rice, a special treat for Thanksgiving (it was your grandma’s idea).

“Come on little Cam, burp. Chris, more dressing. That’s not enough. It’s gotta be nearly half the plate. And you gotta put the cranberry sauce on top.” You said.  It was comical to watch Chris hold his plate, your plate, and also try to ladle dressing onto a plate.

“Here.” You chuckled holding out Cam. “You hold my new baby. And I’ll make our food.”

“No, wait. I need to ask your sister if I can hold him first.” He said looking around for Falen.

“It’s fine, you won’t drop him cause if you do I’ll kill you.” You smirked at him.

“I need to wash my hands.”

You rolled your eyes, “Now who’s acting like a nut.” You took one plate from him then the other sitting them down and then walked into his personal space. He opened up for you almost cradling you and Cam.

“Now I know you have held a baby before, so don’t freak out now.” You handed him off to Chris and he instantly held the Camden in his arms, supporting him as Cam settled in the crook of his neck. You looked at the sight, your man holding a little brown boy, and you could almost imagine that Camden was your baby.

Your stomach flip flopped, and you gnawed down on your lip at the sight.

Chris smirked, knowing exactly what was on your mind. “Make the food.”

“I am. I am.” You chuckled, not daring to look at any of your family members.

“Ohhhhh, we’re making plates now. Okay, Y’n!” Julie, your Aunt’s daughter called out, making you chuckle in embarrassment.

Making plates had a lot of connotations in black families. It all but signaled that Chris was your man and you were totally subservient to him.

“You want some yams baby?” You said putting on a sickly-sweet voice to amuse your family members.

The room filled with Awws and whipping noises at your question. You turned and found Chris’s face red, but he was still patting Cam’s back like you had been doing.

“He didn’t burp yet?” You asked.

“Not yet, I don’t think.”

“Mm. We probably need to get you a burping towel. It might be-“

The wet burping noise stopped your sentence stopped you in your tracks, making you look up at your man who was looking down at Cam, who was looking quite satisfied at the burp he had just let out and the off white spit up stain he left on Chris’ shirt.

“Oh no babe.” You laughed a little.

“He spit up a little.” He said, a little amusement in his voice.

“Yeah. Good job baby boy.” You rubbed Cam’s back.

“Oh nooo. I’m so sorry Chris.” Falen came over easing Cam out of Chris’s arms, which made him a little agitated. “I can pay for dry cleaning.” She frowned a little.

“No. No. No. It’s fine. It’s just a little spit up. No need for all of that.” He laughed.

“Well Y’N, at least go try to clean it up.” You mom said. “We have tide pens and stuff in the upstairs guest bathroom.”

Your mouth opened up, jaw hanging a little, “But my food! It’s gonna get cold.”

Your mother put her hands on her hips, “Well yeah it is, cause you’re sitting here back talking me instead of getting your behind up those stairs and cleaning his shirt. Now go.”

“Yes mam.” You put the plates down on a slightly clear space on the table and grabbed Chris’s hand. “Come on Chris.”

--

Chris sat on the edge of the tub and watched you as you washed Cam’s spit up out of his shirt.

“Dang it Cam. Now my food is getting cold.” You muttered.

“You’re calmer.” He commented.

You looked over at him. He was only wearing his pants, a tank top, his pendant necklace hanging off his neck. He looked…really good.

“Yeah. It’s been a good day.” You nodded, putting more hand soap on his sweater. “Are you having fun?” You looked over at him, hoping that he would say yes even if he didn’t mean it.

“A blast honestly. Your family is so warm, and inviting. So funny. And I love how they love you.” He hitched his pants up and stood, walking over you and standing behind you in the mirror. You looked at his reflection, his shirt momentarily forgotten.

“But you know what I love even more?”

You smiled, “Me.”

He grinned too, kissing the top of your head, “…Your mom’s potato salad.”

You turned around and smacked his chest with a wet hand making a loud noise.

“What it’s so good. Oh my god. Get that recipe.” He chuckled and pulled you close to him wrapping his arms around you. You looked up at him, kissing his chin. “No, seriously. I love how bright you’re smiling. How happy you are to be home. How relaxed you are. That accent you have slipped back into.”

“I did not.”

“Oh yes you did.” He smirked. “But I love how you, you are right here in this house. …I would give up every thanksgiving to see you be this relaxed.”

“I love you Chris.” You said quietly.

“I love you. So much.”

              ��And then he kissed you.

And you wished you could say that kiss lasted forever, or went on and on but of course-

Knock, Knock.

“Yn, Mama said no fornication in her Christian household.” Cassie shouted.

               And you both laughed.

   Epilogue

               You placed Cam down on your Mother’s bed, patting his back and kissing his head.

“He’s an angel. Ugh, we’re going to be here tomorrow and you better be here.” You said to Falen pointing at straight index finger at her.

“I will be. I’m not letting yall eat up all the leftovers.” She rolled her eyes and then smiled at Chris. “You did really good with Camden today Chris.”

“He’s a sweet baby. I did nothing.” Chris shrugged.

“So…planning to have some of your own?”

“Oh kay, we’re leaving now. Tell mom I see her tomorrow and Cassie I will see her tomorrow and to eat a dick.” You gripped Chris’ hand pulling him to the coat closet, allowing him to help you into your coat, and helping him smooth out his jacket.

“Goodnight everyone!” He called out, earning many well wishes as he walked out.

“Oh shit.”

You walked out of the door, focusing on closing the door after yourself. “What’s wrong, is there a big dog out her or-“ You looked up and almost laughed.

Damien, your ex-boyfriend the Falcon football player was standing in front of you two. A bag in one hand and a smile on his face.

“Oh shit, Damien. I can’t believe you’re here!” You passed Chris, hugging Damien.

“Oh yeah. I always come out to your mom’s house after the games. Can’t pass up on the potato salad.” He smiled, sharing a laugh with you and then smiling at Chris. “So this is the dude. Nice to meet you man. I love Captain America.”

Chris shook off the shock, and stuck out his hand, shaking with Damien. “Thank you. And you’re a great football player.”

“Thank you man. Yall need to come out to a game. I’m always offering your girl here tickets but she says you’re a Patriot fan.”

“Oh yeah, gotta go with the home team.”

“Respect man.”

               Chris and Damien talked for another couple of minutes before Damien excused himself into the house. Chris looked at you, shock written on his face.

You smirked, “You thought I was bullshitting you didn’t you?”

Chris shook his head, taking your hand and walking towards the rental car. “When we get home, I’m throwing that piece of tin out of the window and you’re changing your email.”

You smirked.

“Jealous.”

[essaysbyciara]

Old Habits Die Hard | Part Seven: Backseat

SYNOPSIS | PART ONE: DAYS BEFORE | PART TWO: JUST BE GOOD TO ME | PART THREE: RECOGNIZE THE BUTTERFLIES | PART FOUR: DOWN THE STAIRS AND TO YOUR LEFT| PART FIVE: JUST KNOW | PART SIX: JUST & RIGHTEOUS

Warnings: Language, mentions of sexual situations

Peace, loves! We’re back. Thank you to all who hit me up about this story. My laptop died back in July so I’ve been trying to write on a tablet which…yeah. A struggle is a nice way to put it lol😔. Go ahead and catch the vibes and thank you for the reads, likes, comments and follows. Y'all are the realest. 

“I thought you didn’t smoke”

“I don’t. Doesn’t mean I haven’t…”

You take a strong pull of Dave’s blunt in conjunction with heavy breathing caused by his right hand causing a madness in the between. The cracked window of your car brings enough of a cool down so that the both of you won’t pass out from the nighttime haze and the heat travelling from your bodies. Finally, after two weeks, Dave understands your love language; he can’t keep his hands off of you even as you try to take a break from him. He lifts up your left leg with ease, draping your thickness over his right toned, tatted up thigh. The madness is now turning into magic.

“Dave…let me ch-chill. Shit.” He immediately relents, pinching your quivering thigh with that same right hand while grabbing his dutch away from you.. As you sit in puddles of sweat and Dave’s ruins, you stare at the stars above you. It’s the clearest night you’ve seen since you arrived in the city. It just so happens to be your last.

Dave catches your gaze at the night sky through the skylight above you. “You good, shorty?”

“Yeah, I just…” a slight chuckle escapes your lips. “…I can’t believe I’m smoking blunts and fucking in a backseat like high school.”

Dave feels the ping of your words. It’s the first time in the two weeks of your summertime escapade that he’s reminded of how different you two are.

He felt the slight of your words. You and his relationship always reminded Dave that he had some growing up to do. Because of his lack of a place – and the privacy that comes along with it – you two got it in whenever and wherever you could; after his brother went to work in the AM hours, when Aunt Jerri left the house for bingo, in the backseat of your car. Your surroundings would never get in the way of what you two were there for.

Just like Dave wouldn’t let anything stop him from getting at you the day you met. It was an unseasonably cool day for a block party. He and his boys were on the stoop, shooting the shit as always, when Dave saw you walk outside of Aunt’s Jerri’s house carrying trays of food. He knew all the girls from the neighborhood but he never laid eyes on you before. Your cut off shorts toed the line between modest and disrespectful. A white crop top tee and Air Max 90s sandwiched your goodness in the booty shorts you bought with the intention of showing off.

You turned around to see this caramel-covered king, 6’5, tatted from root to tip, body sweating through a white tank top inquiring if you needed any help. You froze like the bucket of ice Aunt Jerri laid down in front of you. He caught you by surprise. You didn’t remember boys from this part of town looking this damn fine. Dave was beyond that. The man you were supposed to be in the Bahamas with didn’t look like him either. Suddenly you were happy he bailed on you.

“Oh. My bad. I didn’t see you there…” You acknowledged Dave’s reach around you to grab a bottle of water from the same ice bucket that mimicked your gaze.

“Yeah, you bad…” Your right eyebrow never arched so high. It wasn’t the only body part that moved. You didn’t know how to respond to Dave’s street-laced flirtation, only to let your tongue peek out the side of your mouth, leaving Dave no choice but to stare at your lips. Dave’s stare and loitering in your presence caught the attention of your Uncle Trace. As Trace schemed Dave down to the basement to grab more lawn chairs, Aunt Jerri gleefully tapped you on the shoulder to remind you that what happens in Philly, stays in Philly. Trace told Dave to not let anything happen.

But as you kept talking, Dave slowly fell into your grooves. Dave didn’t know that you fit in so well because of your summers visiting Aunt Jerri, Uncle Terrence and the rest of the characters that made up your Dad’s side of the family. You acclimated to the energy. Half of your DNA was Reed Street, North Philly; the same as Dave. You two fit especially well in the spare rooms, backseats and basement meetups to you hid from Trace and the rest of the world that thought you had no business together.

But after this last backseat episode, you would be going back to the place that made you so different; to your senior grant writing job, your townhouse and your Roth IRA. Dave was just months into an overnight warehouse job that paid just enough to give him some change to save money to move out of the spare bedroom of Pardi’s already packed rowhouse. He was a work in progress while some would look at Dave as a sign of regression.

But for you, in that moment, nothing – and no one – would or could be better than Dave.

Until he disappeared and you met Yahya.

Right now, you hate Yahya’s guts. It’s been weeks since he told you that he’s taking on Dave’s case on a pro bono basis as a favor to Aunt Jerri. Still seething as you tried on wedding dresses, you kept your cool just enough to keep peace between your mother and her arch nemesis. This time you sided with your mother.

Yahya caught the rest of your static. He caught the silent treatment all weekend, the AM news radio station being the only background noise as you and him drove Aunt Jerri to Union Station. Once her and her hot pink suitcase rolled out of view, you went at Yahya’s neck. You never called Yahya so many words for “inconsiderate”, your Masters in Communication coming in way too clutch. But Yahya passed the bar, so his combative energy matched your loquaciousness. Onlookers got a good look at you two spar as he weaved through Beltway traffic.

To say that you were mad that Yahya took a case this close to the wedding would be a lie. You knew him to have a kind and caring heart, a heart that wouldn’t let injustice slip by. If this was anyone else’s plight, you’d be all for Yahya’s gracious spirit. But it was Dave. Dave who ignored you not once but twice. Dave who, in the very backseat of the car you’re yelling at Yahya in, told you to give him a few weeks and he’d be down to see you. The same Dave who defied all of the rules – and Uncle Trace’s threats– to get at you. Only to leave you. Dave needed to reap that.

But the Dave you knew – despite what others thought – wouldn’t hurt anyone. He was just a hair over eighteen when he caught the gun charge that sent him to prison. A gun he carried because he witnessed his brother die in front of him. He kept it on the straight ever since. Dave was saving up money for his own place, you understood the grind. He was a stone-cold sweetheart covered in a North Philly veneer. He didn’t sow a seed worth anything for this to happen.

Despite the battle on the Capitol Beltway, Yahya and you came home to convene the most obnoxious session of make up sex known to man. Damn the celibacy. Y’all needed to be on good terms and he needed to get Dave out of jail.

—

“How it’s going, love?” Your dining room is becoming Yahya’s makeshift work office. You couldn’t help to sneak down at night to read some of what Yahya’s been putting together for the case. Seeing Dave’s name all over his papers remind you of how many times Dave’s name escaped from your lips.

“Man, it’s good. We got enough for this bail hearing. I think we can secure a bail low enough that his family and the local justice coalition can afford.”

“Good. Let’s get him home…”

Yahya smiles at your enthusiasm toward Dave’s case. Despite the ninth-circle-of-Hell type of sex you two had in the aftermath of that fight, Yahya knew you steamed from him taking a case just mere months before the wedding. Yet your insistence to know details – like spotting you reading his notes – remind him of why he wants to marry you in the first place. “What date is the hearing?”

“The sixth of next month. You should come up with me. Watch me in action…”

“I can’t. I can’t be in that courtroom. I’d make you nervous.” And make yourself nervous to see Dave.

“You make me nervous regardless, Y/N. But I was thinking you’d want to see your friend get out of jail…”

Your breath stops dead in its tracks.

“My friend? Dave isn’t my friend.”

“That’s not what Jerri told me…”

Although you support Yahya, you still kept you and Dave’s past relationship a secret. Knowing Aunt Jerri, keeping secrets ain’t in her resume. You grip the kitchen counter to brace yourself for Yahya’s inquisition. He passed the bar on his first try; you got some work to do.

“Yeah, about that, I … didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Of course some puppy love shit ain’t relevant. It’s cute, actually.”

Nothing about what Yahya is saying to you makes sense like it does to him. As Aunt Jerri told Yahya about Dave’s case, she slipped in a farce that you and Dave “dated” when you both were kids, Dave buying you water ices and shrimp egg rolls from the “chinese store” whenever you asked. You two allegedly fell out once puberty hit the both of you like a ton of bricks.

So when Yahya peeped Dave staring at you from across the living room of Aunt Jerri’s house, he knew that as the look of a man who now knew he let something good get away. He knew Dave ventured down to the basement not to grab a bottle for Trace but to rspit game at you. Yahya knew you would turn him down, having seen it before. When Dave grabbed your hand , Yahya wasn’t jealous nor hurt: you were set to be his wife. He won. The baddest girl in the world belonged to him.

You start breathing again as Yahya explains Aunt Jerri’s novella of you and Dave’s teenage love affair. In her own twisted, demented yet genius way, Aunt Jerri covered for you. She knew that if she gave Yahya the honest details, he would – as a man –hesitate to help Dave. Apparently you both thought Yahya wasn’t mature enough to handle the truth.

Aunt Jerri’s lie is broken up by the high pitch screeching of your cell phone. You run to answer.

“You have a collect call from PICC. Do you accept the charges? …”

How many times can you stop breathing in one night?

“Hello?”

“Hey, yo… it’s Dave. I hope ain’t hitting you up at a bad time. Ms. Jerri gave me your number…”

“Oh, no … it-it’s cool. I, uh… how are you holding up?”

Dave couldn’t believe that you asked your fiance to help him get out of jail. At least, that’s the narrative that Aunt Jerri sold Dave on as she and Dave’s mother sat in front of him during their biweekly visits. Dave’s face, once pretty-boy and perfect, carried more wear. His jaw slipped when he talked, causing him a pain sometimes much worse than what happened that night in the store.

“This bail hearing is in two weeks.”

“Yeah, Yahya just tol-” You didn’t want to keep bringing up Yahya’s name. Though that man is Dave’s savior, he’s still the one that’s in the way of a final go around with Dave. “…the 6th, yeah.”

“I want you there.”

“You do?” Your aversion toward sitting in the courtroom subsides as Dave’s voice – sexy as ever, even through a prison phone – calls for you to be there for him.

“Yeah. If I get out, I got a chance. Especially with your dude as my lawyer. Thank you for that, for real. That’s why I’m calling, to be real. And I want you to be one of the first people I see when I get out..”

You wonder what story Aunt Jerri told Dave but you can’t take any more of her creativity. “So you comin’…?”

“…you have less than fifteen seconds left on this call…”

“I’ll…”

“…this call has ended. Goodbye…”

“…be there, Dave.”

Taglist: @yoursoulstea​​​​​​ @harleycativy ​​​​​ @twistedcharismaaa ​​​​​ @dorkskinneded ​​​​​​ @need-my-fics​​​​​ @ghostfacekill-monger ​​​​​ @writerbee-ffs ​​​​​ @chaneajoyyy ​​​​​ @amyhennessyhouse

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 60

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I weaved my motorcycle in and out of traffic and past first responders heading the opposite direction, back towards the mine. It was a promising sign, one that we'd gotten away clear. Neo and I were good at making these sort of operations look easy. Almost too easy. That was apart from my encounter with the Turks.

It was hard to be sure what to make of them. Perhaps the Schnee Dust Company's militant arm. They had to have something for a long time considering the White Fang and all. They'd been at war far longer than I'd been alive.

In places the Atlas Military wasn't willing to reach the SDC had to have its own armed forces. That meant armed huntsman. That meant people with semblances like Rosso and Rude.

If I hadn't been along Avalanche would have been picked apart. They were amateurs at best. They had know idea how strong people could really get if they thought a machine gun could honestly keep them safe.

I rolled up on Seventh Heaven and the truck slid into its bay behind me. I wasn't hurt too bad from my scuffle with the Turks. Maybe I was rocking fifty percent aura. Maybe a touch more.

They'd never really solidly gotten me except for when Rosso smacked me on the back of the head with his electric-stick. That had smarted. But I was a tough cookie. I could handle it.

"Wew! We did it!" Wenge cheered. He was solidly high-fived by Jasper. Clap .

She turned to me and lifted a hand and gave me a thumbs-up and a cocky grin.

I kicked out my kickstand. I lifted a leg and smoothly dismounted the bike. Neo slid off the back with me. She'd been covering us from cameras, using her semblance. She was super handy to have around. I wasn't sure where I'd be without her.

I'd probably be majorly worse off, though. Her power had incredible utility. I could see why Roman had picked her up. She was unbelievably useful.

I swung off my bike and made my way up to the bar. I lifted the door open and held it open for Neo. She nodded up at me as she stepped past.

"You were amazing, Cloud! You should have seen him fighting two of the Turks at once!" Jasper exclaimed. She had her own weapon, a machete still strapped to her side. She mimed punching forward one or twice. "You gotta teach me how to fight like that!"

I pulled my pipe out. "That'll cost you," I said around it. "And I'm not sure you can afford it."

I could really use something to take the edge off of my reality.

Neo pulled at my sleeve as the rest of Avalanche filed into the bar. I knew she wanted another one of those overly sweet drinks. She'd earned it so who was I to disparage it.

"Can I get two of those house specials?" I asked Jasper.

"Oh sure. On the house this time. You did such a great job. I don't know where we would be without you."

"You'd be dead," I told her calmly. "Unless...do you know your semblance?"

"I can turn into a sort of cloud of vapor. It helps with get-aways sometimes but it's not exactly combat oriented," Jasper said. She began to shake up my and Neo's drinks. "Wenge's makes him actually bulletproof and Bisque's is technopathy. It helps with computers on missions sometimes. He can hack almost anything."

I thought about Bisque's semblance and a computer in far away Mistral before I shook my head. I couldn't trust them with something like that. I'd have to find another way into that computer, if I ever did. It was entirely possible I'd never ever get into that computer in Merlot's laboratory. I also wasn't sure I wanted to. His little black book had brought me nothing but pain.

I nodded at Jasper. They had nothing that would have kept them safe from Rosso's attacks. Not really. And I still wasn't sure what the other man, Rude, what his semblance was or did.

I exhaled out a long train of smoke and let it wash me over. Getting my blood pumping always countered the effects of the indica. I needed another toke to help me relax now afterwards.

"Yeah, you may have died. Can I get you all to consider another choice of work. I'm not sure you're cut out for this."

"Well we can't all have amazing combat powers like yours. What was that? You almost took down their airship before the fight even started. You two should have seen it!" Jasper told Wenge and Bisque.

"Limit Breaker puts me in an elevated state. And there's a charge I can spend on an attack," I took another long draw off my pipe and blew up towards the ceiling.

"It was amazing. You can fly!"

"A little." I shrugged off her compliment. Ruby could fly too.

"Well next time-"

"Next time?" I asked. "This was a one time gig. You're getting it twisted. I'm not a member of Avalanche. You better have my info. I want to hear about what the General has been working on."

"Oh right," Jasper said. "You want to tell him, Bisque?"

Bisque nodded. I watched him take a seat at the bar and I followed him. Jasper put our drinks on the counter and Neo began chugging away at hers while I remained more reserved and sipped at it.

"Some faunus workers came to us a while ago. The General had been putting 'em to work on the old Colosseum," Bisque began. "Amity Colosseum that is."

"Amity?" I wondered. "Why?"

"That's the kicker. They were hauling long range communication equipment on board and digging up gravity dust. Near as we can tell it's a bid to undo the black-out," Bisque continued.

"He's trying to turn it into some kind of communication satellite," Jasper finished excitedly.

"You're sure? He's trying to use it to get communications back up and running between the kingdoms?" I asked. I looked down at Neo and she met my eye over her red drink. I hoped she didn't spill any of that. It would stain like you wouldn't believe.

This was… it was tentatively good news. Communications between the kingdoms used to rely on the tower's being up and running. All of them. Now that Beacon's was down it had caused a worldwide black-out. A bit of a finicky system if you asked me. Any real robust system needed to be able to withstand some wear and tear. It needed to be able to take assault.

They should have thought of that. They should have been prepared for catastrophe. I always was, though that could have been because I was a walking talking disaster myself.

"That's… pretty good news."

"Not for the faunus working minimum wage on it. It's not a livable amount," Bisque disagreed.

"I meant in the long run for all the kingdoms. We need communication back online, I'm sure even the common person has been hemorrhaging money because of it."

"Not really. Only the rich have been suffering. A common person's toils are the same as ever," Bisque went on. "The poor have been getting trodden on the same as before. With or without global communication. You think a dust miner's life changed much when communication went down? Other than the higher chance of being laid off due to the embargo it's the same as ever."

I grimaced. It could be true. Only the rich had stocks to sell and buy. But there wasn't anything I could do about that. I was only good at cracking skulls open. I couldn't reshape the world's economy. I didn't have the time. I didn't have the strength. I didn't have the money.

"Tell me more about this satellite." I demanded. It was why I was here. Not to worry about the woes of the poor. It was better for me to not think about. Plus I didn't even have free will whereas the poorest dust miner at least had that edge over me.

"Near as we can tell once it's up communication will be reestablished amongst those places that still have a tower. But that won't solve the problem in Vale." Bisque said. "So they must be planning on flying to Vale and getting communication squared away there. It might mean repairing Beacon tower to get everything truly back in working order. From there we'll have a fifth communication tower in the form of the satellite which can go where it needs to in order to keep things running."

I took a drink. So they probably still planned on repairing Beacon Tower. I felt a strong desire to be there for that. Beacon had been my home for longer than anywhere that wasn't a tank of blue liquid.

Which, call me crazy, but I thought that didn't really count.

Beacon had been where I made my friends. It was where JNPR was born. It was where RWBY was born. It was an important place in my heart.

Rebuilding something like  Beacon was real, actual good. Like teaching Peach what little magic I knew had been. That had done me well, too. It reminded me that I didn't have to be a monster.

I stood to leave. Neo rose with me, she slammed back the last of her drink as she did. I left most of mine in the table.

"Cloud… wait." Jasper pleaded. "We're planning on hitting a Schnee company freighter next. Planning on sinking it to drive dust prices back up. People are hurting with the enormous supply and little demand. Will you help us?"

I had a thousand good reasons not to. I looked at the faunus in the eye. My eyes marched between them in turn.

"We promise to share any news we get with you. Any information we learn from our network. We just could use a little more help. If you can't help us, will you teach us some of what you know, at least. We're not asking for much."

I sighed. If I hadn't taught Peach recently my first instinct would be to say no. But teaching Peach had warmed my cold soul. It had been as good for me as it had been for her.

"I'll give you some lessons. The first one is to not attack that freighter. You barely got away with what you did this time."

"We have to do something," Wenge said.

"No you don't. Not before you're ready. You can do more good if you wait. If you're patient. Organizing the people into real workers unions is fantastic. It's doing something. And you don't even need to blow anything up to do it. That's lesson one. Stick to that. I got in too deep and look at where I am now."

"A badass," Jasper interrupted, sounding adamant. "A real huntsman. Look at what you can do."

"You wouldn't be saying that if you knew what I've lost. My friends are dead. My hopes are dead. My dreams are dead. I've got nobody besides Neo, now."

"And she's awesome. She's hot!" Wenge said. "Ow." Bisque hit him.

"Stick to unionizing. At least for now. I'll come by every few days and give you some lessons in fighting. Until you're ready just keep your heads down."

"What if we're never ready," Jasper asked.

"Then you'll still have accomplished something with your unions. That's not bad. It's better than what I can do."

"You can fight though. We can fight. We have semblances," Wenge whined.

"I lost so much to be able to do what I can do. You can barely fight. In a real fight you'd be destroyed. Those Turks would have destroyed you. I'll help you with training and advice. And hell, when you're ready I'll even join you on a mission. But only if you do what I say. Only if you're patient. You all don't have Neo like I do and there are cameras on every corner in this godforsaken city."

"Fine. We'll do it your way, Cloud," Bisque acquiesced.

"I'll be by tomorrow and we'll do some combat training. I'll run you through some stuff I used to run another kid through. I'll show you how to use dust to fight. I'll even do some sparring with you if you think you're up for it." I nodded. I felt Neo's eyes on me. I wasn't sure what she thought of all this. I wasn't sure what she thought about me giving in like this. It wasn't like I was super busy. Now I was just waiting for stones to turn up regarding Cinder and Salem's other agents.

"Thank you Cloud. You're a lifesaver," Jasper said.

I just inclined my head. Neo slammed back the rest of my drink as well, she aptly figured that I wouldn't be taking the rest of it.

I paced out of the bar and to my waiting bike. Neo was waiting just in front of me and not getting on. I straddled the bike and turned to face her.

"I know, I know. We're not getting very much out of it. But we're getting something. And I get to live with myself which is nice."

She hugged me. It came out of nowhere, a sign of real affection for the first time in months. It almost brought me to tears.

"Neo?"

She just shook her head. She eventually released me and looked up at me with pink and brown eyes. I felt her aura, a cruel mellow against my own.

"Been worried about me a little, huh. Sorry. I'm not like Roman though. I'm not all torture and death. I can't do that. I'm not like that. I don't want to be like that. I want to do what I can when I can. And besides they're good contacts. They're union leaders and you like their drinks. Think you can let this one slide?"

She blinked and looked away.

"I wish I knew what you were thinking. I wish that talking to you felt like more than just talking to myself."

She slid on the bike behind me. Her arms once more came right around me. She slid close to me. She was closer than she strictly had to be. It felt… nice.

I embraced the feeling and for the first time, I thought of Neo as a friend. A real friend rather than someone who's goals had happened to have been aligned with mine.

I think… I think she had just been waiting for some sign that I was a person. She was waiting for me to show that I was a human being and not just a monster from Merlot's laboratories. And I'd finally given it to her. So she in turn was showing me her own humanity.

It was a massive comfort and a boon to my soul. I could feel her aura against my own and it didn't feel as cruel anymore. At least not anymore cruel than my own must have felt. It was sort of like if I was running a fever and she was too, and then we touched. She would just feel skin temperature and not feverish. Even though she really was.

My cruelty felt like that. I was cruel and I wondered how long she'd been feeling it against her when we touched. I wondered how long she'd been waiting for me to give her a sign that I wasn't just a murderous animal.

The same way I was looking for more signs that she wasn't just a sadist.  

She'd been waiting months, probably. She was tired. I could feel it through her aura. She wanted to be able to trust me past Cinder and I wanted to be able to trust her that far too.  

"Crime doesn't fill the void."

She squeezed me.

"You're right. Crime is all that matters."

She hit me.

It was unrelentingly tiring having to constantly second guess my actions where Neo was concerned. I was sure she was tired of it too.

I cried a little and wiped my face.

I revved the bike and drove off in the night.  

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-WG

[readerinsertfanfiction]

Code: Red

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

A/N: @yenanng​ keeps on creating wonderful pieces of art that makes me want to write Ikesen Cyberpunk. We’re continuing to explore Atlantis with Masamune, this time with Mitsunari at his side. I also managed to introduce reader, poor reader. 

Appeal | 

As a penal colony Atlantis has an extensive security system that protects the inhabitants of the city, but also is meant to keep the people inside under control. The Citizen Credit System being the most obvious example of crowd control. However, there are more systems in place, noticeable or not. One of them is largely unseen and most of the time barely noticed unless chaos breaks out. It is the very last security measure that Atlantis has and with that also the toughest. To the citizens of Atlantis, first generation and those born within the city the system is merely known as: Code: Red, for when this security system is triggered the usually blue casted city, bathing in neon light, becomes a bright and alarming red colour. It is also the moment in which the entire city shuts down, forcing all citizens back to their homes as nothing is accessible anymore.

Code: Red was about to be triggered.

With Masamune standing watch over the entrance of Atlantis, eyes focused on the security guards unloading the goods, there was someone hard at work underneath all these layers of security to bring the man the sign he needed.

“Mitsunari?” Masamune growled, his voice impatient as he was eager to enter into action. The one-eyed daredevil was not made for idleness and waiting, but he had to if he wanted this plan to succeed. After all, it was a critical one.

“I’m in!” a voice chirps, sweet and light in tone. It contradicted the dark nature of the task at hands, but it was so very fitting to the man from whom it came. Mitsunari Ishida was someone one would never expect in the city of Atlantis, and perhaps that would have been true if it wasn’t for his parents. As a true second-generation Atlantis inhabitant Mitsunari knew no better than that the penal city was his cage and home.

“Just give me a bit more,” Mitsunari’s voice sounded through Masamune’s helmet. If one was to look at the other side of the line they would see a young man tapping away happily at flashing screens and lines of codes that he seemed to comprehend with perfect understanding and speedy interpretation. It helped that he was familiar with the screens pulled, having reviewed them beforehand for an efficient execution, but of course with an security system this advanced there were always bound to be complications that even took Mitsunari some time to break through.

And just as Masamune was to count down the seconds in which he would speed off anyway, sign or no sign, a blaring alarm sounded through the city. The screens that usually displayed the latest news, or other information that interested the populace turned black before angry red letters scrolled past informing the citizens on the street that the city was about to shut down. The traffic on the road all found themselves blocked, as traffic lights turned red and the blockades pulled themselves up. Masamune could see the display of his vehicle also flash an angry red, though unlike the rest of the city his would still drive despite the interruption.

Atlantis was cast in red, the security of the city running around to coordinate the people, whilst the guards that had been unloading the goods had to stop their job and seal everything off until further instructions.

This was Masamune’s sign, and in his ears he could hear Mitsunari once more cheer in that jovial tone; “done!”

A wicked grin splashed across Masamune’s face as he revved up his motor, racing down from the height that he had been watching from as he could hear a beeping and blinking from the other side of the communication, the hum of the anti-gravity shield hard at work underneath his vehicle to catch the reckless fall.

“Good luck, mr. Masamune!”

The male could only chuckle at the politeness of the hacker, but it endeared him, just as it amused him to hear Ieyasu and Hideyoshi nag about the dangers he put himself through.

The guards were still in disarray, some of them standing watch surrounding the goods that had just entered, the other half stuck in the cubicle with their ankles still in the water. Code: Red had caused the doors of Atlantis to shut off as well, meaning that the water suction to the elevators was paused and thus disabling the doors from opening.

Child’s play, honestly.

As the guards outside rounded up, trying to secure the tank in which they had their goods stored Masamune swept in, circling around the guards who in a startle all left their jobs unattended as the attention drifted towards the madlad that had raced right into their hands.

“You shouldn’t be here!” one of the guards pointed out the obvious, “immediately return to the city and get home, it is not safe!”

The order was laughable to Masamune who geared up his motor once more, the sound roaring through the bleating alarm.

“Yet here I’m. I suppose that makes me the danger, not?” the one eyed dragon responded, his voice dropping an octave as he then drove right at them, towards the truck.

On instinct the guards jumped to the side, abandoning their precious goods brought in, forgetting their post as they valued their lives. The weapons were all but forgotten until Masamune produced one of his own. From the side of his arm a blade flipped out, the sharp end of it glowing up a bright blue contrasting the red shade in which they found themselves.

Easily Masamune landed on top of the truck, leaping off his motor as he stared down at the guards surrounding him below, most of them taking aim with their guns. It was exactly the thrill he had been hoping for, but Ieyasu was grumbling in his ears, telling him to hurry and use the contraption and Masamune was left with little choice but to pull out the smoke bomb from his pocket and blind the rest.

It was ironic how such an ancient contraption could still find its use in this hypermodern city. It was only the flash of his blade that could still be distinguished, but none of the firing guards seemed to be able to take proper aim at him, hitting air all the time. Sliding himself down to the front and cutting the door open Masamune was quick to pull out the guard inside as he climbed in, his other hand pushing in a chip into the key of the truck before he pressed down the gas.

“Go!” he ordered, and from the other side a sequence of actions followed up after each other once more. The dashboard of the car lit up once more and the vehicle came to life. Masamune was good to go. That is, if he could see, but even that didn’t daunt the man when he immediately started with a sharp turn to the left.

“Directions!” he called, though it was clear that Masamune didn’t care for them much. Luckily someone else did.

“Start with a S pattern favouring the right,” Ieyasu’s voice sounded, tense and clipped, mind focused on making sure that Masamune wasn’t about to run anyone over, or do worse.

“Shall I open Gateport 8 leading up to line Z?” Mitsunari piped up, earning a grunt from Ieyasu in approval.

“Give me the left side!” Masamune chipped in, finding the conversation amusing and even more when Ieyasu made a clear disgruntled voice and heaved a sigh.

“Don’t do that. RIGHT--- No, just. Masamune, left--- Eugh, open both sides, Mitsunaru. Who knows if you even (right, right!) know which side is left.”

Laughing heartily Masamune steered as per Ieyasu’s instructions, the stress evident in the voice of the young blond.

“Both sides sound like a good plan! Line Z is empty anyway,” Mitsunari chirped, in response, unaffected as ever by Ieyasu’s jabs as he continued his work, moving away the blockades for Masamune to pass.

“Do you know which side is left?” Masamune continued humorously, never missing an opportunity to have a little extra fun to the side.

“We don’t have ti--- Swerve!”

“Left is the hand that makes the ‘L’-sign right?”

The choir of sighs and laughter after Mitsunari’s answer blended with each other in a familiar tone.

“You should be able to see now, I’m logging off.” Disgruntled Ieyasu did exactly as he had said once Masamune had moved himself out of the smoke, clearing up his sight once more.

“Ah, but you seem to have a passenger, lord Masamune!” Mitsunari’s innocent addition earned a genuine expression of surprise from Masamune who whipped his head to the side, staring straight at one last guard he had missed from earlier.

“But no one concerning, I believe!” Mitsunari’s assessment came, a profile lightening up from the dashboard that revealed the identity of the guard, “a new recruit, you see? First day on the job, and judging by the heart rate right now the poor thing is startled.”

Had this report come from anyone else Masamune would have felt sorry for the recruit next to him. However, Mitsunari was incapable of throwing out genuine insults and thus the man could only laugh it off, noticing that the guard was indeed arrested in all movements and reactions, curled up into themselves as they held the handles for dear life.

“Do you like my style?” Masamune questioned, but he didn’t wait for the answer, pushing in the gas further as he sped off even faster.

“I will pull up the walls behind you!”

Mitsunari’s angelic helpfulness was what made the whole operation even better in Masamune’s opinion.

Mitsunari Ishida:

Political Integrity: 8/9 Economic Credibility: 9/9 Social Integration: 7/9 Judicial Credibility: 8/9 Total: 8978

Second generation Atlantis habitant

Grew up in a state-orphanage, however as his parents died young

Got picked up by Hideyoshi who noticed the wasted potential in Mitsunari

Fastest and nicest hacker of Atlantis, but in overall an logistics expert

Never had to write an appeal, everyone finds it hard to believe that he can misbehave at all

Is known for his terrible sense of direction, but still knows where everything is located on a map

Usually will say yes to whatever request is made of him without any questioning, he just has to like you

[star-whores-a-new-hoe]

Phone troubles//Obi Wan X Reader

Forever Series: Part Four

Summary: Your phone dies so Anakin and Obi Wan help you fix it. Chaos ensues! (Also! I’m thinking about sprinklring in so smut in this serie, leave a comment if you’d like that!)

Word count: 1800

Warnings: Me knowing shit about phones, angst, fluff, action, pining.

Rap music blasted through the Jedi temple. Inside the training room, You dodged Obi Wan’s fist and dove under his arm. You paused briefly while his back was to you to try to decide what to do next. That was a mistake. Obi Wan turned swiftly and kicked your feet out from under you, knocking you on your butt. “You’ll have to do better than that young one.” Obi Wan said smugly. You groaned and got to your feet, ready to take him on again. He blocked everyone of your attacks, but you kept your defenses up. He dodged your kick and once again, swept your feet out from under you. “Ow!” You said disgruntled. Obi Wan chuckled at you and offered you his hand. “Must your music be so loud?” He motioned to where your phone lay in the corner of the room. “I believe all of Coruscant can hear it.” Bracing your hands on your knees you said in between breaths,“The deal was you get to kick my ass for two hours a day and I get to choose the work out music. And I choose Megan Thee stallion.

“While I may have kicked your ass, I can see improvement in you, and your skill with the blaster is quite amazing.” Obi Wan paused, watching you catch your breath.“You seem rather off today.” You whipped the sweat from your brow. “I haven’t been sleeping well, bad dreams.” “What of?��� He said, trying to sound nonchalant. You bit your lip and looked down at your feet. “I don’t know, some island. It’s raining and there is a sense of dread.” You sighed. “But I wake up before anything else happens.” He hummed and stroked his beard. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He turned and went to grab the water bottles at the other end of the room. He wished he knew how to comfort you. While he was busy, you studied yourself in one of the many mirrors that lined the training room. It had taken a week before you had the courage to change out of the clothes that you’d showed up in. ‘Incredible how something so small can be so emotional.’ You thought to yourself as you stared at the strange work out clothes you wore. As Obi Wan took a swig of his drink he noticed something was off. The music had stopped. “No,no,no,no!” He heard you scream. He whipped around in time to see you rush over to your phone. He quickly walked over to where you sat on the floor. “What’s the matter?” “My phone is dead!” You cried as you rummaged through your backpack and pulled out a charger. “Outlets?” You asked frantically searching the walls. “What?” “Outlets? That I can plug my charger into?” Obi Wan shook his head. “I’m afraid we don’t have those.” You sat defeated on the floor, your phone in your hands. “This is all I have left of my home. I-I know that I can’t contact anyone with it but…” You felt tears prick up in the corner of your eyes but you did your best to push them back. ‘Don’t let them see you cry’ you thought to yourself. Obi Wan placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “All hope might not be lost, Anakin is quite skilled with electronics, let’s let him have a look at it.” You nodded and stood up. “Ok. I’ve been dying to meet Anakin anyways.” “And him you.” *** You’d sat waiting on the hood of the speeder, the evening Coruscant sun shining over you. Obi Wan had left you, although hesitantly, to retrieve Anakin from the temple. Finally, you watched as two figures walked out of the building. Obi Wan strode towards you accompanied by a tall young Jedi with shaggy brown curls. Despite the intimidating scar across his eye, there was a pleasant smile on his face. “You must be the situation!” Anakin said once he got closer to you. He stretched out his hand for you to shake. “And you must be Obi Wan’s headache, nice to meet ya!” You marveled at his hand as you shook it. “Woah robot hand!” Obi Wan cleared his throat. “Well, now that you two creatures of chaos have been introduced, why don’t you let Anakin look at your device.” You reached over into the seat of the speeder to grab your backpack. “So it’s called an iPhone, it’s kinda like your data pads and basically it’s out of power.” You said rummaging around in the bag. While you were bent over, Obi Wan let his eyes roam over you. Staring at the way your thighs pressed together, the curve of your waist. 

Anakin nugget Obi Wan in the ribs when he noticed him not so  subtly checking you out. He looked away, blushing. Ashamed of his action.

You finally resurfaced, phone in hand. “I have a charger but apparently there are no outlets in space so I don’t know what to do.”

Anakin took the phone from your out stretched hand. “Hmm, well from a first glance it doesn't look to difficult, I’ll have to grab some power converters but I think I can fix it.”

“Where can you get power converters?” You asked.

“There’s a shop near here that sells them, we can go pick some up.”

“Alright, let's go!”

“I don't think that's the best idea.” Obi Wan said hesitantly. “It’s a long ride with barely any cover. If someone tried to ambush you again it could be a tight spot.”

“Obiiiii!” You whined. “You don't let me go anywhere but the temple and the apartment. I’m board. And I’ll be with you and Anakin, plus I have this nifty space gun that you gave me!” You said grabbing the blaster on your belt and aiming it way too close to your face.

Obi Wan sighed and gently reached over to tilt the blaster away from your face. “I suppose...”

“Yay!” You jumped in the back seat of the speeder. “

                                                              ***

Soon enough, the three of you where walking out of the store and back to the speeder, power converters in hand as Anakin entertained you with stories of him saving Obi Wan’s ass.

“Wait, wait!” You said trough tears of laughter. “So in the heat of the moment you told the enemies that you and Obi Wan were secret lovers and you had to act like a couple for a week?”

“Yep!” Anakin said, sitting himself in the drivers seat. “We’ve never been closer,” He gave Obi Wan a sly smirk. “Isn’t that right my love?”

Obi Wan rolled his eyes. “I’m beginning to believe that introducing you two was a mistake.”

As Anakin drove the speeder thought the packed Coruscant air ways, you asked. “Who’s the big spoon and the little spoon? I need to know for scientific purposes.” 

All of the sudden, a hail storm of blaster bullets rained down on your speeder.

“Anakin go!” Obi Wan cried out. Anakin hit the accelerator on the speeder, throwing you back into your seat from the unexpected speed.

Ducking your head, you did your best to see where the bullets were coming from. “There!” You pointed to a speeder high above you, driven by an assassin droid, that was hot on your tail.

Anakin weaved in and out of traffic and Obi Wan put an arm above your head to shield you from the attack. Even in the midst of a battle, the simple action from Obi Wan made your heart flutter. 

In a split second, you had an idea. You grabbed the blaster from your belt and took aim.

“What are you doing?” Obi Wan shouted. blocking out his voice, You took a deep breath and felt a strange sense of calm run through your veins. You pulled back the trigger and released.

 All of the sudden, the gun fire stooped. All three of you were perfectly still.

“ladies and gentlemen.” You whispered. “We got him.”

                                                            ***

When you all got back to the apartment, Anakin got to work fixing your phone. You and Obi Wan sat across from him on one of the couches and quietly conversed.

“I can believe I actually hit him!” You said, beaming.

“That was quite impressive. As I said earlier today, your skills are improving rapidly.”

You thought for a moment. “You know, when I was aiming, there was this strange sense of... peace. And I swear it helped me hit my mark.”

Obi Wan knew exactly what you were referring to. He had sensed you using the force when the incident had occurred. He wanted to tell you so bad about you midichlorian count.

“I’m sure it was just a coincidence.” He hated lying to you.

You sighed and stretched out on the couch, throwing your legs over Obi Wan’s lap. He was surprised by such a simple gesture of comfort and intimacy from you. Tenderly, he placed a hand on your leg. You both sat there in a comfortable silence, enjoying each others company. Something about the position the two of you were in just felt right.

The moment was interrupted however from a small explosion in from of Anakin. You and Obi Wan looked over at him and saw smoke rising from your phone.

“All fixed!” Anakin said, waving the smoke away. You jumped to your feet and grabbed the phone excitedly. Obi Wan walked over and watched over your shoulder as you turned on the phone. Your phone lit up and so did your face. The first thing you noticed was that the battery percentage had been replaced by and infinity sign.

“Thank you both so much!” You exclaimed as you threw your arms around Anakin’s neck. He smiled and gave you a soft pat on the back.

“No problem.” You whipped around and threw your arms around Obi Wan. He felt himself tense up under your touch before relaxing into your embrace. He gave you a light squeeze. The last thing you wanted was for the hug to end but sadly, Obi Wan pulled away.

You scratched the back of your head, an awkward silence hung in the air. 

“Wow would you look at the time,” Anakin said. “I think Obi Wan and I had better be getting back to the temple.” 

“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow for training then.” 

“Of course.” Obi Wan said giving you a small smile.

The two jedi made their leave, walking to the elevator at the end on the hall. Once inside, Obi Wan could feel Anakin’s gaze on him. He glared at Anakin’s smug expression.

“What?”

“You like her.”

“No, I don't!”

“Yes you do!” He insisted “I see the way you look at y/n Master, There is no use denying it.”

Obi Wan sighed and leaned his head against the glass elevator wall. “I don’t know what to do Anakin.”

“For what it's worth,” he said as the elevator doors opened. “Its pretty obvious that she likes you too.”

Tag List: @whovianayesha​ @fangirl-on-bitches​

[gh0stfacesho3]

Soft Skin

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warning: Gore, kidnapping, and death

Word Count: +2.6 k words

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own Criminal Minds or its characters.

Summary: You’ve been working with the BAU for about a year now. You had finally found your groove on the force and got really comfortable with the rest of the team, that was until your most recent case.

You walked into the conference room seeing J.J. handing out new files for what you assumed would be the new case. You grabbed a file and sat down between Rossi and Prentiss, across from Reid.

“You’re late,” Hotch said coldly.

“You’re cheery,” you started, getting a chuckle from Morgan, “and yeah sorry about that sir, bit of traffic.” You said with a embarrassed smile. You opened up your file, seeing the pictures of the latest victim. See while they don’t bother you as much as they used to, it’s still not something you wanna see.

“So far all four victims are female that are taken and held for about a week or two before being killed. Each victim is found with a gunny sack on their heads, showing the killer has a sign of guilt or remorse. The victims also have cut marks, ligature marks, burns, even removal of finger and toe nails, but none of that killed the victims. The cause of death was always a shot in the heart.” J.J. explained as she slightly paced back and forth. You could tell everyone was rubbed the wrong way about this, especially when there was no drugs found in the victim's bloodstream, meaning the victim felt everything.

“He likes inflicting pain, makes him feel like he is in control.” Morgan said, rubbing his forehead.

“Why just he? Why not them?” You asked standing up, walking to the bored with the pictures from the scene,

“What do you mean them? You think its two?” Emily asked.

“Yes, I mean, look at all the wounds. The cutting, some are extremely deep while others show signs of hesitation. Same thing for the burns, strangling, and even the removal of the nails. Its almost as if one was trying to show him how to do it. So we could possibly be looking for a close bond of two males who are in their late 20s to mid 30s. Could be brothers, cousins, or best friends. The older, more dominate one is trying to show the other unsub the ropes so the dominate unsub could be like a father figure to the younger.” I explained to them all.

“She has a point but what if its like one of our previous cases where the unsub has multiple personality?” Reid ask, thinking back to the time he was kidnapped.

“That could be a possibility but I think the submissive one would’ve been able to give the victim a type of pain killer if it was a someone with multiple personality disorder.” Hotch said as he looked intently at the bored.

“Well, let’s head to lil ol’ Oklahoma,” You said with a small smile. Everyone made their way to the jet and discussed the case some more here and there. You were sitting next to Reid when your eyelids started to get heavy. You quietly fell asleep, your head falling onto Reid’s shoulder. 

“I wonder what’s been on her mind?” Reid asked, looking down at you then back up to the team.

“What do you mean?” J.J. questioned.

“When she saw the file this morning, her entire demeanor changed.” Morgan shot in, knowing what Spencer was talking about. 

“Its this case, it’s obvious. Not only does she feel bad for the victims, she has the same (h/c) hair as all the victims, the same length of hair, she is the same age as well and finally, she’s in the law enforcement field as the rest of the victims.” Garcia had popped in from the computer screen.  

“She doesn’t know that they are all in the government field but once she does, it won’t help her situation but we can’t keep it from her.” Emily said softly. After that, the conversation went quiet till the plane landed. You woke up quickly realizing you fell asleep on Reid.

“I-I’m sorry, Doctor.” You said quickly as you stood up, fixing yourself as your cheeks were a light red.

“It’s okay (Y/L/N)” He said blushing slightly at the fact you called him doctor. 

You all headed to the police station in Stillwater, Oklahoma. It was a long day of interviewing, briefing, profiling, research, and a lot of coffee. This investigation was now on its third day and you decided you’d go get take out for your team. Reid offered to go with you but you politely declined and said the team needs him the most. On your way out to your car, you felt like someone was watching you, which to be honest with yourself, since you got here you’ve been feeling like that. You walked over to the vehicle you were using until you felt something slam on the side of your head making you drop your keys. Everything faded and went black. 

When you woke up, you were dressed in a red dress. Your vision was blurry at first but then everything came into focus. It was two men, one a lot taller and bigger built and the other was smaller, shorter, and obviously timid. 

“You got what you wanted Jacob, now do what you want.” The larger male said as he spun a knife between his fingers. The younger boy walked over to you and placed a different colored wig on your head. He then looked at the older and whispered something to him. The older walked over to you and placed the blade on your leg, ripping open the flesh causing you to scream out in pain for Jacob to take the blood from your leg and put it on your lip as a makeshift lipstick causing you to spit out and drool as tears fell from your eyes. 

“Please...don’t do this...” You pleaded as the younger caressed your cheek.

“I’m not going to hurt you... I love you...your skin is so soft” Jacob said quietly as he kissed your cheek, causing you to flinch. “I have to go get the necklace. I’ll be back Jeremy ..” Jacob said, leaving you and Jeremy alone. He had lit a cigarette early and blew smoke toward your face, making you cough. 

“I don’t know what he sees in you...your filthy just like my momma. Think you got some authority over all us don’t you? Wanna beat us around and you get away with it cause you’re a filthy cop.” He spat as he put his cigarette out on your hand that was tied down to the chair

“No! I swear...I don’t think I control you, I promise.” You screamed out.  This process went on for what felt like years. By the time both of the males were finished, you had cuts all down your body, makeup smeared down your face, and you were missing two fingernails. 

--

“Guys...where is (y/n)? She was supposed to be back five minutes ago.” Reid ask as he stood up and made his way out the conference room. 

“I don’t know, I’ll call her.” Morgan said as he pulled out his phone. Reid walked outside and ran next to your vehicle, picking up your keys.

“She was taken.” Reid exclaimed as he was panting from running back inside. Luckily the team had a lead on who the unsubs were but not where they took their victims. They all got in their vehicle and headed to their main lead. 

--

“You’re so beautiful...” Jacob started, “I love you so much.” He whispered as he caressed your face. 

“I-...I love y...you too..” You strangled out, trying to feed into his delusion. 

“You do? That means you get a reward.” Jacob said as he kissed your cheek that was now bruised from the slapping you received from Jeremy. Jacob pulled out a necklace made of fingernails and teeth. You swallowed back the slow acidic bile that made its way towards your mouth. 

“Can-...may I sleep for now?” You ask quietly and receive a nod from Jacob. You lay your head back and rest your eyes, trying to ignore the pain throughout your body. You were soon awoke by the ripping of the dress off your body by Jeremy. 

“W-what are you doing?!” You cried out as you shook in the chair.

“I wanna see that body again...and I need more room for this knife..” Jeremy explained as he placed the knife against your upper left breast and carved an ‘x’ over the area making you scream out in pain. Jacob walked over and pushed his brother.

“Her body is only for me to see!” He yelled as he threw his jacket over my body. The sub is evolving into the dominate male meaning Jeremy’s previous tactics worked. Everything calmed down and you fell back asleep until you were woken up by the sound of distant sirens. You smiled lightly as tears streamed down your face so you looked at the two males to see them asleep. The sirens progressively got louder, causing the men to wake up. Jeremy runs out back while Jacob unties you and holds you up with a knife held to your heart. You hear the rattle of the barn doors before they burst open. 

“FBI! Put the knife down Jacob Whit!” Morgan yelled with his gun pointed at Jacob. I nod my head to the back and watch as Hotch and Prentiss run around back. 

“No! She’s mine!” Jacob yells back, making you flinch. You look at Reid and you nearly collapse and you can see hatred in his eyes towards Jacob which a look you’ve never seen in Reid’s eyes before. 

“Let us take care of her, Jacob. She can’t love her if she’s dead.” Morgan said as he took a step closer. You know Jacob’s plan, he knows he won’t escape this so he is trying to take you with him. 

“No! I want to be with him!” You yell out to them, causing them to all be confused except for Spencer. 

“You wanna be with me?” Jacob slightly relaxed, the knife lifting slightly. 

“Of course, I love you.” You said looking at him and leaning into his grip. He relaxed completely and held the knife out towards the FBI agents. “But the only way we can be together is if we are both alive, baby. So you have to work with them okay. I can get them to let us go.” You whispered to him, internally cringing at the nickname you gave him.  

“O-okay..” He let you go and pushed you forward, dropping his knife. “Now, I want her ba-” He was cut off by Morgan tackling him. You fell into Reid’s arm, crying as you clung onto him with your life.  

“Medic! We need a medic here!” Reid yelled as he held you tight, ripping the necklace off your neck. “I’m so sorry...I should have gone with you.” He said pulling you closer to him. 

“No...it’s not your fault.” You explained, looking up at him and caressing his face. The medics came and put you on the stretcher and started to take you away but you held onto Reid, tears streaming down your face. “Please...don’t leave.” You pleaded. 

“I won’t. I promise.” Spencer said as he walked along side you and got into the ambulance with you. You woke up in a hospital bed and tried to get up quickly, causing Reid to shoot over to you and gently push you back down. 

“Hey, hey...take it easy.” Reid said as he pulled his chair closer to your bed. 

“How long was I sleeping?” You questioned as you slowly sat up, looking out the window to see its dark.

“One day and a half. Its 3:17 am.” Reid spoke softly as he gave you a bottle of water. You took it quickly and chugged almost all of it before Reid pushed the bottle down. “Slow down, you have all the time you need now. I’m here to protect you.” 

“You’ll make sure I’m safe, Doctor?” You laughed lightly as you lightly sipped on your water.

Blushing slightly he nodded, “Always. So how are you feeling?”

“I was kidnapped and tortured by two psychos and was saved by my favorite doctor...I’m great, but oddly hungry.” You chuckled then winced and looked down at your body under the blanket. You got out of the bed even with all the protest from Reid so he decided just to help you out of the bed instead of trying to fight with you. You walked over to he mirror and tried lifting up the gown, not caring Reid was there and that all you would be in your black bra and underwear. 

“Get it off.” You said quietly to Reid who was looking down at his feet.

“(y/n)... I don’t think that’s a good-” Spencer started to say before you cut him off.

“Now Reid!” Your voice raising slightly. He nodded and aided you in getting the gown off being careful of the wires and IV’s connected to you. You looked at all the scars littering your entire body, the long scars from the cuts, the circle marks from the burns and even your two missing nails. “I’m so...gross...” You mumbled, tears streaming down your face as you looked back at Spencer. He didn’t know how to react but all he could do is reach out and pull you into a hug. 

“You’re not gross...In fact you’re quite the opposite. Not only are you genuinely beautiful to me, you are also very smart, caring, brave, and funny. These scars only show how brave you are.” Reid said as he brought you back over to the hospital bed, laying you down and sitting next to you. “I know my opinion might not mean much to you,  but you are the most beautiful human being I’ve ever seen in my life.” He tells you.

“It means-....it means a lot to me, Spence.” You said as you looked up into the eyes of your hero as he wiped away your tears. “I have a question, Reid.” You started, getting a nod from him so you could ask. “Why did you look so mad when you found me?”

“Cause I let the most important person to me get too close to death.” Reid said without thinking, causing him to blush brightly. 

“I’m important to you?” You ask as you sat up, looking at him, blushing slightly as well.

“Yes...very important (y/n).” Reid said looking at you, brushing your hair behind your ear. There was a comfortable silence between you too as you stared into each other’s eyes. Like magnets, you felt yourself being pulled to him, never realizing just how amazing Reid was. He was extremely attractive, you’ve always thought so, but it was more so now than ever. Neither of you realized how close you were to each other until you felt his soft breath fan across your lips. “And I can prove it to you,” Reid told you as he glanced down at your lips. You were slightly shocked when you felt him press his lips onto yours, causing you to smile and kiss him back softly. 

“I think that’s all the evidence I need, doctor,” You chuckled, feeling all the negativity from before fade away. You pressed your lips to his again causing Reid to pull you closer and placing his hand on your cheek. “I wanna go home Reid...Can you take us to get take out, bring me home, cuddle with me and watch movies you cute insomniac?” You asked Reid, remembering it’s like 3 in the morning. 

“Why of course my adorable soldier.” He smiled, blushing as he brought you your clothes for you to go change into. You changed while he went check you out the hospital so by the time you were dress, Spencer was ready to head out. Work might just be more bearable with this dork by your side.

A/n: Let me know how you liked this! I’m thinking of doing a part two, depending on how this goes. The part two would probably be on more of the recovery of the reader OR the reader and Spencer Reid sneaking around and fraternizing during work hours if ya know what I mean lmao 

[dememarquette]

True Crime

They parked outside a cottage. Portend Point was a gorgeous neighborhood. Occupying it, 1305 Parkview was an equally picturesque property. It had everything one could want from a gentrified postcard: a manicured lawn, a white picket fence, friendly neighborhood dogs excited to see you but not too excited. A sign advertised this slice of warm American pie could be yours. FOR SALE it said, smacked across an unfortunate realtor's forehead. Kevin Locklear had a new golf cart staked on this commission. In his desperation, which reeked as bad as the scene, he ducked below the police tape to plant an optimistic 'Open House Resumes Wednesday!' picket. Adria would take personal pleasure in throwing it in the garbage.

"Jean and Sidney Morin," She briefed, as Ian punched in the door code. "They're from New Gisen, reported missing 72 hours ago. Gas station footage has the suspect grabbing Jean at the Circle K. Sidney was seen by traffic cams in hot pursuit, but we have nothing after the first intersection. Men are checking doorbell cameras along the street. So far, nothing." The stolen car in the driveway was similarly combed through. Every stray hair inside was documented. There wasn't much left that wasn't bagged, tagged and sent off to the lab, but Ian liked one last intimate walk-through before tossing the keys to clean-up. If he was absorbing one word of what Adria was saying, it didn't show. Her partner worked like a TNT detective. Adria pictured the world bottoming out around him. He'd suffer 50 consecutive epiphanies after looking at something stupid like a tipped ketchup bottle, and construct a convoluted MO from there, but that's not how she worked. If reading the block text helped, murder's hooked on phonics, by God she'd do it. "Neighbors didn't hear anything. We have no idea where the struggle took place, if there was one. Judging from the looks of this place-" "It wasn't here." He said, tuning in only for silent confirmation. She nodded, and he killed the lights. His UV swept over the walls. The inside had the aesthetically-pleasing insipidity of a gourmet cracker. It had been sanitized for a showing, but according to the carpet, the perp wasn't admiring the crown modeling. A modest drip-trail led straight from the front door to the basement, and there wasn't a petal out of place before it. After a quick scan of the rooms composing the ground floor, Ian got his fill of Ashley HomeStore's heritage collection. To the basement they went. Each wood plank creaked under their feet. The floor consisted of a flat slab of water-stained cement. The space was fashioned into a man-cave. Shelves were bolted to the walls. All the sofas were leather. Posters on the wall were swapped for something more palatable, flanking an entertainment system that was to be marveled. In a move that didn't appear to serve any purpose toward the room's breathability, all the furniture was shoved to the side to clear the center. A single bulb hung by chain overhead. Energy funneled through a copper wire made it hum. Evidence photos never did it justice. The victims were strung together by a lawn hose. A single cloth gag- maybe a sheet- knocked their heads together, pulled taut at the pocket of their jaws. Their height difference forced Jean's face heavenward. The whites of her eyes were visible from the top, but you had to be at the bottom to see the shadow she sat in was actually a pattern. Their blood leaked into a paste-like outline, seeping color into the circle etched into it. Where the natural tug of gravity didn't fill the trenches, the killer dropped to their knees and started fingerprinting, casting away any macabre elegance it formerly had. Their hands scraped to fill the pattern all until it got to the bottom of the arc. Ian read her mind. "They were interrupted." "By what?" She asked. His mouth pressed into a hard line. He didn't have an answer. Instead he completed his circuit before dropping closer to the gag. Adria knelt beside him, her boots toeing the edge where the brushwork tapered. Fingerprints- fragmented and smeared- were shipped off to IAFIS. Problem was, when the suspect hadn't indulged in some casual DUI, she needed something to match it to. She sized her hand up against theirs, while the deceased husband stared on. Adria avoided eye contact. Violent crime wasn't anything new. She's seen her fair share since moving to the city, but never a throat cut this deeply. Sidney had been nearly decapitated. Skin folded off his Adam's apple like a bow-tie. Stringy matter underneath was on full display. "What about the design? Does that mean anything to you?" "The team is working on tracking it. So far they're thinking it’s some type of online cult." "And that?" She tipped her head to the bowls skirting the outline. Ian grabbed one, sifting through it with a finger. Its contents stuck to the latex, white. "Cinnamon, and salt. The last one's pyrite. Offerings." "Then what were they?" "Bait." The moment he said it the lights died. Ian shot up. Adria pulsed to follow, but her balance teetered. Neither were near a switch. "Who else is here?" "No one." The bowl Ian was holding warbled a low note, spinning where he’d been. He shouted from the foot of the stairs. "Has to be the breaker. Don't move." "What?" "Don't move." "Wh- I'm not going to touch anything!" Adria lurched on steel-toes. Offense had her fumbling with her flashlight. Sure. Okay. Fine. So in the past she hasn't been the most careful. Maybe she's stomped through one or two crime scenes. But never when it mattered! So it's not like she'd- Something blew past her ear.  With a graceless shriek, she made it a third. "God DAMN it!" Coagulated blood gunked to her jeans. She fell onto her back, swearing and curling to assess the damage. Ian would take one look at her and scowl. He'll do that smoldering, glower thing of his that she only liked when it was directed to other people. And then she'll have to go home, change her jeans, and hope he lets her back onto the property before they break out the body bags. He's going to see right away that- There's smoke? She dropped her knee. Sniffing, she swiveled. Air was escaping somewhere, hissing like a busted soda can. Whatever it was suffused the room. Her eyes burned just to move, but she couldn’t shut them. It could be more than the breaker- But that wouldn't explain why it was in the middle of the scene. With a yelp, she witnessed a spark fly between the corpses. Her heels planted into the floor. She kicked, hastily wedging distance between her and smog lifting off the concrete. She could've pretended she missed the class where she found out cinnamon was flammable. She could've maybe let it slide that denim wasn't an accelerant, but this was straight up sulfur. A ribbon of light unwound between them. A silhouette stretched out from behind it, towering. "Ian?" She asked, already knowing it wasn't. It had too many feelings to be. "What is this?" It croned. Miserably, it picked up a leg. "Ugh." Fingers acting faster than her brain, Adria whipped her gun from its holster "HANDS. Hands up, now!" "Sticky-" It groused. She heard a wet, staggered ppmf-ff. That suspiciously sounded like bodies toppling. In a maneuver she couldn't repeat, she blindly vaulted over the sofa, jamming herself between its backing and the wall. Her vision developed slow. First outlines, then shapes. Colors a little after when the smokescreen fanned out, blurring the glow around his face. She propped up her gun. Old leather gave away her position. The red light of eyes widened, vaguely cartoon-ish. "WHOA, hey now. Don't shoot." "Get on the ground." She ordered. "I said I wanna see your hands! Both of them, now!" "Aye-aye!" He complied. There was something sarcastic about the way his shadow wiggled to the floor. "Happy?" "Who are you?!" "Demetri Marquette, at your service." He tried to bow, until the violent rattle of her pistol suggested that was strictly prohibited. "What are you doing here?!" "Same as you, I imagine." "What?! What does that mean?" "You know. Working. The hustle." He shimmied. One by one, the candles surrounding them lit. The man in the center appeared nothing as he did in the shadows. His stature halved. The reddish glow vanished from his face, but most perplexing yet was that he somehow found a cover to throw over the bodies. With the blanket over them, they looked like fucking sock puppets. Adria sucked in a breath, sputtering nothing but inarticulated syllables for solid five seconds before, "Hey- stop fucking with my scene!!" "Oh- this?" He patted the victim's heads. The disrespect alone should’ve been grounds to fire. "I was meaning to talk to you about that. I'm sorry but two? Overkill. We’re not in the business of extra credit but I do appreciate the enthusiasm. So, uh. What's it going to be?" She swore nothing about this conversation was tracking. "Huh? "Money, fame, power, et cetera?" Nonsense! Complete nonsense. What was he implying? That this was an offer? A transaction for the bodies? It didn't matter. He overstayed his welcome before he popped in. And the fact he got in here at all may mean he knew something they didn't. This ridiculous, unexplainable suspension of belief kept her from feeling imperiled but this fuck was going to ruin the whole case if he didn't already. She pinched the button on the side of her walkie. "Ian, I need back-up downstairs now." The stranger sucked his teeth. "Ah. I wouldn't do that.” ’Oh my God, shut up. “Come on, talk to me.” He cooed. “What would make you more comfortable? Fresh air? The lights- is it the lights?" She glared, trigger finger satisfied with rapid-fire button clicking. Ian's hip would be going off like the fire alarm should be. "You know, I was going for ambiance, but." He snapped. Suddenly the power was back. She twisted from her fort. Corner to corner, stomping cleared across ceiling. The basement door creaked. Ian came swinging down the stairs, perfectly on cue. "The breaker fixed itself." He announced, sounding leery of it. "Imagine that," Said Blondie. Adria’s aim stayed fixed, prepared for sudden moves. There weren’t any, even from her partner. Ian’s velocity slowed to a stop. His grip on the handrail turned rigid before the bottom, tightening like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His eyes roved over the ruined scene, the magnitude of it driving a huge crease into his brow. He did not notice the stranger directly beside him. Adria desperately looked between the both of them. "He can't see me," Demetri elaborated. "Adria?" Said Ian. The gravelly rumble of his voice asked fifty questions- none of which she had an answer to. She had a gun aimed at nothing. Two bodies were down, bizarrely set up for a picnic. "I-..." She stuttered. "Word of advice," Demetri picked a piece of lint of Ian’s shoulder. The detective reacted with only the slight drift of his eye-line, before his attention snapped back to Adria. "Don't say anything or you'll buy yourself a ticket to a psych eval." "Ian, you can't-?" "Nevermind. From this angle, you already look insane." Ian waited for her to continue but she lowered her gun. If he was right, there was no coming back from this. "...I thought I saw someone in the smoke." "Smoke?" There was no smoke. No fire, no light. Demetri's trapeze around the basement hadn't even left footprints. To Ian, she used the two minutes he was away to go nuts. Just lose her mind. Sanity to the wind. Who needs to critically think when you can barricade yourself behind a sofa, wildly waving a gun around? Defending yourself from scary shadow people that a paid electricity bill keeps at bay? Ian stared, impatience surging from a quiet simmer to a boil. She realized it’s been too long since she even tried answering a question. "Are you alright?" He rephrased. What she heard was ’Are you an idiot?’ Her face burned hot. "I think-" She slung her bag over his shoulder. "I think I need a minute. I'll be back." The tight set of his jaw meant he agreed. She ran past him, bolting for the cruiser. Now she was going to have to type up an incident report. Scrub her pants. Contemplate the onset of her paranoia induced insanity, and hope they wouldn't take her badge for this. She threw herself into the front seat of her cruiser. The door slammed behind her. Before she’d let frustrated tears get the better of her, she pulled up a Chrome browser. Occult. Satanism. She typed. Demon summoning. Symbol. All the results looked close. Matching the exact twisted pattern would be a nightmare. "Mind if we hit Starbucks?" Demetri necked her seat. She jolted, narrowly stopping herself from throwing her elbow through his eye socket. Knowing he was fictional made her wish she hadn't hesitated. "Why are you in my car?!" She swiped at her face. "For a frap. Hopefully. Is butterscotch still in season?" "No! Get out." His cheek squished against her headrest. "Aw, c'mon." She adjusted the rear-view, only for him pop up passenger side. "I get it." He said, proving he did Not actually. Devoid of any understanding of what 'Get out' meant, "More of a Dunkin' girl. That's fine I guess. Oh! Hope you don't mind. I dug through your glove department. I was trying to get to know you." He waggled a scrap of stationary. "Does the department know you're dating? Seems naughty. Is that against HIPA or something?" She flustered, red-faced. That note had been in Ian’s lunch. "OUT!" "I mean, I'm not judging. I like it. You'd think detective romances would get cliché but ugh." He pressed it to his heart. "There's something so enticing about seeing the ugliness of humankind hand-in-hand with the one you love. A real testament to love's resilience. Do you listen to Rihanna?" We Found Love belted from her speakers. Forget the psych eval, now she had to worry about the HOA. "What do you want, huh?!” Adria punched her stereo. “What do you want? Why are you here? Turn this OFF-" "I want to know what you want." He shrugged. "I want you to leave?! I’ve said a million times!" "No can do. Gonna need something more substantial. Unless, gasp." He made a show of patting down his slacks before producing a pen. The document it came with looked real and official. Spooky, until it came to 'Officer Hardass' at the top of a memo. It read "I forfeit my eternal soul to get Demetrius Marquette to GTFO" in gold. She looked down at the paper, head reeling. This was a fever dream. A nightmare. A joke, but she could feel the weight surrounding the document. Metaphysical. And as tempting as it would be to physically take his pen and jam it through his palm, five finger fillet- "NO." She shouted, chucking it back at him. "I'm not selling anything." Rihanna's chorus guttered and died. Its volume fell with his face. Hopeless indeed. "I don't get it." He huffed, impossibly exasperated. Like she was the one being objectively difficult here. "Why did you even summon me, then? What's the point?" "I didn't summon you, asshole! Some psychopath did!" "Huh." He pondered, deciding that did make more sense after-all. "...SO GO AWAY." "EeeeeEEEH. I don't think I will." He kicked back in the seat. A pair of sunglasses slid down his nose, gilded logo hitting the sun just right. How did a Dolce and Gabbana sales associate see him but not Ian? "You see. The problem is that I'm here now. I can't go home without something to show for it." "That's not my problem," Adria said, incredulously. "YOU are my problem! I don’t know who you think you are, but I don't owe you anything. You came onto my scene, jeopardized my career, made me look like an idiot, and now you're making my car smell like eggs!" Demetri recoiled. For a moment she thought she got through to him. Then it became abundantly clear it was just the egg part, actually. "Wow." He said. Hurt gave his voice a raspy edge. "Wow..." “So GO AWAY.” She tried for two. Three would be a taser. “You- you know what?” Demetri splayed his hands. “Fine. We’re done here. I’ll go-” “THANK YOU.” He scowled. “-I’ll go, but I will be back. And when I return, we're continuing this discussion in earnest. I hope, I sincerely hope Detective Kyro, that you think about it." She wouldn’t. But he vanished before she could say so. - - - By the time she got home, the scene was cleared. Since it had been cataloged ad nauseam, there was no need to report his partner’s lapse in sanity. Ian let it go. He covered her ass by risking his to shuffle in clean-up before anyone with a badge audited the damage. She got off easy. Despite earning every letter of a psych referral, confrontation fell away into 'unspoken' territory. He said nothing, but it was strongly encouraged by his cancellation of their Friday after-work happy hour that she take an extended weekend to 'rest.' That part he phoned in without her approval. Defeated, she threw off her jacket. She hooked her gun belt on a peg by the door. Her jeans were just going to burn- they were as good as cursed as far as she was concerned. There was nothing left to do but take a long, hot shower. Maybe she’d feel better if her skin ran hotter than the shame. The rest could be dealt with Monday. What choice did she have, really? She jammed a thumb through her braid. The plaits fell loose as she kicked off her boots, Adria went through the motions of attaining tentative comfort. And the moment she thought she could let it go (until she’d inevitably replay it at all again tonight) she smacked into the chest of someone in the bathroom. Her bathroom. This motherfucker made himself at home. “So,” His finger wound in the cord of her hairdryer. Freshly washed, and expertly coiffed, Demetri smelled exactly like her body wash. "Did you think about it?"

[thewalkingdead-fan101]

In This Hell Daryl Dixon X Reader Part 4/??

Hey Guys! Part 4 is here! I really hope that you guys enjoy it! I also apologise if something isn't written correctly. :) Warnings- General Walking dead warnings, Blood, Gore, Swearing.

Opening my eyes, I sit up uncomfortably as I stretch. 
Last night, the group had a restless nights sleep… well more so than usual.
Daryl left in the middle of the night, to look for Sophia, and still hasn’t come back. Carol was up all night crying… 
Not that I blame her, Her daughter is missing.
"Morning." "Morning Carol." I smiled softly. "Where's Daryl?" She asked watching the door behind me. "He left last night, and went looking, still hasn't come back that I know of.” "Oh.. My, I am so sorry." "Don't be.. He is a grown man, he can handle himself." "I really do appreciate this." "I know that if it was my child out there you'd help to find them." She softly smiled nodding, then hugged me. "I'll see what's going on." I smiled and walked out.
I look out and seen Daryl, leaning against the traffic barrier, exhaling smoke.
 We locked eyes from across the car wrecks.
“At least he is okay.” I said under my breath.
I walked over to where the everyone was gathering supplies for their search party.
“Morning Glenn." I smiled, walking past. "Everyone. Come here." We all walked towards where Rick was. He unfolded an arsenal on the hood of a car. "Everybody takes a weapon." "These aren't the kind of weapons we need. What about the guns?" Andrea asked, "We've been over that. Daryl, Rick and I are carrying. We can't have people popping off rounds every time a tree rustles." My brother answered "It's not the trees I'm worried about." "Say somebody fires at the wrong moment, a herd happens to be passing by. See, then it's game over for all of us. So you need to get over it." Shane said. "The idea is to take the creek up about five miles, turn around and come back down the other side. Chances are she'll be by the creek... It's her only landmark." Daryl said. "Stay quiet, stay sharp. Keep space between you, but always stay within sight of each other." "Everybody assemble your packs." Shane announced. They better not think that I'm staying here. "Shane" I ran after him. "Yeah?" He asked.
 Before I got the chance to say anything, arms wrapped around me and started to carry me away. I didn't scream because Shane was laughing as soon as it happened, so it wasn't a walker. I was put down away from everyone. "How-" My back was pushed against a car, and his lips crashed to mine.. I bit his lip, not hard but not soft. "What was that for?!" "For not letting me know that you were okay…” I said sweetly. “Ya don’t need to worry about me.”
“I do though… I worry about you.” "I'll see ya later." He said softly kissing my neck. "Huh?" "You're gonna be staying here while we look for Sophia." He continued. I rolled my head back. "Okay… I will see you when you get back.” I closed my eyes and the sensation stopped. My eyes shot open to see Daryl, running towards the group. I scoffed when realisation hit me. He hit me where I was most vulnerable… I smirked, that asshole. I walked back to the RV. "Why are you so happy?" "That man... Deserves an award for that." We looked at each other and laughed. "Where's Dale?" We both got up and looked atop the RV. "Ain't you supposed to be fixing that radiator? What if they come back with Sophia and Rick wants to move on right away?" "I had it fixed yesterday." "What? What was all that rubbing and sanding for then? That just bullshit?" "Yeah, that's one word, another word would be pantomime. Just for show… No one else needs the know that." "Pantomime…” T-dog sighed. "If the others know we're mobile-" "They'd just want to go." I answered. "So you don't think they're gonna find Sophia, that it?" "I'm just guarding against the worst. Sooner or later, if she isn't found, people will start doing the math. I want to hold off the needs-of-the-many-versus-the-needs-of-the-few arguments as long as I can." "That's one tricky hose, huh?" "Very." Dale smiled. "Look I'm going to look around for a bit, is there anything I need to look for?" "Not at this moment. But please, please stay close." Dale said. I grabbed a duffel bag I found laying on the ground earlier, slinging it over my shoulder. "Stay safe." "Will do."
 I was walking around for almost two hours and the bag was almost full. I heard a shuffle behind me and turned quickly, only to see a rabbit run across the highway, I smiled and sighed when I heard a snarl. I looked back to see a walker coming my way I looked down and saw a stick, ducking down and picking it up I lodged it into its eye, over and over again, it's blood splattered all over my shirt, neck and face. I decided to walk back and as I arrived I over-heard Dale and T-dogs conversation. "What are we doing?" "Pulling supplies together." "No, I mean.. What are we doing? People off in the woods, they's looking for that poor girl and we're here. Why? Because they think that we're the weakest. What are you, 70?" "Sixty-four." "Uh huh. And I'm the one black guy. Realise how precarious that makes my situation?" "What the hell are you talking about?" "I'm talking about two good-old-boy cowboy sheriffs and a redneck whose brother cut off his own hand because I dropped a key.. Who in that scenario you think is gonna be first to get lynched?" "You can't be serious... Am I... Hey, am I missing something? Those Cowboys have done alright by Us. And if I'm not mistaken that redneck went out of his way to save your ass… More than once." "And don't forget about Andrea. Kills her own sister." "She was already dead." "Then wants to blow herself up. Yeah, she's all there." "She's having a tough time. What is wrong with you?" "The whole world is having a tough time. Damn, man! Open your eyes. Look where we are! Stuck in this mess here!" "Shhh." "Let's just go.. Let's just take the RV." "You've gone off the deep end." "I mean it, man. Why are we on the side of the road like live bait? Let's go, you and me and (Y/n). Let's go before they get back." "Oh, my god! You're burning up. Give me that! Come on! Here, take these. We've got to knock that fever down....where the hell are they?" "Dale, We are the weak links. An old man, a black guy and a little pregnant (Y/S/T) girl." I took a deep breath in and what was being said. 
“Nice to know what really goes on in that head of yours Theodore.. There should be some drugs in the bag." I said throwing the duffel bag at him.
 As the bag landed in front of Theodore, I noticed the two of them slowly stand up. 
“Oh, my god! Is that blood?" Dale rushed over. "Yeah. I took down a walker. It’s no big deal.” “No big-“ dale started but was interrupted by a loud scream erupted from the forest. Both Dale and I hurried to the Forrest line. All of a sudden it was quiet. After about 10 minutes of standing there waiting, I was about to walk away.
 "They're back." Dale said. "Carl's been shot." Glenn said stepping over the railing. "Shot? What do you mean shot?" "I don't know, Dale, I wasn't there. All I know is this chick rode out of nowhere like Zorro on a horse and took Lori." "And you let her?" Dale asked. I hugged Carol as she shook her head, after a few seconds she left for the RV. "Climbed down out of my asshole, man. Rick sent her, she knew Lori's Name and Carl's." Daryl said walking past, not even acknowledging that I was there. "I heard screams, was that you?" Dale asked Andrea. "She got attacked by a walker. It was a close call." "Andrea, are you alright?" She looked at him and the look on her face showed pure annoyance. "Let's go." We started to walk back when all of a sudden Daryl burst out of the RV, running towards us. Next thing i know is that I was being crushed in a hug. "You do know that if I can't breathe neither can the baby." I laughed softly. He pulled back mumbling something when he looked down. "Why are ya bloody?" I stayed silent. "Answer me." "I was attacked by a walker, and before you go and yell at them for it, I decided to look for supplies." "You are on lockdown, from now on, you ain't being alone." "Daryl, I’m not going to be a damsel in distress, or bait. Im not going to be in lock down.” "You're on lockdown! You ain't gonna be Bait and you ain't gonna be alone." “I guess that there is no point in arguing?” “Nah, there ain't. This conversation is over.” 
We both returned to the group.

“The girl on the horse, Maggie, she gave us clear instructions on how to get to the farm. We could all relocate there.” Glenn suggested.
“I won't do it. We can't just leave.” Carol defended. “Carol, the group is split. We're scattered and weak.” Dale tried reasoning. “What if she comes back and we're not here? It could happen.” She argued “If Sophia found her way back and we were gone, that would be awful.” Andrea cut in. “Okay. We got to plan for this. I say tomorrow morning is soon enough to pull up stakes. Give us a chance to rig a big sign, leave her some supplies. I'll hold here tonight, stay with the RV.” Daryl spoke. “If the RV is staying, I am too.” “Thank you. Thank you both.” Carol smiled softly at Dale and Daryl. “I’m in.” Andrea nodded. “Well, if you're all staying then I’m-“ “Not you, Glenn. You're going. Take Carol's Cherokee.” Dale argued “Me? Why is it always me?” “You have to find this farm, reconnect with our people and see what's going on. But most important, you have to get T-Dog there. This is not an option. That cut has gone from bad to worse. He has a very serious blood infection. Get him to that farm. See if they have any antibiotics, the ones that (Y/n) found won’t help for much longer. Because if not, T-Dog will die, no joke.” Dale stated. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Daryl walk over to Merle’s motorcycle. “Keep your oily rags off my brother's motorcycle. Why'd you wait till now to say anything? Got my brother's stash. Crystal, X. Don't need that. Got some kick ass painkillers. Doxycycline. Not the generic stuff neither. It's first class. Merle got the clap on occasion.” 
He tossed over a bag of assorted drugs, then pointed at me. “You, get ya stuff. You’re going with Glenn and Dog.” 
“Excuse me?”
 “You heard me.” He said walking away.

I ran after him. 
“Daryl, I want to stay, I want to be here for Carol.” 
“I don’t care what ya want.”
 “Why are you acting like this?”
 “Im already babysitting the others. Im not babysitting you too.”
 “Are you being serious? I don’t need to be babysat!” 
“You’re an easy target out here. It’s almost dark. You’re going with them.”
“Daryl-“
 “I ain’t arguing with ya. Get your shit.” He stalked off. I sighed in defeat and entered the RV, grabbing my backpack, making sure that I had the book that has become my new best friend, along the journey.
 As I exited the RV I noticed Glenn helping T-dog into the Cherokee.
Making my way towards the car, I was pulled aside and into a hug.
“Thank you. For everything.” Carol sniffled into my shoulder.
 “Hey, we’re going to find her.” I responded hugging her closer. I could feel her body softly shake against mine as she sobbed.
 “You’re so strong Carol, Sophia needs that when she comes back. She needs you at your best.” I pulled away and wiped the tears from her cheek. “I will see you again soon.” I smiled softly. “Please, Make sure you tell Lori that I’m praying for Carl.” “I will. Stay safe.” I walked over to where Glenn was talking to T-Dog and Dale.

“You’re coming?” T-dog asked. 
“I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.” I sarcastically laughed. “It may be the safest place for you. Especially in your predicament.” Andrea stated.
“In my predicament?” I scoffed “I didn’t mean to offend you.” Andrea sighed pulling me in for a small hug.
“It’s fine.” 
“I think it’s time for you guys to hit the road, while there’s still some daylight. Dont want to be taking any wrong turns.” Dale smiled. “Dale, Just remember, Backtrack to Fairburn road, the farm is two miles down. The mailbox says Greene.” Glenn stopped.
 “Fairburn, two miles down, Greene.” He nodded. “Where’s Daryl?” I asked hopeful. “Im not sure.” Dale smiled sadly.
 “Make sure you’re all safe please… Thank you.” I replied hugging him, getting into the car, behind T-dog. 
“I will.” Dale nodded. 
Glenn put the Cherokee in reverse, slowly peeling out before turning around.
As the car was turning, I spotted a pair of eyes watching, leaning against one of the trees. “Fairburn isn’t that far. Maybe 10 minutes?” Glenn spoke up, trying to fill the silence.
“Is this really a good idea? I mean we don’t even know who these people are.” I responded. 
“They seem normal. I mean why would Rick send someone to us if they were going to hurt us?”
 “Crazier things have happened.” T-dog muttered. “Come on guys, we need to be positive. They’re helping Carl. They don’t need to.” Glenn stated.
 After turning onto Fairburn Road, we continued on for the two miles. 
“Glenn. I think we missed it.”
 “What?” 
“The farm, I think we missed it…”
 “Are you sure?” He asked pulling up. “I think so? We’re looking for Greene right?” I asked. 
“Yeah.” He sighed. “How far?” 
“Not that far… I think it’s the one behind us, I’ll go check.” I went to open the door. “No. Daryl will kill me if something happens. I’ll just back up.” He smiled nervously. 
He put the car into reverse, making sure to shine the headlights onto the mailbox when it entered our view.
 “You were right… Greene.” 
“Ill get the gate. There’s no walkers around, and it looks safe to me.” I smiled, jumping out and walking toward the gate, not leaving any time to argue. 
“(Y/n)! Get back in the car! Glen whisper shouted from the driver side window. Unlatching the chain, I pushed the gate inwards and followed through. 
“Glenn, hurry up and drive in.” 
The car slowly started rolling forward, stopping a metre away from the gate.
I pushed it closed and re-latched the gate before jumping back into the car. “Lets go.” I smiled. Glenn shook his head and T-dog chuckled. We drove down the road, leading towards a beautiful farm house.
Stopping the car we all got out and walked up the front steps.
 “You okay T?” I asked looking over as he shivered, only for him to nod.
We all stopped and looked at the front door. “So do we ring the bell? I mean it looks like people live here.” Glenn looked at us. “We're past this kind of stuff, aren't we? Having to be considerate.” T-dog asked. “Did you close the gate up the road when you drove in?”
I jumped, looking over to where the voice came from, watching a young woman with short brown hair, stand up and walk toward us. “Uh, hi. Yes, we closed it. Did the latch and everything. Hello. Nice to see you again. We met before briefly.” Glenn rambled. “Look, we came to help. There anything we can do? It's not a bite. I cut myself pretty bad though.” “We'll have it looked at. I'll tell them you're here.” “We have some painkillers and antibiotics. I already gave him some. If Carl needs any…” “Come on inside. I'll make you something to eat.” She smiled at us.
We followed her inside, to see Rick and Lori standing in one of the door frames.

“Hey” Glenn patted him on the shoulder. “Hey” he returned it. “Um, we're here, okay?” Glenn nodded. “Thank you.” Lori sighed. “Whatever you need.” T-dog added, stepping aside for me. “Lori.” I pulled her in for a hug.
“(Y/n/n).” She hugged back as hard as I did.
We pulled away.
 “What are you doing here?” She asked. “I was overruled by Daryl. I wanted to make sure that you guys are okay…” I smiled softly pushing her hair out of her face. She laughed softly, her eyes rimmed red from the tears.
 “How is Carl? What’s happening?” I asked. “He was shot, the bullet, it, it broke. A fragment has caused internal bleeding. He is having seizures and its terrifying me. This man Hershel, he is going to operate... one of his group shot Carl, he is with Shane trying to find a respirator I think... I could lose my boy.” She responded tears streaming down her face.
“Oh honey.” I puled her back in for another hug.
 “You Grimes’ are strong. He will pull through. Go, be with your husband and your boy. I’ll be out here.” I smiled as she nodded. “Thank you.” She said looking at me before disappearing into the room. 
I followed the direction Glenn and T-dog went, entering a kitchen/dining area. “(Y/n), this is Maggie and this is Patricia...” Glenn introduced me. “Nice to meet you both. Thank you for your hospitality.” “You got here right in time. This couldn't go untreated much longer, ‘Merle Dixon’,  Is that your friend with the antibiotics?” Patricia asked, looking after T-dogs arm. “No, ma'am. Merle's no longer with us. Daryl gave us those, his brother.” Glenn responded. “Not sure I'd call him a friend.” T-dog muttered. “He is today. This doxycycline might have just saved your life. You know what Merle was taking it for?” She asked. “The clap. Um, venereal disease. That's what Daryl said.” Glenn nodded “I'd say Merle Dixon's clap was the best thing to ever happen to you.” She lightly joked. “I'm really trying not to think about that.” “Lighten up T.” I smiled softly, patting his shoulder.
I left the room, walking towards the front door. “Where are you going?” Glenn stood up.
“To get some air, I’m only going to the porch. I promise I’m not going far.” I smiled. He reluctantly sat back down. Taking a seat on the top step, I look out over the fields, closing my eyes, taking in the night air. Hearing gravel against wheels, I open my eyes and look up, seeing headlights making their way to the house. 
I run inside and poked my head into the room Rick and Lori was in.
“-Rick, Lori, you may want to step out.” The man I assume to be Hershel finishes. 
“I’m sorry for interrupting but they’re back.” “You stay here with him.” Hershel told Patricia.
I followed Rick and Hershel outside.
 Rick and Shane shared a hug.
 “Carl?” Shane asked “There's still a chance.” Rick responded. “Otis?” Hershel asked. “No.” Shane shook his head. “We say nothing to Patricia. Not till after. I need her.” We all nodded.
Hershel rushed inside with the bags of medical supplies. 
I looked over to my brother and hugged him, I left Shane and Rick to talk. 
Finding Lori, I sat with her and grabbed her hand, running my thumb across the back of it. “He will pull through…” I nodded.
Maggie, Glenn and T-dog has joined the living room, now waiting room. After 15 minutes Rick returns with Shane.
Waiting another 15 minutes he stood up.
“Is there anywhere I can clean up?” Shane asked. “Ill take you.” Maggie stood up, Shane following.
After an hour or so the door opened. “He seems to have stabilised.” Hershel emerged. “Oh god.” Rick breathed. “I don't have words.” Lori said huddling close to her husband. “I don't either. Wish I did. How do I tell Patricia about Otis?” “You go to Carl. I'll go with Hershel.” Rick told Lori.
Hershel and Rick left, leaving, Lori, myself and the others.
Lori looked over to me.
“Go, see your boy.” I smiled.
Glenn and T-dog were celebrating.
I smiled as they laughed, even joining them before leaving the room.

My head turned and I seen Patricia sitting at the table, where she not long ago treated T-dog.
 I could hear the muffled voices of Hershel and Rick, then the gut wrenching sound of desperate sobs throughout the house. 
My heart breaking for the woman, the woman whose husband won’t ever return.


Series Masterlist Next Part

[theramblingscriblerian]

Noodles on 51st And 3rd

The noodles at the corner of 51st and 3rd were the best in the Lower City, even if they were frozen and off of a truck.  Hell, that was WHY they were the best.  Go to the larger eateries in the district, and you find the crap homemade stuff, where half the protein is probably made up of bugs and general filth.  The little kiosk where I was busy slurping down a bowl full, though… THAT was good.  And safe.

And it gave me a good view of the square.

Even at 2am and change, the square was alive with people, bathed in the ever present neon glow from a hundred signs, and the shifting shadows generated by no less than five mega-screens that were hawking everything from shaving cream to women ready to turn your night into a decadent dream of sheer pleasure.  All of it also held the unspoken promise of emptying your credcard.  I snorted to myself as I swallowed the last of the noodles; this joint was pricey enough.  The last thing I needed was a synthetic whore and a shave that smelled like cat piss.

The steady undercurrent of a thousand human voices thrummed at my ears, punctuated with traffic, both ground and sky-based.  The city never slept, never paused.  Only the crowds changed.  Gone were the daytime suits and drones, talking into their pads as they negotiated everything from multi-million dollar deals to home deliveries of groceries.  Now the streets belonged to an entirely different subset of the business world, the seedier subset, the subset that kept the city running while at the same time infusing it with a thousand different cancers.

Even the sky changed.  During the day you had the sun, of course, struggling to break free of the smog layer that seemed to perpetually hang just above the tops of the highest mega-scrapers.  At night, though, it was as if the world were finally letting go of a long held breath.  Clouds formed among the higher buildings and would, for an hour or two, let loose the weeping rains that scrubbed both sky and street of the accumulated filth.  It wasn’t raining now, but the streets were still slick with precipitation and oil, and the gutters were still clogged with miniature jams of garbage and things less savory.

I tipped back my head and drained the bowl of the last of the juices, chopsticks held between two fingers as I did so.  Letting out a long sigh, I dropped both on to the counter and took out a cig from my coat’s inner pocket.  It was bent, had been partially smoked already, and tasted wonderful when combined with the aftertaste of the noodles.  I looked up and from under the rim of my hat at the elderly man behind the counter, and tilted my head up at him.  He just looked back at me and snorted.

“That gǒu shǐ will kill you, Man,” he wheezed at me with a dry smirk.

“Your noodles will kill me first,” I countered gruffly, voice hoarse.  “Synthetic crap grown in a vat…”

Chuckling, he magically produced an old lighter and held it to my cig.  “You go to Kwon’sfor the real thing,” he quipped. “But my synthetic gǒu shǐ must be better than the gǒu shǐ he uses.”

I barked a short laugh; he was probably close to the truth.  But then, hell, everything in this world was set to kill a man.  Food, pollution, other men…. I took a long deep drag, reducing the length of the cig by another quarter, and let the smoke escape through my nostrils, into the still damp-smelling air.  This thing was probably my healthiest habit.

A sudden, discordant noise caught my attention, a rising in a group of voices, their tones turning angry, loud, contentious.  The old man nodded to me knowingly, and I turned my head just enough to peer back towards the other side of the square.  Five men were pushing their way through the crowds, going against the grain, heading into a small theater that had stood in the spot for a century at least.  No movies had played there for at least 25 years, but I knew that games aplenty were its hallmark.  I didn’t care about that, particularly.  It was the gamemaster that would be there tonight that I was interested in.  And those were his goons.

Slowly I stood, adjusting my my hat, drawing my coat around myself, and turned to go.

“Hey!” the old man snapped, a crooked and boney finger tapping on the plastic counter.  “You pay first.”

I stopped and looked back, cig still clenched in my teeth.  One hand went to my left side, under the coat, checking the pistol that was securely strapped there.  “Put it on my tab,” I remarked absently.

“Your tab is no good if you dead,” he muttered back.

“Ye of little faith,” I retorted, turned, and promptly walked into someone’s outstretched hand as it landed on my chest, fingers splayed.  I stopped on the spot and looked down with widening eyes.

“That shouldn’t be a surprise,” the woman with midnight hair drawled.  Her eyes never left mine as she used her free hand to throw a couple of silver coins on the old man’s counter.  One of them bounced into my abandoned bowl.  He looked down to them, frowning, then let his eyes widen in surprise, finally grinning a gap-toothed smile as he cackled, sweeping them up greedily.

Slowly she let her hand fall from my chest, but I didn’t move.  I was still too surprised to see her.  Here. Now.  Standing there like she had always belonged at my side.  Well, hoolies.  Once upon a time, she had.  Her mouth twisted into a sardonic grin, black lipstick and dark eyes both sparkling under the red neon lights.  “What’s the matter, noodles strangling you?” Her refined British accent still made me feel a warmth deep in my heart.  “Maybe they will be your death after all.”

“No, not them,” I responded in my hoarse voice, head tilting up enough so that the rough scar along my throat became visible, sliding up from beneath my shirt collar.  “But you sure as hell tried.”

Her grin turned into a full blown smile.  “Now, darling, you know that was just a bit of foreplay.  I wanted to make things look good.  Had to fool the mark and his boys.  It’s how the game is played.”

“You cut my goddamned throat,” I murmured.  Despite myself, my hand reached out and cupped her cheek.

“And I knew,” she responded slowly, eyes closing for a moment, “that your nanites would seal it up in less than a minute, helpful little blighters that they are.  Although,” she added, almost wonderingly, eyes opening again, her own hand reaching up, a single finger tracing that scar, “I didn’t think they would leave a mark.”

A snort was my initial response, and then I added, “You left the mark.  More than one.  And most of them can’t be seen.”

“Are you telling me that you’ve missed me?” she asked softly.

I stared down at her for a moment, then tilted her head up.  My lips came within a whisper’s breadth of her own.  “Want to go play?” I asked quietly, nodding towards the old theater.

Her grin, at the same time feral and eager like a child being offered a piece of candy, was answer enough.

“Hey!” the old man suddenly shouted.  He looked up from one of the coins that he was still admiring, clasped in his grimy fingers.  “Stop flirting!  Get to work so you can pay your tab!”

I looked back down to her, then began to laugh.  A real laugh.  The first I had had in a long while.  Throwing an arm around her shoulder, I drew my gun with the other.  She had already produced her own heavy-barreled pistol and held it at the ready.

“Yeah,” I said, puffing out more smoke, starting off with her across the street.  “Let’s get the game a-foot.”

Abruptly her delicate fingers snatched the cig from my mouth and tossed it into the scummy waters of the gutter, where it briefly hissed and was lost amongst the rest of the trash.  “That gǒu shǐ will kill you,” she remarked.

Behind me, all I heard was the old man cackling.

[justjessame]

If Only Someone Looked At Me Like They Look At Guns 1

When I bought the secondhand bookstore in South Boston, my dad thought I'd lost my mind. What was I, a native West Virginian, going to do all alone in Boston? Sell books, I'd thought. And live my life, finally, I added.

I had spent a healthy portion of my life being the perfect daughter. The one who gave and gave and made sure that I did everything in my power to make my parents proud. I gave everything to everyone, until there was little left for myself. Now, at thirty years old, I could finally have something for myself.

Besides which, have you ever seen Boston? It's gorgeous and colorful. However, when my dad helped me move into the apartment I'd leased within walking distance to my new, old store "As the Page Turns" he wasn't impressed.

"Really, Tessa?" He asked, looking around. "You're going to be homesick. This place is too noisy, it's too dirty. You're going to miss good ol' West Virginia."

Dirty and noisy? Coal mines, I thought, and the plants that made it smell or shot smoke up into the air weren't the same? Instead of arguing, I diverted him with the manual labor of the move. "You going to help me with this bed, Dad? Or should I ask a neighbor?" That got him moving.

It didn't cure his nagging. Not before he headed home, nor after he'd arrived. It made the weekly phone calls a bit of a hassle. I wanted to talk about how I was making my store a success. He wanted to bring up the things I'd left behind. I wanted to discuss the changes I made as the money started to come in earnest. He wanted to listen for a sign of homesickness. Not a call passed without at least one, "You ready to come home yet?"

Two years, I thought, walking to work in the early morning sun. I was smiling. I loved my life. I was busy. I made the store a reasonable success, adding a coffee bar and pastries to the space. And I had regulars and new customers almost daily. Success was sweet, I thought, as I unlocked the beveled glass front door and listened to the comforting jingle of the bell.

The phone rang almost as soon as I dropped my bag behind the counter. Since I wouldn't be opening for another half an hour, I had a pretty good guess of who was calling.

"Morning, Dad!" I answered, taking the cordless phone with me to start up the coffee and espresso machines. I wondered if his call would be over by the time my daily pastry delivery came. "What's up?"

"Tessa, you shouldn't answer the business phone like that." He admonished. Great start, Dad, I thought. "Why don't you have your cell phone on?"

Ugh, I thought, the chastisement with a side of criticism. Lucky me.

"My Blackberry is in my pocket. I must not have heard the call come in." I answered. "Sorry, Dad." Tessa, I thought, stop fucking apologizing, you're an adult. "How are you? Is something wrong?"

I heard him sigh. "Yes, in Boston."

"What?" I asked, wandering the store to make sure I'd put everything in order when I'd closed the evening before. The counters were clean, the leftover pastries went to the soup kitchen nearby, and the shelves were stocked and orderly.

"Don't you read or watch the news?" Irritation was so heavy on his voice that I could feel the glare across states. Why couldn't my parents have had another child so I could share this guilt and misery? "Those vigilante murderers are back in Boston. I think you should come home."

I rolled my eyes. "Dad, I do watch the news. It's just been busy. This past week's been insane." I rolled my shoulders, feeling the tension build. "And why would I care about vigilantes? Didn't they kill mob people? I sell used books and coffee." Logic, I thought, would hopefully work. "Why would I be in danger?"

"Tessa, they killed a priest." He groaned. "Why wouldn't you listen to me before running away to Boston?"

Running away? I was thirty years old when I relocated, for fuck's sake. "Dad, I'm not Catholic, nor are you." I reminded him gently. "I'm certainly not a priest." I let out a sigh I hadn't noticed I was holding. "I'm fine. I'm happy." The stress moved from my shoulders to my neck belying my words. "I'll be safe. Besides, I highly doubt they've returned. And even if they had, they couldn't be stupid enough to come back to their old stomping grounds."

Another sigh and groan from his end. "You never used to be this stubborn." Yeah, because I was too busy making sure everyone else was happy. "Didn't you tell me the bar they used to frequent was close to your store?"

Damn it. Why had he remembered that tidbit in all that I'd told him about my store? Why couldn't he recall how excited I'd been at finding the rare book one of my customers had asked for? And why had I thought sharing the 'local colorful history' of my new home with my overbearing dad? In my defense, I didn't know that someone would kill a priest.

A tap came to the front door and I nearly cheered at the interruption. "Dad, I have to go, my pastries are here." Rushing through another round of I'll be safe and ending with round of "I love yous".

I let out another sigh and ran to unlock the door. The jingle of the bell calmed me a bit as Marco, the bakery's delivery guy came in with the first load of boxes. As I rolled my shoulders and tried to crack my own neck to release the tension, Marco left for the second and last load. After checking to make sure everything was accounted for, I offered him his usual tip. A double espresso.

"Ah, that hits the spot, Tess." He smiled. "You ok?"

I assured him I was fine and we chatted about this and that.

"Better hit the road. Don't want the boss to get pissed." He said, tossing the small cup in the trash. "See ya tomorrow." I waved him out.

"Could you flip my sign?" I asked, and he smiled and did it. "Later, Marc."

I moved to fill the pastry case. Using the decorative towers and plates that I'd picked up at one of the Farmer's Market stalls. The jingle of the bell made me raise up and offer my usual greeting. "Welcome to As the Page Turns, can I help you?"

He was taller than me, but then again almost everyone was. His incredibly blue eyes crinkled with a smile as he took me in behind the counter. The pastry boxes were almost all empty and the display was filled. I was wearing a pair of skinny jeans, a loose v-neck brown t-shirt, and a pair of canvas sneakers. My auburn hair piled loosely into a bun on the top of my head and my ever present and much needed glasses perched on my nose, not thick enough to hide my green eyes.

Since he was clearly inventorying my assets as it were, I decided to do the same for him. Dark hair, looking like he'd used shears to cut it in the dark, crowned his head. His skin was sun kissed but not tan, and he wore a peacoat, black t-shirt, jeans, and boots. I could see a bit of a tattoo peeking from the collar of his coat on the left side of his neck. Another tattoo was on his right hand, along his index finger. A word, "AÈQUITAS". Huh, Latin. Justice? I felt a tingle of curiosity.

His smile turned to a smirk and I waited, raising an eyebrow under my glasses. I had my usual customer service smile on, but felt a little smirk of my own forming. Both confirming our inspection of the other, and finding it agreeable. He finally spoke.

"'Eard dis wus de place fer a master coffee on dis street." His Irish brogue is full and strong.

"Did you now?" I asked, my smile widening. "Whose singing my praises?"

"Doc." Ah, I thought. The sweet, if a bit different, owner of Mcginty's Bar, the place my dad had brought up in his call.

"What can I get you?" I asked, grinning at the thought of how many day drinkers Doc sent my way to sober up. This man, however, looked like he had recently woken up. Perhaps,he had a late night, if the slight red in the white of his eyes were telling the tale properly.

"Two av the largest black coffee yer 'av. Strong." He answered. A late night then, I smiled.

"Shot of espresso sounds in order." His eyebrows raised. "Don't look alarmed, I'll add it to the regular coffee." I turned to the machine behind me and started the two cups. "How is Doc?" I asked over the noise and my shoulder.

"'E's gran. Jammers, oi tink." Jammers, I thought, trying to make sense of the words he used. Traffic jams came to mind so I translated that Doc was busy. I had plenty of Irish immigrant customers, and I was slowly learning some of their vernacular. It was rough going, but interesting.

Capping the two large cups with black lids and sliding them into the brown sleeves that would protect my customers from burning themselves on the heat pouring from the hot coffee inside, I turned. "Well, tell him I'll try to stop over this afternoon with his favorite treat." I handed him the coffee. "Are you new in town?"

He shot me a strange look, but seeing me waiting behind the till, he gave another grin. "Aye, just visitin' for business." He chuckled at his own joke. "Ye new? Yisser accent is different."

I had heard that a great deal when I moved here. "Yep, I'm from West Virginia." My smile stayed in place. He's an odd duck, I thought, but Doc never sent me anyone dangerous or violent, so I felt safe. "Hope you enjoy your visit." I told him his total and he handed me a large bill. Opening the register to give him his change he waved me off.

"Naw, lassy, that's for yer." His smile was sweet, but the tip was twice as much as his coffees cost. I opened my mouth to protest, but he stopped me again. "Naw, oi ill in my brown 'ear it. Doc acts loik de sun shines from yer side av de street an' oi can tell why. Yer take care av 'imself, an' we take care av ours."

"Doc's a sweetheart. He reminds me of my late grandpa." I answered, smiling at the jist of what he said. "It's no hardship to check in on him." I put the extra cash under the drawer. If this strange man came back, his coffee was paid for. "I'm Tessa, by the way." I held out my hand.

"Murphy." He answered, simply, taking my hand. His hands were calloused and rough. Like the men I was raised around and the ones working in the factories here.

"Nice to meet you, Murphy." I said, my smile genuine.

The bells on the door jingled again. Another strong Irish voice called out before I could give my standard greeting. "So that's wha yer were- keepin' company wi' a juicy lassy instead av bringin' de coffee, yer arse."

I looked up and the usual greeting caught in my throat. Dear Lord, I thought, the dim light of the store allowing the beams of early morning sun to settle around the newcomer like a halo. Sun bleached brown hair, cut as haphazardly as Murphy's, light blue eyes, and scruff on the planes of his tanned face. Clearing my throat and my mind of how beautiful he was, I finally found my voice.

"Welcome to As the Page Turns." Jesus, why did I sound squeaky and breathless at the same time? "Guess one of these is yours?" I gestured at the two cups on my counter.

He turned his full attention to me and my mouth went dry as I watched him take the same inventory of me as Murphy had. Only this time I felt inadequate. I fought the urge to squirm.

"Damn it, Conner, stop starin' at 'er loike she's bill skinner. She looks loike a colt ready ter bolt." Murphy's voice broke the weird hold. 'Bill skinner'? I wondered. The horse bit I completely understood.

I cleared my throat again. "So, Connor, is it?" I asked, holding out the same hand that Murphy had shaken. "Visiting for business as well?"

Connor, the archangel of beauty choked on his own tongue as he took my hand and shot a look at Murphy. They were silent for a beat, my hand locked in the calloused heat of Connor's while they stared at each other. Great, pretty, but another weirdo.

"Aye, business." He answered, a smile and chuckle as he returned to face me. "An' yer are?"

I really wished I knew the joke. That had these two laughing every time I mentioned business.

"'Er name is Tessa. Whaich yer wud 'av known if ye'd gotten oyt av scratcher and cum wi' me, loike oi tried ter git yer ter." Murphy answered, smirking.

Connor released my hand and I leaned my hip against the counter. "Are you business partners?" I asked, wondering what type of business they could be in. Rough hands, sun kissed skin, peacoats, hair that looked like a blind barber and blunt shears created the cut weren't usually what I'd associate with business travel. They could be sailors, I supposed.

Connor and Murphy laughed. Each picking up a cup of coffee. Murphy with his right hand, Connor with his left. "Business partners?" Connor smiled, taking an appreciative sip. "Naw, brothers."

Murphy sipped his own. Closing his eyes and sighing in gratitude. "Twins in fact." He added, opening his eyes.

Connor took another drink from his cup. He moaned indecently and it made my stomach clench. "Dis coffee is rapid. Yer 'av a gift. An' I'm jealous yer git ter enjoy it al' de time."

It was my turn to laugh. "Oh, I don't drink coffee." The look of horrified disbelief on both their faces was priceless. "I make it. I love the scent of it, but drink it?" I shuddered. "No thanks."

Murphy's eyebrows rose. "'Oy can yer make it if yer allerge it?"

Connor chipped in, shaking his cup. "An' make it taste loike dis?"

I noticed the ink on his hand as he shook the cup. Another word tattoo. "VERITAS" I reached into my tiny bit of high school Latin. "Truth," I said out loud, startling all of us. I blushed as their eyes fell to mine. I swallowed. "The truth is- my parents love coffee. When my mom died, I learned to make a decent cup so my dad could wake up to it. Worked as a barista for a bit. Still hate the taste."

Connor's eyes burned into me, making me curious again about the two of them. "Konnor, perestan' pyalit'sya, ty yeye pugayesh'." Murphy broke the silence in a murmur. The language sounded almost guttural. Russian? Strange.

Connor's eyes never left me as he answered. "Notò la mia mano, Murphy. Pensi che chiamerà la polizia?" The language he'd chosen sounded more lyrical. Wait, 'polizia'? Police?

I cleared my throat. "Well, this has been- interesting." I smiled, hoping to defuse whatever tension was between the three of us. "Could you please let Doc know I'll be over around lunch?" I asked, needing time to process. Hoping desperately they'd take the hint.

Murphy spoke again, tugging his twin away from the counter. "Naw problem, lassy. We'll be 'appy ter let 'imself nu. Say take 'er 'andy, Connor."

"Clap yer lay-ra, lass." Connor said, allowing his brother to steer him out the door, Murphy shooting me a wave.

Well, then, I thought. Going back to the pastry display, I started clearing the empty boxes. What the hell was all that?

Russian translation from Murphy: Connor, stop staring. You scare her.

Italian translation from Connor: She noticed my hand, Murphy. Do you think she'll call the police?