dclovesdanny

[rural-panoptes]

Pay with..?

[giorno-plays-piano]

Bucky got kidnapped by a villain!reader who wants revenge and is toying with the reader who thinks she has the upper hand. He finally stops messing around with her before taking her right there and then with a hot and passionate non-con sex like he has always been dreaming all this time he had been obsessing over her,stalking her and watching her from afar. Surprise,suprise! 😱🖤 And can you also please add Bucky enjoying being tied up by the person he's obsessed with for a long time? 🙈❤💕

I kinda united these requests because I felt they were similar, but if you would like to see a story other than the one I’ve done, please let me know <3

P.S. I’m honestly not sure if I was able to do well with this one because I couldn’t write the non-con part. I’m very sorry about that. Please feel free to call me out for it 🙈

Till Death Do Us Part

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Soldat!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, mentions of abuse and non-con, brainwashing, stalking, kidnapping.

Words: 2000.

____________

It took you months to plan this operation and years to track down the Asset once he left Hydra. Captain and his lovely paper soldiers were hiding him well from the organization, and you had spent lots of time trying to hunt him down, but you weren’t concerned with it. You were a great one for waiting, day after day tracing Avengers and collecting bits of information to finally locate Winter Soldier, the first Soldat out of many. Funny, Steve Rogers and others really thought their friend was the last one.

You had to be grateful to the Soldier, one of your masters said. It was because of him you were kept out of cryochamber for so long. It was also because of him you still served as an Asset, trained by the fearsome Soldat himself. Since he left, you were considered one of the very best Soldiers of the organization, and it was partly a reason why they made you track him down.

The other reason was your intense hatred for the man who had been methodically destroying you after you became a part of Hydra decades ago.

You didn’t know why he chose you. Of course, you weren’t the only one he trained, but the only one Soldat raped time after time. He used you like you were made to fulfil his desires, not to become a tool in your masters’ arms. In the end, you had never felt like an Asset while Winter Soldier was still looming behind you. You were a broken toy Hydra was using for murder while Soldat treated you like a doll, taking whatever was left of you for his own pleasure. No memory suppressing machine could wipe this out of your mind. 

You grew used to it. Years of training and abuse and complete control were enough to made you as submissive as others. However, the thought of stabbing the Soldier in the chest had always lingered somewhere at the back of your mind. You hated him more than any of your masters. They were evil, of course, but only the Soldier knew what it meant to be an Asset. 

And he still chose to destroy you even more than Hydra did.

Of course, when your masters made you hunt him down, you were as eager as you had never been before. You had very little human left in you after all those years of serving, but anger and deep hatred were among those few emotions you could still feel. They made you keep going day after day when you were beaten for returning to your masters empty-handed. 

But you knew you would eventually find him. Despite him being a very good Asset, Soldat wasn’t perfect. He would slip up, eventually. Besides, he was trying to return that human part of him that died in Siberia 70 years ago, and it was his mistake, indeed. Only the Soldier stripped of humanity could win against the other Soldier. Captain America might be an exception, but you’d make sure Steve Rogers wasn’t anywhere near Soldat when you got to him.

And now he was there, chained to the memory suppressing machine, metal rings binding him, grim and exhausted from a fight. He didn’t look any different to you, his dark long hair still dirty, his eyes deep and dark, his body as big and muscular as you remembered. But he was there, with you, completely harmless, disarmed, unable to hurt you. It was the first time it had ever happened, and you felt a strange wicked feeling rising in your chest. Was it happiness? Satisfaction? You didn’t remember feeling anything like that before. Maybe it was what people called joy.

You needed him to undergo mind treatment before taking him to the other location. Naturally, Hydra still wanted him, but you weren’t afraid of Soldat’s return. You beaten him. You bound him. You were stronger than you had ever been before, and no Asset could do to you what Soldat did. It was your time to be his tormentor.

Little did you know it wasn’t you tracking him, but Barnes hunting you down. After his escape most Hydra’s operatives went in hiding, and cryochambers were relocated which made his task more difficult, but he was determined to find you.

Yes, Bucky knew he treated you wrong. He still remembered all the things he had done, and he wasn’t trying to sugarcoat them. Nevertheless, he wanted you back. He needed you, and, more importantly, you needed him. You needed to get your life back, your privilege to be human. You needed to be treated like a person, not a tool.

And Bucky needed a family.

Despite all his attempts to have his life back, he just wasn’t that smiling young boy who left Brooklyn in 1943. Maybe he was finally free of Hydra’s brainwashing thanks to Shuri, but he still didn’t feel fully human. Steve couldn’t understand him - in fact, no Avenger could. Even Natasha didn’t know what being an Asset meant, how badly it changed him. Of course, Barnes couldn’t blame Avengers. He was just so, so lonely.

Bucky needed a family, Steve said. It would give him the reason to fully recover and find his place in this strange new world they were forced to live in. Look at Clint, he said. Whatever was happening to him on the missions, he was always coming back to his wife and kids. They were his world.

But there was just one woman he remembered loving, the one who was with him through his darkest days when he wasn’t him but the Soldier. Maybe it was the Soldier who loved her, not him either, yet Bucky wanted her as much as that monster. Was she still there, in her cryochamber, waiting to be awaken and given orders by her masters?

He knew she was.

As you took a round piece of black plastic to put in Barnes’ mouth before wiping his memories, he suddenly chuckled, looking up at your stony face. He could tell you were tired, desperate for rest, lonely and forgotten by everyone but Hydra and him. You needed to be brought back to the world. How many decades had passed since the time when you were kidnapped? You had no one but Barnes.

Yes, he was bound by all those metal rings, but he was prepared for all of it. Stark and Steve and Banner had helped him a lot when he revealed there could be more Winter Soldiers aside from the ones who were already murdered. More than that, Shuri was now waiting for him to bring you. If she was able to wipe Hydra’s brainwashing, Bucky would get finally what he wanted.

But first he needed you to lower your guards. Though he wouldn’t have a problem with overpowering you, he didn’t want you to get even more hurt.

“Хозяева будут тебе рады.” (”The masters would be pleased to have you back.”) You said, and Bucky lifted the corners of his mouth a little.

“А ты?” (”Will you be happy to have me back, too?”)

He barely blinked, and you took a swing to his jaw, making him grunt and squeeze his eyes shut for a second. Your hand was still quite heavy, and you could put any other guy down with one blow. Not him, of course. Never him.

Licking a trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth, Bucky felt he was getting harder and bit down on his lower lip. It was odd, but, for some reason, he enjoyed being tied up by you, having you think you controlled him while he just needed to lift his finger to break free. Did you know how much he loved you? Did you know how much he still cared? How desperate he was to give you all that Hydra took away years ago? 

Barnes knew you wouldn’t forgive him now despite his best efforts, but with the help of Shuri he would imprint it on your brain: you needed him. You needed him to love and protect you after all years of abuse you suffered. He was the only one who could really understand you - and the only one to save you from the world’s most vile organization SHIELD had been fighting for decades.

When you brought that piece of black plastic to his mouth again, Bucky had stretched his metal arm, and the rings binding him fell to concrete floor with a loud thud. You reacted momentarily, backing off and aiming your gun at him, but Barnes was much faster, catching the bullet with his metal hand. Oh, he could see you were surprised despite that blank expression you wore when he jumped at you, sweeping you off your feet. You fought him furiously, trying to punch, stab, and kick him, but the more you fought, the more you realized the Soldat was still somewhere there inside him. Instead of rage, now you felt fear suffocating you.

No, no, no. You wouldn’t let it happen. You wouldn’t let the Soldier take you again. Being disposed by Hydra was better than this.

However, Bucky didn’t give you a choice, injecting a syringe into your neck the moment you broke his rib. Where did he hid it? Didn’t you take away anything you deemed dangerous before binding him?

“I love you,” he said, watching you going limp on the cold concrete floor, your body slowly giving up. It was a drug made by Banner - he could calm down even the Big guy with it.

“We aren’t... capable.” You hissed through your teeth, helplessly trying to make your body move but failing again and again. Fuck, no, no, NO, NO! NOT LIKE THIS! IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS!

In a matter of minutes you were no stronger than a child of a cat. No, it was called somehow differently... A kitten. No stronger than a kitten with your arms and legs giving out as Soldat lifted you up from the floor while you stared at the dirty ceiling, feverishly looking for a way out of this. How long did that drug need to be out of your system? How much time the Soldier would have? It would be enough for him to relocate you somewhere, you knew it. You’d be back into that limbo, enraged, frightened, and used. Your masters wouldn’t try taking you back.

“Stop struggling.” Bucky said as he made you drop your head to his chest, placing a little device on the lock preventing him from leaving, and in the next second something beeped, forcing a heavy rusted door to open. “I came to help.”

You reacted just like he thought you would, and a part of him was happy you could still feel at least some emotion. He thought about you being so strong that even Hydra couldn’t wipe off your personality and destroy you beyond repair. Even though you hated him with every fibre of your being, Barnes could work with that. He was relieved you felt something for him at all.

“I can help you heal. I’ll bring back the real you.” He whispered as he dropped a tender kiss to your forehead, and you clenched your teeth until it hurt.

“I will stab you in your sleep.”

Barnes laughed at that, going up the stairs in almost complete darkness and carrying you as if you were the only treasure he had ever had, forgetting about his own wounds. He had so much that had to be done to give you your humanity back. It wouldn’t be easy, and it wouldn’t be fast, but he was prepared to wait just like you waited for him all those years after his escape.

_________________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @soleil-dor @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @iheartsebastianstan @stargazingfangirl18

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

U N P L A N N E D, part two

“Hi, uh, Y/N? It’s Harry.”

You shut the bathroom door behind you like you had a few days earlier. This time, at least, you knew what you were getting yourself into. 

“Hey, hi, how are you?”

“I’m good--how are you?”

You took a breath, one that might have been too obvious. “I’m good. I’m sorry to just--ramble on your voicemail. I just, you know, hadn’t heard from you.”

Did you expect to? No. Maybe. You didn’t know. You felt stupid and embarrassed that the words had tumbled out of your mouth.

“Yeah--I know, m’sorry about that. I actually, uh, got sick actually after I saw you last, so I was out of commission for a minute. Been busy but, yeah, I’d love to see you if you’re around.”

“I am, yeah, I’m around.”

Thank god--the last thing you needed was for him to let you down easy, be too nice to say that he didn’t have any interest in seeing you again. You’d prepared for that somewhat, worried that you were just another girl he’d slept with some random night, meaningless and casual. 

Maybe it was that--maybe he thought that buying you a nice dinner one night would be enough to put this in the past. A pang of guilt when you realized that might never be possible.

You didn’t wait for him to offer a time or date. “Are you around this weekend?”

“Uh, yeah, I am.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t mean this in a presumptuous way, but, do you want to come to mine? I know that’s not, like, a date--but, it can be nicer to do something quiet, sometimes.”

You knew what he meant--you knew enough from Glenne to know that if he was seen out in public with you there’d be all sorts of whispers about what it was and what it meant. You didn’t tell him, but you figured somewhere private was a better place to have the conversation you had to have.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Uh, tomorrow? Sunday?”

“Tomorrow’s good--if that works.”

“Sure,” he said. “I can text you my address. Do you want to say around seven?”

“Sure. Yeah, okay. I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah, looking forward to it, Y/N, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You hung up, wiped at the sweat that had formed on your forehead, and stared in the mirror. It wasn’t terrible. It was awkward, sure, but he didn’t say no and he didn’t seem to think you were crazy or weird or totally out of line asking to see him again. 

You composed a message to Lexi and Glenne. 

Y/N L/N (2:31pm): I’m seeing him tomorrow. 

Glenne Christiaansen (2:34pm): Thank god. I seriously felt like Jeff could tell something was up this morning. 

Y/N L/N (2:35pm): Well don’t be weird with him!

Lexi MacMillan (2:37pm): Glenne if you fuck anything up so help me god. 

Glenne Christiaansen (2:39pm): I’m not going to! I’m a bad liar so I would appreciate it if we could get this out in the open asap. 

Lexi MacMillan (2:39pm): Glenne...not really about you 🙄 

Glenne Christiaansen (2:39pm): I’m not trying to rush you, I just feel bad knowing!

Y/N L/N (2:40pm): I know. I’m telling him tomorrow. 

Y/N L/N (2:41pm): He said I could come to his house. So, we’ll see. I’ll keep you updated.

**

It wasn’t as far of a drive as you remembered. Maybe the high levels of cortisol coursing through you sped things up, or maybe it was the adrenaline of having just hung up with your mom. 

She knew something was up--she always knew. She called you in the morning and you couldn’t do it, you pretended all was fine and you told her that you were about to head to the grocery store. She didn’t really buy it but she let you go. 

And when you got in the car around 6:15 and found yourself with enough traffic on Santa Monica Boulevard, the guilt started to creep in again. So you dialed her number, put the phone on speaker, and made her promise to not freak out. 

She’d always been the type of mom who could keep a straight face--one who played it cool even when you told her you got detention or pricey parking ticket. She raised you by herself after she split with your dad, a guy who lived somewhere outside of Las Vegas with a new wife and a new daughter. 

She was quiet when you said it. A few seconds ticked by before she spoke. Are you sure? You took a test? Who’s the father?

You know my friend Glenne? You know how her boyfriend is also in the music business? 

She couldn’t believe it at first--a name she’d heard a few times on TV or even from you. She asked the inevitable: what are you going to do?

You told her you didn’t know. You swore you’d think it all through and keep her updated, talked her down and convinced her she didn’t need to drive down to LA from the sleepy town of Santa Paula, where you grew up on bicycles and with books in your small bedroom, reaching for a future that was always bigger than your small town. 

So sure, maybe you had a plan. As a kid you always thought about being an adult--the steps in the following order: college, job, husband, promotion, kids. Scattered in between there was the possibility of a pet, maybe even relocating outside of the city--a house with a pool, for sure. 

None of it included an unplanned pregnancy fathered by someone like him. It hadn’t ever crossed your mind. 

You cried a bit more after you hung up--your mom reminded you that you didn’t have to keep a brave face for her, but after all this time, you were used to it. 

So at least, when you pressed the button on the gate that somehow paged him inside, you felt a bit more confident about your ability to spit out the words without throwing up or crying. That was a win. 

“Hey--it should open now,” his voice was muffled through the speaker, the gate started to hum before it separated, revealing a white house tucked in the hills, a smooth driveway and a view of the city. 

He greeted you at the front door, a smile on his face when you lifted your sunglasses. 

“Hi,” he said. “Find your way okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, a nod. “It vaguely felt familiar, I definitely remember drunkenly looking out the windows on the ride home.”

He laughed--apparently comfortable enough to skip over the whole awkward we slept together phase. He stepped aside and held the door open, allowing you to step into the main foyer. 

That’s when it came back--laughing as you followed him up the stairs and down the hall, a drink in your hand. The view is priceless, he said. He showed you his bedroom, the twinkly lights of Los Angeles looked like snowflakes when you blurred your eyes, he joked that maybe you both drank too much. 

You sat beside him on the bed, told him about the time Glenne came to visit in college and you realized that there was someone who could put Lexi in her place. 

Before you knew it his hands were on your skin, your fingers fumbling with the button of his pants. You told him he didn’t have to, insecurity washed through you when you realized this type of event was probably usually reserved for models or actresses. Shouldn’t it be Lexi in your place? Someone taller and thinner and prettier and richer?

“I’d give you a tour,” he said, pulling you back to the present, “but you’ve already seen it.”

You held back a smile. “I remember it all from, you know, sneaking out in the middle of the night.”

“Right, very rude of you, really,” he smiled, crossed his arms over his chest. An awkward pause. “I would have reached out, but, I dunno--I guess I thought you didn’t want me to since you left.”

You opened your mouth to speak but then licked your lips. “No--I was just, I didn’t want to impose.”

“Well, you missed what would have been a delicious breakfast.”

Quiet for a second, you were glad he was playful, friendly, flirty, even. You knew you were about to kill any sort of mood there might be. 

“Listen--uh, I actually have something to tell you.”

He tilted his head to the side, a curious smile on his face, just like when you told Glenne. He watched you, dimpled cheeks, as if you were about to admit you’d been thinking about him, wishing he’d call, hoping to see him again. 

For a second you wondered if it was the right move, telling him at all. Maybe it wasn’t his problem. Maybe he’d hate you and be angry or maybe he’d think you did it on purpose, a claim to fame or a 401k cash in. Maybe you were better off navigating the waters of motherhood alone. Alternatively, maybe you took the other path. Easier for everyone, right?

But he looked too curious, too innocent, too pure. He noticed the emotion on your face, the water that had pooled in your eyes. His expression changed, furrowed brows and a twitch in his lips before you spit it out. 

“I’m pregnant.”

Again. Quiet--the typical response at this point. Something you were used to. You could see a plane in the distance, on final approach to LAX. Somewhere in the world there were people laughing and hugging and somewhere there were scenes much happier than this one. 

“Uh--I--,” he shook his head, blinked a few times, almost like he didn’t quite understand. “Because of us?”

A nod. You didn’t feel like divulging the same information about how there was no other possibility, especially to someone like him--someone who was surely much more sexually active than you were. 

“You’re sure?”

Another nod. You reached into your purse and pulled out the papers you had printed that afternoon. The results from Dr. Weston’s office. Numbers and words you didn’t really understand. “Here--I, uh, I have these.”

He blinked again, took them in his hands and looked down at them. He licked his lips and then rubbed at his neck. “What’s all this mean?”

“It’s just the test results. I did two myself, you know, the pee on a stick ones. Then a urine sample at the doctor and a blood test, too. Four positive results.”

He was quiet, the lack of noise and words seemed to spike emotion in you, more water in your eyes became tears on your cheeks. He still stared at the paper. 

A part of you wanted to turn around, leave, drive back to your house and climb into bed. Maybe then it would feel like none of this was happening. But you were frozen, feet stuck on the floor in his foyer, staring at the stubble on his chin and the necklace that hung around his neck.

A shaky breath. “I’m sorry--I was--we used a condom, I don’t know how it happened.”

He looked up at you quickly, the rawness of your voice and cracks between words seemed to grab his attention. “Will you, uh, take a test in front of me?”

That made you stop crying really quick. “W-what?” A sniffle when you wiped at your face. 

“It’s just, to be sure. I don’t--sometimes people do this to people like me, and--” 

“Are you insinuating that I’m--” you looked around, not even sure what to call it. “Making this up?”

“It’s not you--I would ask that of anyone.”

Your lips parted, you stared past his shoulder and into the living room. 

Let me give you a tour, he’d said, dimples on his cheeks when he looked down at you that night. Sat on the edge of the couch, he stood above you, handed Lexi another drink before he introduced himself. 

We’ve already met, you teased. You recounted your first meeting, jogged his memory by describing the dress you wore, the restaurant you went to. It had been six months earlier. I’m Y/N, you said. Your name brought it all back for him.

Back in the room, he shifted his weight on his feet. You thought on it for a second. You’d expected him to be shocked and surprised--even angry or disinterested would have been understandable. You didn’t, for a second, think that he might not believe you. 

It made sense, as much as you hated to admit it. You were sure that somewhere out there was a person who would make this type of thing up--news outlets covered stories like that all the time. 

But this--the upheaval of everything you’d come to know--you wished you were making it up. You weren’t someone he met in some hotel bar with something to gain. You were a friend of a friend, wrong place, wrong time. 

“Look--someone will make us do that anyway. Jeff or someone would insist that I have more proof. And I can’t just tell them I took your word for it.”

Another reminder of the distance between you. The fact that Harry drove a Tesla and you had a Honda. The fact that now they were his friends and you were the outsider--the one screwing it all up. And now your friends had to choose sides, and apparently, Jeff was already on Harry’s before he even knew about it. 

“I mean--fine, I can show you the two I already took. I’ll take another, and you can see it, if you want.” 

He nodded. “Yeah, m’sorry, that’s just probably for the best.”

He offered to drive--promised your car would be safe in his driveway until you could come back for it. So you endured the nearly forty minute drive back to your house in quasi-silence, save for the voices from the radio that didn’t break the tension. 

He asked about work, you pretended to be interested in the upcoming release of his music. But the long pauses and sideways glances made it feel like you both knew the questions were obligatory and forced and surface, a lazy attempt at ignoring the obvious.

You pointed out a spot for him to park near the sidewalk, beneath the willow tree across the street that always left pollen on your windshield. He followed you across the road, up to the front door in your snug residential neighborhood. 

“Hi,” you called into the living room, knowing that Lexi had the day off from filming. With your luck at this point, she’d probably be naked (or halfway there) in the kitchen. High as a kite or asleep on the couch. 

“Hey! How’d it--oh.”

She appeared from her bedroom, eyes wide when she took in the sight of Harry trailing behind you. You ignored the flush on his cheeks and the shy smile he threw in her direction. 

It must have hit him--Lexi knew. Lexi--who Harry had known for at least three or four years now--offered a wave in his direction and tried to play it cool. 

“Hi Lexi.”

“He wants me to pee on a stick again,” you said flatly. 

She pulled her head back, a smirk on her face when she turned to Harry. “Really?”

He let out a sigh and shrugged his shoulders. “Do you want to know what could happen if I believed every woman who’s ever said that to me?”

“There’s been multiple?” Lexi looked at him like he was crazy.

“Well--like, two. But they were both absolutely mental.”

You walked into the bathroom and knelt down, digging through the cabinet below the sink for another test. After you took the first you bought another box--two inside. 

You grabbed it and stood, going to shut the door. “Well, I’ll be back.”

“Wait,” he said, shoving his hands in the pocket of his pants. “Can I--uh--come in?”

Lexi’s face twisted. “You wanna watch?”

“Well, how do I know that you’re not pregnant and she’s using your, you know, sample?”

Lexi looked over at you and raised her eyebrows, some type of this is unreal look on her face. 

“Fine,” you said, defeated. “Come over here.”

He stepped into the bathroom beside you and offered an uncomfortable smile, squeezing by you when you shut the door. He sat on the edge of the bathtub and stared at his hands. You pulled down your pants, sat, and then waited. 

He looked up quickly, then back down at the floor. Then back up. “Well--are you gonna go?”

“I need a second,” you said. “I’m not used to peeing in front of strangers.”

“M’not a stranger,” he made a face as if it hurt his feelings. You weren’t about to fight with him--now didn’t seem like a good time to define the relationship. “Here,” he reached up to twist the faucet, a stream of water fell into the sink. 

That helped. You held the stick in place and capped it when you were done, placing it on the sink. You flushed and stood up as if this was all in a day’s work.

“Now we wait?”

You leaned forward to wash your hands. “Doesn’t take long--apparently I’m super pregnant.”

He let out a bit of a laugh at that, a tension breaking chuckle before he picked it up. He pushed out his lips, staring down at it as if it wasn’t as threatening as you’d always felt. 

“Plus sign,” he flipped it towards you, offering you a view. 

You nodded.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

He was quiet, staring at the plastic in his hands before he put it back down.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “We used a condom.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to--we didn’t mean to. Aren’t you on birth control?”

You nodded. “I was switching to a new one around then--but my doctor said it should be just as effective,” the anxiety grew with each word, the scenarios ran through your head, what you could have done differently, if you should have left right after, cursing yourself for enjoying the sex even though it resulted in this. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you said, wiping at your cheeks to hide the evidence of the tears. You hardly knew him--crying in what suddenly felt like the world’s smallest bathroom didn’t seem like a great get to know you exercise. 

He seemed alarmed by the emotion again, a look of uncertainty crossed his face. “Me neither--I mean, I’m supposed to put out this album and then go on tour and I’ve never--”

A knock on the door, Lexi pushed it open, an inquisitive look on her face. “Everything okay?”

“No,” you both spoke at the same time. 

“Oh good,” Lexi said sarcastically to him, “you’re losing your shit over it too!”

“S’not exactly the best timing, right now, Lexi.” He stepped past you on the white tile, slipping out of the bathroom and making his way for the living room. 

You followed behind him. “It’s not good timing for me either, if you were wondering!”

He turned around quickly. “I know--I didn’t mean it like that, I just--you’ve had a few days to sit with this, right? M’just finding out now so excuse the panic.”

You took a breath, watched as he paced on the carpet and ran a hand through his hair. He stopped suddenly, looked up to Lexi. 

“Does Glenne know?”

She looked over to you, your call, Harry did the same. 

“Great--so Jeff knows! Is that why he hasn’t returned my phone calls?”

“Jeff doesn’t know,” you said quickly. “She promised not to tell him until I talked to you.”

“And you believed her?! She can have quite the mouth, for fuck’s sake!”

“She didn’t say anything, relax,” Lexi tried to settle him, her voice more collected than yours had been all week. “I talked to her a while ago. She’s freaking out, too.”

He flopped down on the couch, a big sigh before he looked up at you again. “Are you--do you want to keep it?”

“I don’t know.”

He nodded, almost like he expected the answer. 

“I wanted to talk to you first.”

He nodded again, eyes still wide. “Okay.”

“Can you just breathe, with me, for a second?” You moved to sit beside him, body angled towards his so he could watch you. In and out, in and out. 

It already felt like you were ruining his life, the last thing you needed was for him to have a heart attack on your sofa. 

He settled a bit at that, another nod to reassure you that he was getting enough air. “Sorry--I just, this is big.”

“I know,” you said. “For me too.”

“Yeah.”

Lexi was still stood in the center of the room, watching the scene unfold. When you looked up at her, she tilted her head. “I was gonna order a pizza--are you guys hungry?”

**

When Harry left the house that night he promised he’d see you the next day. Not only did you need your car, but you figured it’d be easier to actually talk some things through after a good night of sleep and some time to think. 

There was a part of you that wondered if he’d actually follow through--show up at your house at 10am like he said he would. Maybe he’d catch the soonest flight back to London and change his number, barring Jeff and Glenne from ever speaking to you again. 

The pizza was a good call on Lexi’s part. It turned out that when he had some food in him, he was remarkably less anxious. See? You’ll be fine. He’s just like a toddler! Lexi teased after he left. 

She sat on your bed with you that night and just listened. First you told her about the way he looked when you first said it, the blinking and the staring and the shuffling of his feet. Then about the car ride and the radio and the way you pretended that you didn’t notice how often he tried to look over at you on the freeway. 

You had no idea where he was at--you had no idea what he was thinking or what type of person he was. He was a stranger, really, someone who sometimes happened to run in the same circle as you and someone who now had a good reason to never want to see you again. 

Lexi said she was glad that he wanted to talk again in the morning, glad that he knew and agreed that it would be best for him to tell Jeff in a few days, once the two of you had more time to talk. 

You were glad, too. 

“I think he’s here,” she peered out the window, the Saturday sun fought its way through early morning fog. 

Your phone started buzzing in your hand--a call, not a text. You answered it. “Hello?”

“Hey--s’me. I’m outside.”

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll be right out.”

“Don’t be too long,” Lexi said, watching as you reached for the denim jacket on the back of the door. “Are we still watching SNL tonight?”

“Yeah--yeah, we will.”

“Okay,” she seemed to eye you suspiciously. “Call me if he’s being a fucking asshole, okay?”

“Okay.”

She waved you out the door, watched as you climbed inside the dark black car that was parked at the end of the walkway.

“Hi--oh, hi,” the seatbelt seemed to lurch forward on it’s own, making it easier to grab hold of once you sat down. “Glenne’s doesn’t do this.”

“S’the newer model.”

Of course it was.

“Are you hungry? I know you need your car, but I figured we could grab something to eat.”

You nodded, pushing sunglasses down to cover your eyes. “Sure, yeah.”

He accelerated, the car whirred, electric, and he adjusted a few buttons in the front. “Are you feeling alright?”

“What do you mean?”

He stole another sideways glance in your direction. “Like--you’re not nauseous yet, are you?”

“Oh--” you stopped to think about it. “No. But food tastes funny--kind of metallic, almost? I don’t know if that’s related. I’m only four weeks at this point, that’s what the email from Dr. Weston said.”

“Dr. Weston?”

“My OBGYN.”

“Right. When did you see her?”

“Wednesday.”

A left turn out of your neighborhood. You’d caught him up on all of that the night before. The appointment, telling your mom--he listened with wide eyes, pizza in hand. 

“When do you go again?”

“Next week. She said we can talk about options.”

“Oh--should I, maybe, come to that?”

You hadn’t thought about that. It certainly was too early to do an ultrasound, you figured the appointment was a nice way for Dr. Weston to let you know the options for termination, if that’s what you wanted. A shift in your seat, a nervousness when you looked over at him. “If you want, yeah.”

He nodded, quiet for a little as he drove. He was heading for closer to Santa Monica, you didn’t ask where and you figured it didn’t matter. Breakfast sounded nice. 

He eventually turned into a parking lot for a small cafe--one that you heard Jeff mention in the past--with ivy running up the outside trellis that provided some patio shade from the mid-May sun. “The scones here are really good.”

You tried not to laugh. “Scones are probably the worst breakfast pastry.”

“What?” His voice went all high as if you’d said something truly offensive. He pulled out his chair and sat, a casual outfit of athletic shorts and a sweatshirt. Sunglasses--presumably for disguise.

“Yeah,” you said, a bored shrug. “Too dry. Muffins are much better.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he looked over the menu that the hostess had dropped off, took a sip of his water before looking up at you. 

“Look, I want to just tell you I’m sorry for freaking out last night. I know this isn’t easy for you, either.”

You nodded. “It’s not ideal for either of us, I guess.”

He nodded. Fumbled with the straw wrapped between his fingers. “What are your thoughts on--” he paused, seemingly uncomfortable. “Ending it?”

You shrugged, feeling mostly disconnected from whatever bundle of cells had implanted on your uterine lining. “I don’t know--it would probably be easier.”

He watched you, an unreadable look on his face. He rubbed at his lips and nodded. “You don’t have to. That’s a big decision. I just didn’t know what your thoughts were--in general.”

“I don’t really know what they are. What are yours?”

He laughed a little. “I don’t know. I’ve never had to think much about it.”

The waitress appeared, a look of shock when he smiled up at her, the realization spread over her face before she scribbled down your orders. 

Pink on his cheeks when she left. “Sorry.”

You smiled. “I’m surprised you can be in the sunlight without people following you around.”

He rolled his eyes, let out a playful sigh. “Some days are better than others. This spot is typically safe, though.”

The waitress came back quick with coffees--you were sure to not confuse her eagerness to be near him as prompt service. 

“So--who have you told, again?”

“Just Lexi and Glenne. And my mom.”

“No one else?”

“No. Have you told anyone?”

He pushed the tiny boat of coffee creamer towards you. “No. I just went to bed last night and tried to sleep.”

Another wave of guilt. You were sure he had better things to do than stare at the ceiling thinking about abortion or full term or the possibility that something would go wrong.

“They say you’re not supposed to tell people, you know--before it’s too soon.”

“Right, what is it? Three months?”

“Yeah--twelve weeks. That’s when something is likely to happen. But, look--I get it, if you can’t do this. No matter what I end up doing, I won’t be mad if you’re not able to be around.”

The words came out more quickly than you expected, as if saying them would prevent the damage from spreading. Like a bandaid, pulled off quickly, you placed the proposition on the table. 

He made a face at that, looked down, twisted the rings on his fingers and then sighed. “I wouldn’t do that--I don’t want to.”

“Yeah, but, come on. I mean--you’re busy and this doesn’t really align with your lifestyle.”

He quirked an eyebrow, almost challenging you with a smirk. “And what do you know about my lifestyle?”

You picked up a spoon and stirred the coffee in front of you. “Well--I don’t know. I just, I don’t want you to feel like this means you’re, you know, trapped.”

He nodded, thinking. He licked his lips and pushed his mouth to one side. “I appreciate that.”

He asked where you were when you found out. You told him about the tiled floor of the bathroom at work, the way it cooled your hot skin when you were sure you’d pass out. You told him about the second test, the one you’d taken at home with Lexi, and the ice cream cone you had after you went to the doctor. 

He asked where you were from, said he’d never heard of Santa Paula. He told you that he had fun with you that night, said that he thought about calling you after you left, decided he didn’t want to scare you off. 

He drove you back to his house and pointed out the window, showing you a hiking trail nearby that he liked. He laughed when you made a joke--strapping a ten pound baby to your chest would level up any workout.

So you got your car and left, he didn’t hug you goodbye in the driveway and he said he’d call you--right after he figured out what he was going to tell his parents and his manager. You were about to the shut the door of your Honda when he jogged over to the driver’s side window. 

“When was that appointment again? With Dr. Westfield?”

“Weston,” you corrected. “Thursday, 4pm, I think.”

He nodded, his hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. “Okay--I’ll come.”

table of contents | talk to me + join the tag list

author’s note: woohooo! alright, well, there’s that!!!! so excited to share the rest with you all! 

tag list: @stepping-into-the-light @thurhomish @afterstylesmadeit @iconicharry @stylesfics-xx @harryspirate @mellamolayla @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfantasy @clorenafila @mell-love @anssu-amry @yelllowgrass @bullseyeskay @littlesoldierelleora @styles217 @rachkon @c-h-e-r-r-y-y @myhat  @rosegoldbel @passionate-dreamerr @grammyforstyles @dontgiveupthedayjob @ursamajor603 @craic-head-horan @heavenspidey @talk-british-2-me-britbritharry @blackxxmagicc @winter-soldier-007 @ssllbb @wanderlustiing @jdcharliewhiskey  

[lyrishadow]

Fictober 9:

Prompt 9: "There’s no right side to this.”

Fandom: Mass Effect

Title: You bind my wounds.

Pairing: Scott Ryder/Kaidan Alenko

Rating: T Warnings/Tags/notes: grief /fluff

"We came all this way and for what?" Scott was staring at the small group of turians as they packed their camp to relocate to the Nexus. Kaidan was sitting next to him carefully attending to yet another wound in his leg. Scott's body had taken a lot of punishment in the last few months, if it hadn't been for the Alliance gene mods that made him heal faster he would already need weeks of recovery. Yet those mods, Kaidan knew well, could not heal a broken heart.

"He proposed, you know, the day we were leaving. Promised we would make it here." Scott sighed numbly looking down "it's worse that I'm glad he didn't have to deal with this mess, to see people dead and dying, to watch me fail as I try and scrape the initiative's crap together."

"You're not alone Scott."

"I don't know." Scott sighed turning towards Kaidan, his hand reaching out to brush his arm "Sorry Kaidan, you have supported me, been there for me all the way. You constantly patch me up, but except for you…"

"The others are there too…"

"Liam is on a grand adventure to find his place. " Scott shook his head "I'm not mad at him for it but I think he forgets sometimes."

"Maybe so."

"Cora still compares me to Dad, even if she says she doesn't. She still thinks we need someone else to fix things instead of getting on with it ourselves."

"Your Dad knew that, he mentioned it at my interview," Kakdan replied as he wrapped the cut.

" Vetra has her own problems, trying to keep Sid out of trouble, and herself out of trouble. I think she is really apprehensive about whether this is a huge mistake or not."

Kaidan stood, placing a calming hand on Scott's arm.

"Kalo and Gil are at each other's throats. Suvi tends to.. lick.. rocks." Scott shook his head "neither Jaal nor Drack trust us."

"These things take time, Scott."

"That's just it. We don't have time. Time is running out for the other arks, and I really can't fathom what to do to find everyone a home," Scott's eyes glistened an his hands shook, the tell tale signs of someone close to breaking.

"What you have been doing. Look, I have some beer, want me to drop by later and we can talk." Kaidan gestured at their location.

"Yeah. I don't want to be alone tonight."

"You won't be," Kaidan replied softly.

"How's the leg?" Cora and Vetra chose that moment to join them, even though Scott had found his boyfriend's stasis pod when all of them had been there only Kaidan had twigged that his mood had changed,

"I will live." Scott huffed.

"I will head back to the tempest with him tonight, the rest of you can stay with the scientists." Kaidan suggested.

"Sounds good." Cora replied "we still have work to do."

"I wasn't sure you would come." Scott sighed "I sound like I'm 99 and complaining about my life."

"You're fine Scott." Kaida smiled, handing over one of very few cans of beer they had with them.

"Was it like this? The pain .. no I guess it hurt more, "

"There is no right side to this, that question of grief, you shouldn't compare it, your grief when it comes is as valid n real a none elses." Kaidan replied sitting down on the sofa.

"Yeah. Except… God… I'm worse." Scott turned away from Kaidan and sighed.

"You will have to explain, you know, I don't do any actual mind-reading." Kaidan prodded but Scott shook his head.

"My feelings had already changed, I was… am…already in love with someone else."

"So you are angry with yourself?"

"Yes."

"Do you think Tibernus would want you to be?"

"No. He said…" Scott's voice cracked a little "he said remember me but be happy, as if he knew."

"Scott, don't hold on to the guilt for too long. Tell me about this other person?" The question was designed to distract Scott from his misery but to Kaidan's surprise Scott looked a bit afraid, so Kaidan asked "Are they a good person? Would they agree with the guilt you seem to be adding to things?"

"They are the very best person." Scott exhaled, his eyes never leaving Kaidan "And no, he's not letting me stew in my guilt."

"Does he know how you feel?"

"I don't think so. I am scared." Scott sighed "what if…"

Kaidan stood moved towards the end of the sofa where Scott sat with his head in his hands.

"Scott?"

"Kaidan, I don't want to screw up our friendship." Scott murmured into his hands.

" I know."

"You probably think I'm a young kid who…" Scott sighed.

Kaidan reached forward and moved Scott's hands from his face.

"Scott, when they first woke me, told me I was assigned to the pathfinder team, and specifically to you, my heart sank. I already lost a home…when the Normandy was destroyed. I wasn't looking to replace that. "

"I'm sorry." Scott touched Kaidan’s arm with his hand, and Kaidan smiled as he caught it.

"I was hurting, lost, broken…. And even though I was meant to be doing first aid for you… you're the one who was healing me. I was falling for you and I knew about Tibernus, so I have tried to put my feelings aside. This whole time…"

"This whole time I was falling for you."

Kaidan kissed Scott on the forehead with a sigh only for Scott to pull him down as he went to move away into a proper kiss.

"Kaidan?"

"'I'm already staying the night." Kaidan chuckled, a sense of hope in the look he gave Scott "but let's take things slow for now. Let's get used to us. But Scott?"

"Hm?"

"I'm going to say this just once for now: I love you too."

[houseofhalation]

Am I attempting to write slice of life comedy because I’m depressed and having a hard time writing the three billion other things I have going on, despite never having written slice of life comedy ever at all in my entire life? Yeah.

Am I sticking my entire middle finger up at the canon as it stands and doing whatever I want? Also yeah.

Anyway enjoy the first part of this so far untitled thing. Lots of swearing, currently genderless MC, let’s all ignore the canon for a minute okay?

Monday mornings are extremely, unrelentingly, unquestionably cursed. Nothing good ever happens on a Monday. That’s how you know you’re utterly boned when your boss asks you to come in early for a private meeting. On a Monday.

Fuck. 

You haul yourself out of bed and wonder how much effort you should put into your appearance if you’re getting fired. Eventually you settle on not too much and crawl your way into the office, a prompt forty-five minutes before it’s actually meant to open. Most things are still dark. Your desk looks cold and neglected, and you wish you could have neglected it for just a bit longer. 

The bushy facial hair on your boss’s lips twitches in what is either a smile or a grimace when he sees you, and while you’re not sure which would be best to see at the moment, you think that it’s maybe not a grimace. You heave a sigh and follow him into his office, staring out his window into the still-sleeping city. 

He sits down behind his desk. 

You sit across from him, wondering if you should have brought a box or if your tote bag is big enough to carry everything out in. Regardless, it’s going to be a bitch to haul the contents of your desk home on the subway. 

He stares at you long enough that you start to wonder if you called the meeting. Then you remember that’s absurd. Isn’t it? It’s becoming abundantly clear that you shouldn’t have had that last glass of wine before going to bed. 

“We have a new client,” your boss says, and because you’re too busy wondering if your LinkedIn profile is up to date and considering his similarities to a walrus, you don’t immediately hear his words. They hit you like a brick wall.

“Okay,” you say because you’re not sure what else there is to say. 

“They’re out of the country,” he continues, looking more and more nervous. The last time he’s looked this nervous a prominent client went on a week-long bender and livestreamed most of it. Christ, that had been a mess to clean up and almost made you go on a bender of your own.

“You noted on your application that you wouldn’t mind relocating,” he says as if he can read your thoughts. “And you’re the only one in the firm without a family, so…”

It doesn’t sound like you’re being fired. 

“I’m not being fired?” You ask because you just have to be sure. Your boss blinks down at you and cements the walrus imagery in your mind forever. 

“Of course not,” he tells you. “They’ve requested someone to handle all of their online presence, and the firm determined that you would be the best fit.”

Most likely because as the newest hire, you’re lowest on the totem pole. Ugh.

“Now, you’ll be living on campus, so all of your accommodations will be taken care of. Nothing to worry about, really. The contract is indeterminate, so you’ll be there for…” your boss’s tongue peeks out to lick his lips and oh, shit, he’s super nervous. Not a good sign. “You’ll be there for as long as they need you to be,” he finally finishes. He slides a suspiciously slim manilla folder across his desk at you, narrowly missing one of his goofy little desk decorations as he does so. You flip it open and find a single page inside. 

Welcome to the Royal Academy of Diavolo! It proclaims proudly, right beside poorly-framed, blurry photographs of what you assume is a student, dressed up either for a theatre production or for a halloween event. Either way, not a super awesome first impression. You can’t even tell how old the student is supposed to be.

“Is this it?” You wave the single paper beside your head as if waiting for it to multiply magically. Your boss has the decency to look ashamed. “Can you tell me anything else about it?”

“It’s a school,” he says. 

“Right, but… College? University? Primary education? Public? ...Private?” Probably private, you determine with another glance at the name, and christ, is that comic sans? Your boss coughs lightly.

“It’s a school,” he says again, as if that in any way answers any of your questions. 

Fucking fantastic.

---

If you didn’t need the money so bad, you’d have tossed the sad excuse for a client profile in the trash. What the hell is your boss thinking, taking on this client? But you do need the money, so you go home and pack a few bags and look at your sad, shitty little apartment you sublet from your college roommate. They’ll be able to find someone new no problem, and you’re honestly not too sad to be saying goodbye to the shoebox. 

Sayo-fucking-nara. 

At least room and board is covered at your new gig at the mystery school.

---

You agreed to meet at the train station because that’s a public place with plenty of security cameras and witnesses, and honestly, if you’re going to get murdered for this job you want your kidnapping to be recorded, at the very least. You don’t know if your chauffeur is going to be holding a little sign with your name on it like in the movies or not, but you think probably not. You scan the crowd for someone who looks like they're from the Royal Academy of Whevever-the-hell and give up after an hour of sitting on the hard wooden bench provided for poor schmucks like you. 

The whole thing is probably a joke. Ha, ha. Very fucking funny, let’s haze the new employee. A lawsuit sounds like the perfect way to round out your Monday morning. 

Irritated at a brand new level, you haul your bags into the bathroom after you, fully intending to splash some water on your face. If you didn’t think they’d get stolen, you’d have left them behind on the bench. But seeing as how just about every earthly possession you have is within them, you’re not too keen on the idea.

So they follow you into the pitch-black void that is meant to be the restroom, which really, is just another cherry on the shit sundae that has become your morning. You’re tired, in the last place you want to be right now, chasing after some stupid-sounding client that probably doesn’t exist, and now the electricity is on the fritz.

Perfect.

Awesome.

Two enthusiastic thumbs up. 

You swallow a growl and fling out your arm, fully intending to find the wall and, hopefully, the lightswitch. You don’t find anything at all, just more black void, and why the hell aren’t your eyes adjusting so you take a mincing step forward. And then another. 

And another, just for good measure, which turns out to be the wrong decision, all things considered. You go hurtling forward and just before you make impact, all you can think is they’d better have cleaned this godforsaken floor sometime this decade before you smash against flagstone.

Not the tile you’d been expecting. 

What?

Your phone skitters out of your hands and you hear something on it snap with a sick, twisting feeling in your stomach. That sounded expensive and you don’t relish trying to get it fixed on a budget. Not to mention that you’re… somewhere and without a means of communication. 

“Oh!” Someone exclaims from above you just as you become aware that you can see. Kind of. The lights are still dim, but the moon gleaming in from the huge windows provides at least a little light to see by.

Wait.

Windows?

“You’re early,” the voice says, interrupting your stalled-out train of thought. Hands reach down and pick up your bags, and then help you to your feet. You allow them to because this has to be a dream. You’ve not woken up just yet, surely, and any minute now you will, and you’re going to get fired like you thought you were going to be. This is just a stress dream. A weird one.

“Sorry about that; we didn’t expect you for a few more minutes. Things were still being prepared.”

Or you’re dead. You’ve died in your sleep of an aneurysm or something and this is your brain’s last dying gasps as it tries to make sense of all your misfiring neurons or whatever. It’s been a long time since freshman biology class. 

“Either way, let me be the first to introduce you to both the Royal Academy of Diavolo and the Devildom!”

You stare dumbly up at the huge mountain of a man, dressed in what looks absurdly like a red military uniform. He smiles widely at you, eyes crinkled up in expressions of pure joy like you’re not dying or stuck in a fever dream. You pinch yourself hard on your arm.

Son of a bitch, it hurts.

Which means it’s high time your brain catches up and tries to process all of the words that have been spoken at you. A herculean task, really, because they don’t make a lick of sense and now that you think about it, maybe you hit your head when you tripped in the dark. Yeah. That would make sense. You’ve got a concussion, probably. Those come with hallucinations, right? You have no idea how concussions work, but that doesn’t stop you from deciding you have one.

“This… is not the bathroom,” you announce. 

[hysterialevi]

His Name Was Isaac - Ch. 3

Fanfic summary: During a mission to avenge his mother’s death, Isaac hunts down the men responsible for her murder and kills them off one-by-one, only to discover that his last target is taking refuge among the Van der Linde gang. In an attempt to kill them, Isaac attacks the gang and unknowingly becomes enemies with his own father, who is in the process of fighting his own battle for redemption.

Point of view: third-person

Previous chapter | Next chapter

This story is also on AO3

ONE WEEK LATER

OUTSKIRTS OF BLACKWATER

Steadily moving his line of sight just along the distant horizon, Shay Mackintosh kept a close eye on the bank in Blackwater as a number of customers went in and out, completely oblivious to the gang that lurked no more than a stone’s throw away from them.

At the moment, the town seemed pretty calm. Normal. Ordinary. Not nearly as hostile as the last time Shay set foot there. That must’ve meant that the people had either grown too comfortable with their lives, or that there was someone else guarding the perimeter for them. And considering the rumors of Pinkertons roaming around Tall Trees, Shay assumed it was the latter.

...Dammit, he mentally cursed to himself. 

The last thing the Van der Lindes needed to worry about right now were Pinkertons. Dutch was already close to losing his mind as it was, and with the Skinner Brothers’ growing presence in West Elizabeth, Shay doubted the man would be calming down anytime soon.

If federal agents started going after them... well, he didn’t even wanna think about the chaos they’d cause.

Though... this could’ve been a blessing in disguise, depending on how one looked at it. As money-hungry as their gang was, Shay could see that everyone was anxious to get out of West Elizabeth and move on somewhere safer. Somewhere that didn’t have lawmen or rival gangs prowling around every corner.

A few of the other members had already expressed their concerns surrounding the upcoming robbery in Blackwater, and with the presence of Pinkertons now being an issue, Shay expected there would be even more infighting back at their hideout.

If too many threats presented themselves at the same time... perhaps Dutch would finally see sense and agree to relocate their camp. 

But... then again, that could’ve just been wishful thinking on Shay’s part. Dutch was known for his stubbornness, after all, and Mackintosh couldn’t remember the last time their leader ever swayed his mind about something without raising hell about it first.

If he truly had his mind set on robbing this godforsaken bank, then... Shay supposed that was what they’d do. Dutch was the boss in the end of the day, and his word was practically law.

It didn’t mean Shay wasn’t worried, though. 

“Mackintosh...!” A man’s voice suddenly called out from behind, cutting off Shay’s train of thought. 

The outlaw whipped around in alarm and instantly reached for his pistol, only to come to a halt once he saw who it was.

“Jesus, Arthur...!” he whispered in a startled tone. “I nearly blew your goddamn head off. Thought you was one of them Skinner boys.”

The older man chuckled, crouching down so that he was at the same level as Shay.

“I’ll try not to take that as an insult. What’re you doin’ out here?”

Mackintosh returned to his binoculars, focusing the lenses. “Dutch asked me to scout the place out before we move in. He wanted to know what we’re dealin’ with.”

Arthur leaned closer to Shay and squinted his eyes, trying to follow the man’s gaze. “...And? You see anything worth noting? How many guards are at that bank?”

“Well... I’ve counted about a dozen so far, though there could be more I’m not seeing. They switch every once in a while, but it ain’t often. Not many openings for us to charge in.” 

Shay lowered his binoculars for a second, turning to face Arthur. “...I won’t lie to you, Morgan. It’s gonna be difficult to rob this bank. The whole thing’s under heavy guard, and there are Pinkertons wanderin’ in the streets now. It’d be a huge risk to grab this score, even with all our men.”

The other man held his hand out. “Here. Lemme take a look.”

Passing the device over to Arthur, Shay patiently stood by as the man thoroughly scanned the area, picking up every detail he possibly could.

“Yeah...” Arthur muttered worriedly, “...security’s gotten real tight in Blackwater, that’s for sure.”

“And you still think it’s a good idea to hit this town?” Shay questioned.

“It don’t matter what I think,” Morgan replied. “It ain’t up to me.”

“No, but I imagine you still have a mind of your own, don’t you? As well as your own concerns.”

The older man gave him a cautionary side glance. “It sounds like you’ve got some, Mackintosh. Care to share?”

Shay sighed in a defeated manner. “Look, I know Dutch thinks this’ll be a easy score since Blackwater’s such a small town, but small doesn’t always mean easy. It just means more concentrated. I mean, look at this place.”

He gestured to the settlement in front of them. “Blackwater’s essentially one, giant square. All the buildings are more-or-less in the same area, and it ain’t nearly as convoluted as the other cities we’ve hit. There are fewer blind spots to worry about. Fewer entrances to keep an eye on. Fewer places for us to hide if things go south. And there’s also the fact that Pinkertons have been seen in Tall Trees. If this plan goes awry--”

“--It won’t.” Arthur interrupted.

“...If it does,” Shay reiterated, “we’ll be dead men. The law will have no problems cagin’ us in, and we’ll be hanged on the spot.”

As much as Arthur hated to admit it, the man had a point. Blackwater wasn’t exactly the ideal place for an outlaw to be right now, and with all the threats surrounding them in this area, he couldn’t deny that he thought they might’ve been better off staying the hell away from this town.

But even then, his thoughts were irrelevant. No matter what his opinions were, it was Dutch who always had the final say, and Arthur knew damn well that a few lawmen strolling about wouldn’t be enough to scare the old man off.

If they were going to convince Dutch to leave Blackwater alone, they’d need one hell of a good reason. And at the moment, Arthur couldn’t think of one.

“Look,” Arthur said, keeping his voice down, “I hear you, Shay. But like I said before, it ain’t my choice whether we stick around or not. That’s Dutch’s decision.”

Shay persisted. “Well, yeah, but you’re the only one he actually listens to. That’s why I’m tellin’ you this, Morgan. If you speak with Dutch, he might see where we’re coming from.”

Arthur put the binoculars down. “And if he doesn’t, we risk being accused of being traitors.”

Mackintosh quirked a brow. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“That’s how Dutch’s mind works now,” Morgan explained. “I dunno if you’ve noticed, but he’s a paranoid mess these days. He values loyalty above everything else in this world, and in his head, loyalty means you don’t question anything he does. If I bring up our concerns about this robbery and Dutch doesn’t see reason, he’ll lose all his faith in us. I’ve seen previous gang members get shot over less.”

Shay’s expression froze with shock. “Jesus. I knew Dutch was unstable, but that’s downright lunacy.”

Arthur sighed in frustration. “He ain’t a lunatic. He’s just...” he trailed off, unable to find the right words. “...look, forget it. Let’s just get back to camp. I’m sure Dutch is waiting to hear what we’ve found.”

Shay took his binoculars back, sliding them into his satchel. “And then you’ll have a word with him?”

The other man rose to his feet, nodding in response. “I’ll... I’ll see what I can do. I ain’t gonna promise anything, but I’ll try to make him see reason.”

Mackintosh followed Arthur’s actions and returned to his horse, preparing to head back to camp. “Thank you, Arthur. That’s all I ask. Lots of folk are nervous about this robbery, and I wouldn’t wanna see half our gang get wiped out all because of one mistake.”

Arthur thought back to the ferry job they did eight years ago, not even bothering to point out the extreme irony in Shay’s statement.

“...No,” he settled for, sounding much more regretful than before. “We wouldn’t.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A LITTLE LATER

AURORA BASIN

Opening the door to Dutch’s cabin, Arthur and Shay both sauntered into the cold living room as the smell of lingering smoke smacked them in the face, causing the latter to let out a series of coughs.

At the moment, Dutch was mindlessly chewing on the tip of a freshly-lit pipe and steadily pacing around the room, allowing him to think more intently as he listened to Micah prattle on about some nonsense.

It looked like the other man had just returned from his own journey, judging by the heavy satchel slung over his shoulder. There didn’t seem to be much in it other than a few dead rabbits, and considering the fact that there was still some blood on Micah’s glove, Arthur assumed the man had been out hunting.

About time he did something useful, Arthur thought. The man rarely ever lifted a finger around camp other than to swat flies, and when he wasn’t irritating the hell out of the other gang members, he was back in this cabin, doing whatever he could to lick Dutch’s boots. Though, this time... the tone of Micah’s voice suggested he may have been here for another reason.

“Shay! Arthur!” Dutch barked once his gaze landed on the two new guests in his cabin. “You’re back. What did you learn?”

“The bank’s locked up tight, Dutch,” Mackintosh answered, stepping closer to him. “We counted about a dozen guards standing outside of it, and I also spotted some new security measures while we was there. They’ve got more walls. More gates. More places to trap us if we ain’t careful. This is gonna be a risky job no matter how many people we bring.”

The older man didn’t seem pleased. “Well, that’s good to know, but I thought I told you to be discreet.”

Shay blinked in confusion. “We... were. We didn’t set a single foot in Blackwater and scouted it from the outskirts. Just like you said.”

“Oh, is that so? Then why is it that there’s someone in town looking for us?”

Arthur jumped in, his interest now piqued. “Wait, there is?”

Dutch gestured to Micah. “Yeah, Micah saw him. He was just telling me about it before you boys walked in. Said he spotted them in the saloon.”

The other man nodded casually. “Sure did. It was a young man. About this tall. Blonde. I didn’t catch his name, but he was askin’ all sorts of folk if they knew who the Van der Lindes were. Also if they knew Dutch. He seemed pretty determined to find us. Luckily, he didn’t notice me.”

Arthur rubbed his chin, suddenly feeling a lot less confident about bringing up his concerns to Dutch. “...Shit. Was he a lawman?”

Micah shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. He didn’t look like one. Didn’t have no shiny badge neither. My guess is he’s a bounty hunter.”

Shay furrowed his brows. “A single bounty hunter tracking us down all by himself? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Arthur took on a more cautionary tone. “Who says he’s by himself? You’d have to be a fool to fight a gang on your own. It’s most-likely he’s got more friends that we haven’t seen yet.”

Micah shrugged. “That, or he doesn’t realize how close he is to us. Probably thinks he’s still got a ways to go before worryin’ about any sort of fighting. After all, no one expects to find what’s right under their nose.”

Mackintosh changed the subject. “Either way, if this man’s asking questions all around town, he’s gonna draw attention to us. We need to deal with him before anyone else takes an interest.”

“He’s right,” Arthur agreed, turning to Dutch. “You want us to deal with him, Dutch? We can go back to Blackwater. Take him out right now.”

“No.” The man responded, causing all three of them to fall silent.

“...No?” Micah asked, significantly more concerned now. “But if we don’t kill him now, he’s bound to find our camp later.”

Dutch grinned deviously at that. “Exactly. It’s too risky for us to attack him when he’s in the heart of civilization. There are too many obstacles. Too many guards. Too many people. So, instead... I say we let him find us. We’ll play along, let him think that we don’t know what he’s doing, and when he finally comes waltzing into the lion’s den -- that’s when we’ll strike.”

“But what if he’s not alone?” Arthur pointed out. “We’ll have an entire group of bounty hunters right on our doorstep.”

“Then we fight.” Dutch said plainly. “We have enough men to deal with a few guns. We’ll be alright. For now, though, just stay focused on the bank. I don’t want any of you worrying about no bounty hunters unless we have to. Understand?”

The three of them exchanged looks for a moment, ultimately deciding that it wasn’t worth an argument.

“Of course, Dutch,” Micah finally complied. “You’re the boss.”

The older man appeared satisfied with that answer. “Good. Now get back to work. All of you. This bank ain’t gonna open itself.”

Ending the conversation there, Dutch put his smoking pipe away and gave a simple wave of the hand, signaling for everyone to return to their lives while he wandered back to his rocking chair.

Shay and Micah were already halfway out the front door by the time Dutch took a seat, but as always, Arthur remained the odd one out and stayed in place, pondering what he should do next.

Unbeknownst to him however, he wasn’t the only one thinking.

“...I know that look, Arthur.” Dutch remarked, his back turned to him. “I’ve known it for the past eight years. There’s somethin’ you wanna say, isn’t there?”

The younger outlaw hesitated for a second, unsure of whether he should tell the truth.

“...Yeah...” he grumbled out, “but you ain’t gonna like it.”

Dutch chuckled. “Try me.”

Walking up to Dutch, Arthur took a while to gather his thoughts before joining the other man’s side, stopping to lean against a nearby table. He still wasn’t entirely certain if he wanted to express his true thoughts to his friend, but deep down, Arthur knew that what Mackintosh said at Blackwater had merit in it.

“...I think we should leave Blackwater alone.” Arthur admitted at last, earning a puzzled look from Dutch.

The older outlaw paused for a moment, wrapping his head around what the other just said.

“Leave Blackwater... alone?” He repeated, clearly not on board with the idea.

“It’s too risky, Dutch. We don’t even know if the bank is worth it. We’ve got no idea how much cash is really bein’ held in that vault, and on top of that, there’s a shit ton of guards patrolling the area. You heard Shay back there. They’ll shoot us down before we even reach the building.”

 “Which probably means there’s a lot of money just sittin’ in there waiting to be stolen! Why else would the security be so tight?”

Arthur knew he was going to say that. “And what about these Pinkertons? We’ve all heard the rumors. They’ve been seen in Tall Trees, Dutch. That’s right outside our camp! All they have to do is take one wrong step, and they’ll be on top of us before we know it. We have to leave now. We don’t want a repeat of what happened in Blackwater eight years ago. You remember the chaos that led to?”

Dutch sighed. “Of course I do. But we won’t make that mistake again. This time, we’ll be better prepared.”

The younger man held his hands out in a perplexed manner. “How? We have even fewer men than we did for the ferry job, and the bounty on our heads is bigger than ever. How are our chances gonna be any higher for this score?”

“Because we have you now.” Dutch said. “You wasn’t with us for the ferry job, and neither was Hosea. And look how that turned out.” 

He stood up from his chair and placed a reassuring hand on Arthur’s shoulder, looking him in the eye. “But we have your help this time. Hosea may not be with us anymore, but I know for a fact you wouldn’t let me down, son. I have no doubts that this job’ll go just fine.”

Arthur saw right through the flattery and put his hands on his hips, completely at a loss for words.

There was nothing he could say or do that would convince Dutch to leave Blackwater, was there? The man was entirely obsessed with the city by now, and Arthur knew that at the heart of it, none of this really had anything to do with the money in the first place. It was purely about Dutch’s pride.

He knew that Dutch still hadn’t gotten over what happened to them all those years ago, and he knew that the old man wouldn’t take his eyes off this town until he managed to pull off a successful score. 

He was falling victim to his own insanity, and Arthur had no other choice but to try and pull him away from the edge. It was one hell of a risky move to make, but he decided it’d be worth it.

Arthur let out a remorseful breath and lowered his head, almost whispering his next words.

“...You’re losin’ yourself, Dutch.” He said vehemently. “I can see it everyday. More and more of the old you is just... vanishing.”

The older outlaw appeared taken aback by the abrupt notion and narrowed his eyes, almost looking offended.

“Losing myself?” He replied, his voice dangerously calm. “...How so?”

Arthur gestured vaguely at the room around them. “Look at what we’re doing, Dutch. How many men have we lost just tryin’ to reach Blackwater? Not to mention actually stealing from it. Our gang is dyin’ out here. This area’s too dangerous for the likes of us, and yet... we won’t leave. You won’t leave. The Dutch I know would’ve packed his bags long ago.”

The other man fell silent at that and tightened his lips, making an expression that said Arthur had just crossed the line.

“You think I’m losin’ myself.” Dutch parroted once again, his tone completely flat. “You think... I’m... losing. Myself.”

He took a few steps away from Arthur and began pacing around the room, chuckling to himself in a heartbroken manner.

“...Hosea is dead, Arthur,” Dutch stated, sounding more feral with every passing second. “John is a traitor. My health is deteriorating, we have the law on our tail, and now, the only son I have left thinks I’ve gone crazy--”

The tyrannical man brought his gaze back to Arthur, his eyes wide open with madness.

“Of course, I’m losing myself, Arthur! Wouldn’t you? This world... has gone to shit! Civilization has no room for folk like us, and even within our own world of murderers, thieves, and rapists -- we are still tearing ourselves apart! I have sacrificed everything to keep this gang afloat, even when we went through hell! You are my family, Arthur. You, Hosea, John, Miss Grimshaw... you were all my family. But just like the rest of them, you’re startin’ to lose faith in me too!”

Dutch pulled his revolver out, blatantly aiming the weapon at Arthur.

“Are you gonna leave me, Arthur? You gonna turn your back on me and leave me to the goddamn wolves, just like the rest of them? Are you a snake?”

Arthur held his hands up, absolutely bewildered by Dutch’s deranged response.

“What? No! I’m right here, Dutch. I ain’t gonna leave you.”

“That’s what they all said,” the older man dismissed, evidently unconvinced. “That’s what they all tried to tell me. But when it really mattered, they all--”

Coming to an abrupt halt, Dutch’s words were cut off when he was suddenly struck by a coughing fit, causing him to drop his gun as his entire body heaved uncontrollably.

“Dutch!” Arthur exclaimed out of concern, rushing over to him.

The man continued to cough aggressively and hurriedly searched for his chair, desperately wanting to sit down as he leaned on Arthur for support.

“Easy, Dutch...” he comforted, helping the man into his seat. “Just... take it easy.”

Setting Dutch down, Arthur kept a firm grip on him until he was sure he wouldn’t keel over and stood patiently at his side, waiting until the man’s coughing fit calmed down.

“You okay there, old man?” He asked. Dutch coughed a few more times, eventually hacking up some blood before spitting it on the floor.

Arthur eyed the blood with a worried glance, trying to hide how frightened he truly was about the man’s health.

“Jesus...” he murmured. “Dutch, I’m sorry--”

“--Don’t.” The other man interrupted, wiping his mouth clean. “I don’t want no pity.”

Finally back to his normal state, Dutch let out a deep sigh and leaned back in his chair, clearly worn out from the havoc his own body just put him through. His skin was much paler now, and just by listening to the shaky rhythm of his breath, Arthur could tell he was getting weaker and weaker by the minute. 

It wouldn’t be that long now before he was at Hosea’s side again. The only doctor who could’ve possibly given Dutch some sort of treatment was all the way in Blackwater, and even if they somehow managed to sneak him past all the law, Arthur doubted there was anything they could do to save him.

Dutch’s life was quite literally slipping out of his grasp these days, and much like everything else they had lost in the past few years, there was no way they could get it back. 

Even with Arthur at his side.

“...R’you gonna be okay, Dutch?” Morgan asked solemnly, despite the obvious answer.

The outlaw shook his head, throwing a glare at him. “What d’you think?”

Arthur’s shoulders slouched in despondency. “I know, I know. Stupid question. I just...”

He cleared his throat, deciding to drop the subject. “...Never mind. Forget I said anything. Just... take care of yourself, alright? None of us wanna see you go too soon.”

Dutch nodded in response, admittedly curious about what Arthur was going to say.

“I’ll try, son.” He reassured, his voice much softer now. “You know me. I was born to be an outlaw. All the way to the end. And I intend to go out like one.”

~~~~~~~~~~

ONE HOUR LATER

BLACKWATER SALOON

Humming quietly to himself, Isaac relaxed on the edge of his bed as he gently cleaned the Springfield rifle in his grasp, preparing for the storm ahead. It had taken him nearly three months to get to where he was now, but after all the traveling and searching and questioning... he was finally close to reaching the Van der Linde gang. And to killing Shay Mackintosh.

It was strange, Isaac found, to think about everything he had been through these past fifteen years. At the start of this hurricane, he was nothing more than a boy merely trying to survive with the men who killed his mother, but now... he was the one delivering them to Hell’s gate.

He knew it probably meant nothing to the people around him -- and some might’ve even considered him crazy for pursuing revenge for so long, but ever since Eliza’s death -- Isaac had had this sense of hatred burning inside him that he just... couldn’t let go.

It was always there. No matter what he did. Even when he smiled, or laughed, or cried... he could feel it growing within him like a parasite.

There were some days when Isaac managed to go from dawn to dusk without a single thought of what happened to him, but late at night, when he’d delve into his dreams, the same nightmare would come back every single time to haunt him, and he’d see her face again. Hear her final words. Her final breath. And the next morning... he’d have a gun in his hand, ready to hunt down the men responsible for her suffering.

It was agonizing sometimes, to deal with such a unique rage. Isaac wanted nothing more than to settle down somewhere and live a normal life, but every time his memories reminded him of the horrific murder, he’d feel the same hatred growing inside him again and set out on his journey for vengeance, craving the blood of those who wronged him.

Perhaps that made him a monster in some people’s eyes. Isaac recalled Minister Swanson mentioning that he saw something darker in the boy’s heart, but to him, this was the only path that made sense.

There was no justice out in the Wild West, after all. You were either the victim, or the victor. If Isaac didn’t go after Mackintosh himself, Lord knew that no one else would. And on top of that, he figured his mother deserved to rest in peace after fifteen years of watching her killers wander freely.

It was what Eliza would’ve wanted, Isaac imagined, and he wasn’t going to forget it.

Sighing in discontent, Isaac set the rifle down and stared aimlessly at the window in front of him, admittedly feeling somewhat torn about these upcoming weeks.

What was he going to do when he found Mackintosh? What was he going to say? Would the man even recognize him after all these years? Would Isaac recognize Shay?

Well, whatever happened, one thing was clear. Mackintosh had to die. However or whenever that came to be, Isaac didn’t care. The only thing that concerned him was landing the killing blow.

Mackintosh was the one who pulled the trigger when Eliza died, so Isaac only deemed it fitting that he’d be the one bring it into a full circle.

He may’ve not had any family left, but by God was he going to avenge them.

Interrupting Isaac’s thoughts, a knock suddenly came from the door and averted the young man’s attention, causing him to stand up from the bed.

“Just a moment!” He called out, quickly slipping into his coat before striding to the entrance.

Swinging the door open, Isaac found himself face-to-face with a rugged-looking man. He had graying blond hair, a horseshoe mustache, cold-blue eyes, and a special kind of demeanor to him that shouted “degenerate.”

The visitor threw a casual wave at him, clearly not realizing what sort of impression he gave off.

“Hey there, cowpoke,” he greeted, his tone oozing with connivance. “...Mind if we talk for a minute?”

Isaac subtly kept a hand on his pistol, trying to conceal his mistrust. “That depends. Who are you? What d’you want?”

The man chuckled. “Suspicious one, ain’t you? Have no fear...” he held his hands up, “I ain’t here for that. In fact, I’m here to help you.”

That didn’t make Isaac feel any better. “That so? Well then, why don’t you answer my first question? Who are you?”

He placed an introductory hand on his chest. “Relax, princess. The name’s Micah. As for what I want, well... I couldn’t help but overhear your conversations with some of the folk downstairs, and it sounds to me like you’re lookin’ for the Van der Linde gang. Am I right?”

Isaac nodded slowly. “...Yeah. Why? You have information on them?”

Micah smirked. “More than you think. And I’m willin’ to share some of it...” He held up a finger. “For a price, of course.”

The young man wasn’t even surprised. “Of course. And how much are you willing to share?”

Micah shrugged. “That depends on how much you’re paying. Information like this don’t come cheap, boy. If you want somethin’ good, you’ll have to pay good money.”

Isaac was still hesitant to accept the deal. “Makes sense, but how do I know your information’s legitimate? Anyone can claim they know about the Van der Linde gang.”

The outlaw grinned and crossed his arms. “Aren’t you a smart cookie. Well... what if I told you I was one of them?”

The boy froze, uncertain of whether he should take the man seriously. “...You’re just pullin’ my leg now. Why the hell would a Van der Linde talk to me if they knew I was lookin’ for them? How does this benefit you?”

Micah sighed in a melodramatic tone. “It pains me to say it, but our current leader, Dutch van der Linde... let’s just say he ain’t doin’ too good.”

“Speak plainly,” Isaac said. “What d’you mean?”

“He’s ill.” Micah explained. “With what, we don’t know. But he’s withering away with each passing day, and it don’t look like there’s much chance of him getting better. Thing is, though...” he leaned on the doorframe, “he has yet to clarify who’s gonna take his place once he’s gone. And at the moment, he’s got two people in mind. One of ‘em being me.”

It didn’t take long for Isaac to catch on. “So, you want me to get rid of your competition?”

Micah shook his head. “Not yet. First, I wanna see what you’re capable of. I’ll give you the information you need, see if you actually manage to find us, and then I’ll know whether you’re just some yellow-bellied pretty boy, or if you really know how to handle that rifle. Then, we can move on to... other business.”

Isaac considered the offer, admittedly still somewhat hesitant to do business with this man.

As strange as it may’ve seemed, Micah actually sounded like he was being genuine. He spoke about the Van der Lindes as if he actually knew them, and his information had been pretty specific so far. 

The only part that confused Isaac was why he would be so willing to endanger his fellow gang members. It was widely-known that outlaws weren’t the type to practice camaraderie -- Isaac had seen that for himself -- but even this was a new low.

Still, it wasn’t his concern what the Van der Lindes were up to. As long as Micah’s information got him closer to Mackintosh, nothing else truly mattered.

“...Alright,” Isaac finally agreed. “I’ll buy your information, Micah.”

The outlaw smiled slyly. “Glad to hear it. How much you paying?”

The young man quickly thought of an offer. “...Fifteen bucks.”

Micah looked impressed. “Good, but not good enough. How’s about we bump it up to twenty?”

“Seventeen.”

“Eighteen.”

Isaac settled with that. “Done.”

Micah shook his hand, a little too happy about where this was going. 

“Pleasure doin’ business with you, mister. I promise... you won’t regret this.”

[stefciastark]

Stuck Under A Building ~ Webpril Day 4

A/N: Peter begins to dig his way out with the help of Tony, who hopes like hell F.R.I.D.A.Y hasn't miscalculated anything. Otherwise, both Peter and Ned's lives may be at stake.

~Read on AO3

~Read on FFN

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The dust had already settled by the time Peter returned to consciousness. Not yet ready to open his eyes, he instead took mental inventory of each of his limbs, and he had to swallow back his panic when he couldn’t move his right leg without white hot pain licking its way up to his knee. In that moment, he made the decision to force his eyes open, hoping like hell that he wouldn’t be greeted with some sort of compound fracture or something else disgusting. Peter considered himself anything but squeamish, but he’d seen more than his fair share of gruesome injuries that he could very much do without at that very moment.

He found the offending object quickly; a large boulder the size of a washing machine – yet at least twice as heavy – sandwiched from halfway up his shin to his ankle. Mentally counting to three, he braced himself for the pain as he gave his leg another tug. He groaned through clenched teeth, clenching his eyes shut at the feeling of bone grinding on bone. Yep, definitely broken.

There was also a secondary problem he had just identified – the surrounding rocks had shifted in response to the movement of the one pinning him down. Peter watched with bated breath as a few stones the shape and size of watermelons tumbled down from the top of the pile and narrowly missed Ned, who still lay unconscious and prone on the ground beside him. His backpack lay just behind Ned, situated near what remained of the steel support pillar. If Peter remembered correctly, that meant that they were stuck in the middle-left portion of the cave. If he could get to the suit, he could get to help.

This would be the most high-stakes game of Pick-Up Sticks he’d ever played.

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Tony had received a notification about Peter’s suit, and as much as he’d later hate to admit it, he had passed it off as unimportant as it initially came through his systems. Tony was in the process of finalising the last of the data transfers to his new lab in the Avengers headquarters that had been relocated to upstate New York. Terabytes didn’t even begin to cover the quantity of files he had left to integrate into the new systems, but he had to start somewhere. 

The hard drive had now begun to transfer the new blueprints for the latest Spiderman suit upgrades Tony had started prototyping. Peter was a keen kid; he was passionate and excitable, but frankly the sheer amount of voice messages he left was bordering on a violation of privacy. As Tony scrolled through the massive folder on Peter’s latest web-formulas he’d devised, the regular ‘Peter’ blip that appeared on his radar had suddenly faded into nothing, prompting advisory from F.R.I.D.A.Y. 

According to his A.I, Peter’s whereabouts had last been defined as being circa upstate New Jersey, close to - if not within - the Sterling Hill Mining Museum. F.R.I.D.A.Y further informed Tony that that particular area sat right near the Ramapo fault line, where seismic activity had recently been detected. 

Without hesitation, Tony set each foot in front of him deliberately, finally shrouding himself in his latest nanotech development: The Mark…whatever the hell. It was fast approaching the seventies and Tony had long since lost count. 

The built-in stabilisers in the suit prevented Tony from feeling the G-Force he would otherwise be subject to as he catapulted towards northern New Jersey. He’d asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to inform him if any changes occurred regarding Peter’s whereabouts, however his radar remained silent apart from where the calculations told him Peter’s last known location was. 

Completely removed now from the dense concrete jungle, Tony reached his final destination just outside of the Mining Museum. It may have been a long shot, but there was no way in hell Tony was leaving a single stone unturned.

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Peter had nearly managed to sling his pinkie finger around the inside of his mask that was sitting inconveniently just past the middle of his backpack. If Ned’s life hadn’t been at a perpetual state of risk from a catastrophic cave in, Peter would have simply yanked his leg free long ago and dealt with whatever consequence, but when it was a life other than his own, he found himself unable to act irresponsibly, instead finding himself performing ‘babysitter’ duties whilst pinned underneath a rock half the size of his apartment fridge. 

Simultaneously extending his left arm once more as he gently shifted his leg just a fraction from beneath the boulder, he silently cheered as he managed to get a concrete hold on his mask. If anything, if he were lucky, he would be able to contact Mr Stark and work on getting them both out of here. 

Pulling the mask over his face, he heard Karen’s calming voice as whatever systems were available initialised. He assumed he had a concussion at that point, as barely anything she said was properly registering for him, and simply went in one ear and out of the other.

“Communications are now online,” Karen hummed, and Peter sighed with relief. What he didn’t expect, however, was the almost instantaneous interception of Mr Stark’s voice through the comms. 

“I leave you alone for five minutes...what the hell happened, kid?” 

Peter grinned from within the mask. He knew he was safe. Tony Stark had come to get him, and everything would be alright. Ned would be left unscathed and before he knew it, it’d all be a distant memory. “We were on a field trip, and all the rocks were really cool, and then suddenly the ground started shaking, the cave collapsed, and now I’m stuck in here with Ned who’s unconscious, by the way, and - “ 

“Take a breather, kid. Just sit back for a minute, F.R.I.D.A.Y’s pulling up a map of the mine. We’ll get you out of there, try not to move too much, okay?” Tony’s eyes shifted over the heads-up display, taking in the various patterns of disarray with Peter and Ned laying in the epicentre. He narrowed his eyes as progressively more shapes on the close-proximity radar turned a bright shade of red. These boulders couldn’t be moved unless Peter wanted to put the lives of himself and Ned in immediate danger. It was time to change games and play Tetris, but this time lives were at stake. 

“I need you to listen to me, Peter. There’s a rock to your right. Do you see it? I need you to wedge that just under where that boulder on your leg is sitting.” 

Peter wasn’t about to question how Tony had gotten there in such a short amount of time, or how he knew about the offending boulder atop his ankle. Following Tony’s instructions, he shifted the stone next to him, and was able to use it like an ‘a la natural’ forklift to shift the stone from above him. He pulled his leg out as fast as he could in the fear that the rocks above him would crash down upon him - but this time more catastrophically. Ned still hadn’t come to, and Peter was becoming increasingly concerned for his friend’s wellbeing. “Okay Mr Stark, I’m out. But Ned, he’s still not waking up, I don’t know what - “ 

“One thing at a time. Now, I want you to -”

Peter didn’t register what was being said to him, instead taken over by the sheer sense of dread as he fully realised the proximity of the rocks sitting around him, trapping him on all sides. As if that weren’t a big enough concern, one millimetre of uncalculated movement could cause a cataclysmic cave in that - if Peter lived - he didn’t want on his conscience. 

F.R.I.D.A.Y displayed the increased pace of Peter’s heart rate, and the decreased oxygen saturation in his blood. Shit. “Peter, I need you to listen to me. You can panic when this is over, believe me, but right now you need to get out. There’s a small rock to your left that’s shaped like the Kmart version of Cap’s shield. Nudge that out of the way for me.” 

Crushing his fear down as far as he could, Peter rapidly identified the frisbee-shaped stone diagonally to his right. “B-but Mr Stark, that’s right underneath a massive pile of rocks…” 

“Think of this like…” Tony rummaged in his brain for a moment, warring with the part of him that craved a blunt and harsh approach to the situation. He knew that would only cause Peter to stress more than he already was, so he opted for the approach that was as calm and collected as he could muster despite the situation. “What’s that game you showed me last week, kid? The one with the wooden blocks?” 

“Jenga?”

“That’s the one. Sometimes stuff’s gotta fall down before you can stack it up again. Don’t worry, F.R.I.D.A.Y’s got your back.” Tony worried at his bottom lip, hoping like hell F.R.I.D.A.Y hadn’t made some critical mistake in her calculations. He was purely relying on her to get Peter out of there. From where he was standing in the sole connecting tunnel that would lead to freedom, all he could see was rocks, rocks, and more goddamn rocks. As much as he would love to tear them from where they were positioned to get to the kid - his kid - he knew that any rash mistake on his part would end with more than one life haunting him until the day he died. 

And so a game of Jenga they played, Peter pulling stones from one location and sliding them to become the new support structures for other smaller micro-towers. The space around him began to expand, and with it, Peter felt as if there were more breathable oxygen seeping in through the cracks between the stones, and he wasn’t sure if he was imagining a gust of wind blustering in from where he guessed the tunnel’s entrance was. He had no idea how long they’d been reshuffling the contents of the cave, but Peter could almost stand completely upright and walk about twenty feet to his right and left. 

“Alright, now this one’s gonna be a doozy. There’s a small pocket in front of that big boulder over there. Just give it a good kick.” From what Tony could see on his monitors, the moment that large rock moved, he would be free to blast the remaining stones and drag the kids out of there, no matter how many pieces they were in. 

Peter knew this would be painful. It meant one of two things: he’d have to do the kicking with the leg his busted ankle was attached to, or he’d have to put all his weight on that limb while he did the deed with his good leg. Either way, he was prepared for it to suck. Choosing the latter and supporting himself partially on one of the larger boulders to his right, he brought his left knee to a right angle before pushing out with as much force as he could muster.

Tony first heard and then saw the shifting of the obstructions before him, the remaining fragments tumbling from the top until they sat in almost neat little piles below their larger counterparts. 

Finally overwhelmed with exhaustion, pain, and the intensity of the last (at least) hour, Peter lowered himself onto the ground beneath him, only vaguely hearing metal scraping on stone, and the vibrations in the ground as Tony completed the last of the puzzle. 

As he felt himself losing grip on awareness, he only just felt himself being gently lifted. At long last, feeling safe in the arms of the man he considered to be his father, he let himself drift off into the realms of unconsciousness.

A/N: Finally he's out! Peter and Tony will definitely be having a conversation about it on Day 6, so make sure you stick around for the conclusion to this little short story. I hope you've all enjoyed it so far xx

[mayhembunnywrites]

Entangled Hearts: Hearts Full of Love

Series: Entangled Hearts

Pairing: The Quiett x Reader x Simon Dominic

Summary: It’s nice, just for even a day, to shove all of your problems aside and spend time with those who matter most to you.

You notice the calming murmur of low voices on either side of you as you wake up, both of them familiar to you in the best way possible. You can hear them stop talking as you wiggle a bit, restless in the state between sleep and wakefulness. You let out an exhausted sigh, both of your boyfriends stroking your bare skin in comfort as their attention turns to you for a moment. 

You pry your eyes open with quite a bit of effort as you force yourself to wake up with a murmur. Your eyes first settle on Donggab’s face, his expression gentle and one of love that you only get to see in moments with both of your lovers present. You blink blearily at him before rolling onto your back with a sleepy squeak as you stretch your back.

“Good morning,” the deep voice of your other lover comes from your other side, causing you to turn your head towards him and blink at him sleepily. 

“Mornin’,” you mumble, closing your eyes and sighing when you recognize that you won’t be able to sleep anymore. “Ugh, what were we meant to do today?” You sit up in the shared king-sized bed, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes before flopping back onto the sheets. After three years with your two lovers, you were comfortable enough to be naked around them without even noticing. 

Your trust in them was complete and total, you would trust them with your life at any time. They’d also trust you with their lives, you knew. After three years of unexpected visits to the E.R., late nights at their respective studios, and constant international travel, your triad had grown quite strong together. You had all finally decided to move in together after your relationship had been revealed through a very carefully planned Instagram post. 

The post had contained three hearts as the caption and a picture of the three of you resting in an embrace together. It was a simple statement, but it had proved a point. The three of you were together for as long as you wanted to be, and nothing would tear you apart. 

The only issue after going public with Kiseok and Donggab was the amount of hatred and death threats you had received almost immediately afterwards, your boyfriends becoming extremely protective over you to the point of attempting to hire bodyguards before you had put a stop to it. 

“No,” you had said firmly despite your boyfriends both pouting at you, “I do not need a bodyguard, it’s not like I ever leave the house anyways,” and that had been the end of that. The three of you had easily adjusted to life in the public eye as a couple, although you were not the first triad in the limelight by far. No, that honor had gone to Zico and Crush, their third being a year younger than them. Just like you, she wasn’t a celebrity until the news had broken. 

Now you three were following in their fateful footsteps, enjoying life together to the fullest that you possibly could. You had finally been able to go to the botanical gardens, to go to the shelter and adopt the cutest shiba inu mix, to simply enjoy life outside of the walls you had been previously confined between. 

You were broken out of your thoughts by a hand toying at your nipple, making you huff as you try to ignore it for a moment before batting it away, hearing Kiseok’s distinctive laughter at your easily predictable reaction. You start to doze off in your comfortable position between both of your lovers, just about to fall into darkness when suddenly you feel a hand slide up your inner thigh and you force yourself to wakefulness. 

“Ugh,” you mumble in your half-asleep state, “Leave me alone.” You listen as the hand stills and laughter erupts from each side of you before you feel Kiseok stand up, leaving Donggab free to hold you in your sleep. It’s only a minute later that your shiba inu comes bounding up onto the bed, causing you to groan as you snuggle into Donggab as much as possible in your attempt to escape from the inevitable. 

You finally pull back when you feel Hotteok start to lick the side of your face as much as she possibly can, the cute bundle of fluff pushing you and Donggab apart with glee. 

“Good morning to you, too,” you say with amusement as you sit up and ruffle her fur, holding the sheets to your chest all the while. You finally look away from your darling daughter’s brown eyes to notice Kiseok and Donggab both up and half dressed, watching you fondly. “What?” you say, looking down to make sure you’re all covered up. You look up only to have your lips captured by Donggab and you laugh into the kiss. 

“Good morning,” you whisper against his lips, pulling back from your kiss only to have Kiseok turn your head towards him gently, quickly capturing your lips in a brief kiss before pulling away, “Mmm, good morning to both of you,” you say happily as you watch Donggab and Kiseok share a brief kiss.

Hotteok curls up against you and you get up reluctantly, dropping the sheets from your body before happily walking over to your dresser in order to pick out a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt from one of your boyfriends. You settle on a plain black t-shirt and your favorite pair of soft shorts, moving to where Kiseok and Donggab had relocated. 

You smoothly brush past them into the kitchen, getting out some eggs and rice for a simple meal. You put the eggs on the stove, scrambling them and then swiftly moving on to cooking the rice before moving to pop some bread in the toaster. You note that one of your boyfriends, most likely Kiseok, had filled and turned on the electric kettle when you weren’t paying attention.

He smiles at you while you make your tea, causing you to smile shyly back at him. “What time did you two wake up at?” you ask him, curious at how long you’d slept in past them. They had clearly been up for a while while you had chosen to doze off in their arms. 

“We woke up at noon,” Donggab begins, a smirk making its way onto his face, “Unlike your sleepy ass that decided to wake up an entire hour later.” He watches as you huff before smiling at him brightly, ignoring his teasing for the time being as you turn back to finish cooking in silence. 

You finish plating the food and placing it on your nice but small table, clearly meant for three people. It was a fairly plain design, rustic wood to match some of the other pieces in your shared home. You pull away from the table, settling your hands on your hips with a smile as you survey the layout of the food. 

You just manage to finish confirming that everything is where it should be when you feel a hand brush over your ass, causing you to jump and spin around, causing Kiseok to laugh at your reaction as you scowl at him. He hunches over as he laughs, crumbling forward as much as he can while holding onto a nearby dining chair. You try to maintain a stern expression as you watch him, but it quickly turns into a small, reluctant smile as you watch one of the men you love most in the world absolutely lose it over such a simple thing.

You move to Donggab’s side and slip an arm around his waist as he slips one around your shoulders, slowly moving towards the table as your other boyfriend finally begins to compose himself. By the time that Kiseok is done with his little laughing fit, both Donggab and yourself have slid into your respective seats, waiting for him to sit down. He slides into the third chair happily and you all begin to eat.

Before you know it, you’ve all finished and cleaned up. The three of you have settled on the large couch, Hotteok at the bottom while you stretch to lay across both of your boyfriends. You turn on the TV with the remote, putting on some mindless Netflix show as you all relax together. Kiseok plays with your hair idly as you rest your head on his lap, comfortable enough to close your eyes and almost fall asleep. 

You’re close to falling asleep, your body stilling under the blanket that Donggab had placed over you, when the voices of your boyfriends begin to reach your ears. The soothing sound of their familiar voices, these men that you just love so much, finally is the thing that sends you off to sleep. 

No matter what happens, you’d always trust them to protect you. 

Author’s note: Hello friends, it’s nice to meet you again. I’ll be posting a new part to this series every Monday until I run out of inspiration. The next part will most likely be about Crush, Zico, and their third. I’ll probably alternate between couples as it goes on! I hope you’re looking forward to this as much as I am.

[justlightlysedated]

got time on my hands (time to slow you down)

Alex has been waiting for this moment since the second he woke up from a medically induced coma while he was healing from losing his leg and found out that the last couple of months he'd been living through hadn't actually happened.

Or hadn't happened yet since everything since he woke up until this moment, where he's waiting on bated breath for Michael to show up at the Airstream, was exactly the same as he remembered.

Alex couldn't exactly stop the government from requisitioning Foster's Ranch, not without offering an alternative or a really good explanation that wouldn't get anybody arrested or murdered, but he could stop his father.

It had been the highlight of his entire life to see the look on his father's face when he'd been discharged and arrested for abusing his rank and keeping Project Shepherd operational after he'd been ordered to shut it down.

It felt better than knocking him out with his crutch.

And while Alex is sure that he hasn't seen the last of his father yet, given his obsessive behavior, for the next three years that's going to be someone else's problem.

Alex is back in Roswell for a reason, and the alien serial killer is only a part of it.

The much larger part is driving up beneath the Foster's Ranch sign right now.

Alex looks down at his watch and sees that he's right on time.

He turns towards the doors of the Airstream, and peeks through the window, trying to look busy.

Alex had told his supervisors that it was unnecessary to send a whole group of airmen to tell one civilian they needed relocate their Airstream, and he'd been granted permission to go alone.

Which was a good thing, because while Alex really doesn't care anymore, he really doesn't want witnesses to what's going to happen next.

"Hey!" Michael says voice sharp and demanding as his hand closes around Alex's arm and pulls him around roughly. "That's private property!"

The last word seems to die in his throat halfway through as he gets a good look at Alex's face.

And Alex, Alex had been too busy back then drinking in the entire sight of him, eyes darting down the length of him and back up, like a man dying of thirst looking at a mirage of a cool glass of water, to notice the look in Michael's eyes.

But he can't look away now.

It's only been a couple of months for him, not even a full eighteen since he saw Michael last, running out of the Airstream and into the stormy night.

But for Michael it's been ten years, and Alex can feel the weight of it in his gaze.

In the way he can't seem to look at Alex directly, and how bright his eyes get.

Back then, he'd been too afraid with his father right there to let himself look back the way that he wanted to, but he doesn't stop himself now.

"Alex," Michael says, and Alex can see him steeling himself, covering the vulnerability he'd just displayed with a smirk. "Back from Baghdad. Your father must be proud. Finally, a real Manes Man."

Alex shakes his head and keeps up with the script. "Three quarters of one," he says and leans down to tap against the metal, and sees how Michael's antagonism immediately drops when he looks down and realizes what it means.

Alex inhales deeply.

"And my father isn't much of a real Manes Man," he says, and has to control his smile when Michael's eyes snap to his face, wide with shock. "Not with a dishonorable discharge and the three years in federal prison he's going to serve for continuing a project his supervisors shut down years ago, under his belt."

Michael continues to look at him in shock, and well, that's the least of the shocking revelations that Alex has in store for Michael, so he waits.

Waits for Michael to blink and look away, before he inhales deeply and looks back at him.

"What are you doing here?"

Alex pulls out the envelope with the eviction notice. "They're requisitioning the Ranch. You have a week to move."

Michael's face shutters, and Alex was fully expecting that, so he just waits for Michael to speak again.

He grabs the envelope, careful not to touch Alex, and doesn't open it as he looks at him.

"Is there a reason why you didn't just tape this to my door?" He asks, and gives him a cocky head tilt and drags his eyes down Alex as though trying to put him off.

"I wanted to see you," Alex says, and once again he catches Michael off guard.

His eyes snap back up to Alex's face, wide with shock once again, completely caught off guard, and Alex thinks that maybe, he's going to enjoy reliving this all more than he thought, if everything he says gets Michael looking at him like he can't believe Alex is real.

"Why?" Michael demands, voice hoarse.

"We have a lot of things to talk about," Alex says and takes one step closer to him even though they're already at arm's length. "But I want to say this first, and I want you to just listen."

Alex reaches for Michael's left hand and Michael freezes, letting Alex lift his hand to his face.

Alex licks his lips and cradles his hand gently between his.

He inhales and looks up at Michael who looks like he's two seconds away from falling apart.

"I'm sorry," he starts, and Michael's eyes fill with tears. "I shouldn't have left you behind when I left. I could stand here, in front of you and tell you that I didn't want to go. But I did."

Michael licks his lips, and looks to the side, blinking rapidly.

Alex inhales and continues talking, running his thumbs gently over the valley of scars on the back of his hand and looking at the way that his fingers twitch in Alex's grip.

"After what my father did to you, I wanted to be the kind of person who could win battles," he licks his lips and can feel the way that Michael's pulse is jumping erratically. "It felt good. But it also made me feel like I was no better than my father."

Michael's hand twitches hard in his, "Alex, no-"

"Let me finish," Alex asks, pleads really, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.

When Michael doesn't reply, Alex exhales and keeps going.

"I couldn't look in the mirror without seeing his face and I was so afraid of coming back here and having you tell me that I was no better than him, so I stayed away."

Michael's fingers dig into the skin of his palm, and Alex presses his thumbs down against the back of his hand.

"I've been to war, and I lost my leg, and my father was the monster under my bed, and my mother never loved me, but," Alex swallows again and lifts Michael's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the scars.

He hears Michael inhale sharply.

"Leaving you behind was one of the hardest things that I ever had to do, and if you just give me one more chance, I promise to-"

Michael tugs his hand out of Alex's grip roughly, and Alex feels his stomach sink to the floor.

Fuck, why is he always saying the wrong things?

He looks up to Michael ready to apologize, but Michael's fingers dig into the back of his neck, and he jerks him close, roughly, desperately, and crashes their mouths together.

It hurts, but it feels so good.

Alex moans against his mouth and wraps his arms around Michael's waist and opens up to him, surrendering easily when Michael tries to devour him, biting his mouth open and licking inside and obliterating every single coherent thought in Alex's head.

His fingers are bruises against the back of his neck, keeping him impossibly close, and making noises in the back of his throat that make Alex want to be closer.

Michael pulls away on a gasp and presses their foreheads together, inhaling deeply.

Alex watches the look on his face as he slowly opens his eyes, and he feels like the entire world has finally gotten back on it's natural orbit, when Michael looks at him eyes wide and brimming with wonder and content.

When his eyes meet Alex's he smiles, bright and happy, and just like the boy Alex fell in love with when he was seventeen.

Alex can't help but kiss him again, nice and slow and easy, and when Michael's desperation tries to get him to speed up, Alex slows him down again.

After all, they have all the time in the world, and Alex isn't planning on going anywhere.

[barnesaintdead]

Pandora's Box Prologue

Summary: Times have changed, great heroes were gone and all that remained was wreckage and lives to star over. After an alleged terrorist stack, Bucky is taken back to the past. With nightmares still vivid in his mind, he must choose between succumbing to fear of standing before it.

Warnings: smut, angst, mentions!abuse/rape/torture, +18

Word count: +1400

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Mutant!OC

A/N: This fic is being edited and reposted.

The bad dreams were not gone yet, no matter how much time passed. He squirmed on the bed, still unconscious, stirring in the dawn as if the weight of the world fell upon him. A shrill and terribly familiar scream filled the air, so close that even though it couldn't be identified, it made him cringe intead of waking up. His breath came in heavy puffs when panic enveloped him, his hands deperately searching on something — anything — to hold onto while he felt the ground tilting, threatening to throw him into the abyss the he knew it was just inched away. But there was nothing to cling but the soft fabric of the sheets beneath him that were already almost on the floor. And then, as suddenly as it started, the hooks that were hissing from the weight stopped, being replaced by slight click-clack sounds.

He was on that damned train once again. The next second, an explosion and the fire engulfed everything around him.

His eyes darted open to the cold darkness and he rolled back to the middle of the bed, his arm going up to cover his eyes as he tried to let that fucking nightmare aside. His pulse started to slow and the blood pumping in his ears were giving him the worst headache. His chest heaved for oxygen as he tried to control his anxiety, remembering that it wasn't the first time he had panicked during a dream, let alone would be the last. His head spun with the vivid details still fresh under his eyelids: the sound of metal scraping metal, the wind roaring agaist the wagon sides. The ground disappearing and giving way to an icy chasm.

He remembered being fallen in the snow, almost passing out by the ache that pulsed throug his body when his ears captured the sound of footsteps dragging trough the snow. He sighed in relief for thinking that it was Steve coming to his rescue. Only to find out that it wasn't Steve. There were more than three guys, all of them speaking a foreign language. And only when it came to him what language was that the tears flooded his eyes and he cried like a baby. Bucky Barnes has never been so terrified in his life. And he had a reason. Although, that explosion was something very new. That fire was never there before.

His vision was still a bit blurred, but he could make out Sam's silhouette, dressed and equipped, screaming at his door.

"Bombs. Not far. Fury thinks is a terrorist attack. Let's go!"

Bucky rubbed his eyes hard and yawned, his hands roaming the bed after the shirt he wore last night before going to bed. It was a little too late when they received a notification from the local cops. A small residential building was on fire, three explosions did the job and now the firefighters could not contain it. Bucky is frowning, both from the nightmare and the selfish tought that the police could have handled a smal fire on it's own that he knew he shouldn't be having.

However, his expression shifted quickly when he saw the red-orange glow and the dark smoke filling the sky from afar.

The choices we made are the ones that leads us to different paths, each decision is a curve, they can bring us closer or farther away from the end. The fate, still, works within its own rules. It has always been like that, fate is traced since our birth.

The fire department chief explained in details what happened since the beginning and what they needed to do, but Bucky wasn 't paying any attention. His heart was throbbing against his ribcage, not quite undertanding what was that and why his legs were moving towards the bulding on they own. The place was the enbodiment of hell itself. Hot, red and suffocating; flames licking the walls and turning to ash everything in its path. He wrinkled his nose when the unmistakable scent from burnt human flesh reached him. Approaching the main hall where a small group tried to fight the fire, he looke up and then to the base of the stairs. On the floor, some debris fell on bodies that were already charred.

"Buck!" Sam yells from the door when he realizes that his partner is running up the stairs without looking back, like he was hypnotized. "Fuck, Barnes!".

Bucky is now surrounded by the fire, the estructure giving in under his feat faster and faster as he approaches the top floor. The crackling of the flames are the only other sound beside his heart pounding in his ears. It is so hot he can barely breathe and the air is so toxic he can feel the smoke clinging into his lungs.

Finally, he finds it. What his heart — or instinct — is looking for. The last door in the hallway, the one that has been in his head since he set foot in that street, who knows why. Without hesitation, he kicks the door open, splitting the weak wook in two halfs. The smoke is so concentrated on those four walls he could barely see two feet ahead. The kitchen and living room were empty, the roof lining left no room from anyone to hide in the bathroom. And then he hears it. A low sob coming from the remaining room.

The girl was sitting in the corner beside the bed, the fire almost reaching her, but she seemed to be ignoring everything around her. Her eyes staring at a fixed point on the opposite wall, they don't move when Bucky enter the room and comes closer, but thick tears spill out like waterfall in her sooty cheeks. She was hugging her knees, rocking her body back and forth, shaking compulsively. Bucky dropped to his knees and crawled close to her. He knew that the smaller he seemed, the less chance he had to frighten her even more.

Now, face to face, his expression lit up in recognition. His heart skipped a beat when the girl's eyes strayed from the wall to face his, making him fall back with the sudden movement.

Somewhere outside her window, Sam was observing, not undertanding what was all that about. "Come on, Barnes! Get her outta there!" He screams.

As if his brain clicked back to reality, the Soldier realizes what is happening around them and uses a blanked he found on the ground to wrap the girl's small body and move it more carefully. She does not refure, nor does she tries to resist. She just let herself be carried away by him.

Bucky sixth sense comes to realization when is already too late. They hadn't even get to the window when the fourth explosion came. The entire top floor went down. Sam was launched into the air and Bucky has flied all the way to the ground, out of breath and coughing blood. The girl was on the other sidewalk, next to the remaining residents, covered in dirt and her own blood. She was looking dead into the sky with a faint smile on her bruised lips.

Sam rushes to his friend, taking off his head gears to get a better view of Bucky's wounds up close. He put his head against his tights and tried to keep the Soldier awake.

"What the fuck was that, Barnes?!" He asks, desperately calling for help. Wanda and Clint were already on their way. Bucky stared at him with unfocused eyes, his face covered in soot and drops of blood.

The sun behind them was rising at a lazy pace, but was strong enough for Sam to get a look at his partner's face better. Bucky was smirking.

"I... I know... Her" He says. Is hard to breathe when you can't feel your own lungs, you know?

"What?"

Sam was more concearned about the huge piece of rusty metal that is burried deep in Bucky's stomach. He pulls San by the collar.

"I know her" He says loudly and a bit harsh, then falls down, completely exhausted. His hole body ached.

"You'll be fine, pal" Sam murmurs softly.

...

Later that morning, after all that ruckus, the fire was extinguished. Residents were relocated and the injuried were transportated to local hospitals. Bucky had used his body as a shield to protect the girl, in addition to hitting his head against the glass and getting a face full of shards, the huge cut in his belly, minor burns and superficial scratches, he also had fractured his collarbone. Sam and Fury were watching the two of them from the bedroom window. Both slept soundly.

"What are we going to do with her?" Sam asks and hand Fury a huge file. "The cops gave me her data and I found this little baby in the wreckage of her room", then handled over a thick folder, full of notes and reports. The red figure in the front made Fury sigh loudly.

"It seems that we have a very big problem at hand", Fury says, rubbing the crease that formed between his brows. "I'll analyze these files. You keep an eye on them until they wake up".

[kuvvydraws]

Gabriel (Good Omens) x Reader

The Chicken That Finally Crossed The Fucking Road

Chapter 1

It was very late in the evening, the stars were all out already and you had chosen to take a stroll through the park to clear your mind. You had heard the rumours of the Saint James’ Park being a spectacle during this time of the year and you had to check. The verdict? You were certainly not disappointed. Not a person in sight, excepting the areas surrounding the lake and the people concerned with feeding those fiery birds swimming in the dark waters. While bodies of water and the amount of ducks that had the tendency to accumulate around them unsettled you to no end -there was something intrinsically evil about birds and no one seemed to notice but you-, the little meandering paths covered in gravel that slid under the shades of the trees were perfect to get lost and enjoy some solitude.

You hadn’t been in London for long, two or three months tops, and it was a city full enough of people and accents to satisfy your need to travel all along Europe at once. You weren’t a very social person per se, and thought that moving to the north, far from your Mediterranean origin, would satisfy your slim no none interaction needs while keeping you interested. Small talk you could deal with, and you had learned to blend in the crowds and disappear. It had worked down to a T at first, but the Mediterranean were stubborn as fuck. You wanted to think you grew used to it, but you didn’t. They wanted to talk, and to touch, and to interact, and to find anyone’s deepest, most well-kept secrets within the very first five minutes after meeting someone. To put it short, they were pushy. Affectionate, warm and welcoming, too. But pushy.

You had to deal with college, finish you studies and get those good grades in your pocket... The usual. But right after that moving out was set must.

Where was cheap enough that a person like you, with only the savings that a lame part time job could offer, could go to and not starve within the week? What was interesting? What was close? What seemed nice? Where could you scape from the overbearing sun of justice and the high temperatures?

The United Kingdom came knocking to your door and you had to open. And it had mostly everything? The currency was different, the weather was the absolutely opposite, and the population had worked very hard through the stereotypes to earn a particularly unpleasant reputation towards foreigners.

You had thought, relieved, that you would be fine. Delusional, was more like it.

You were the new attraction in your building, the shiny, young and clumsy neighbour that couldn’t say two words the exact same way and whose accent tended to dance all over the place before just settling into the traditional American pronunciation that was way easier on the tongue. At least you could get that right most of the time.

One would have thought that your obvious problems with the language would have been detriment enough to be granted mercy by the natives. Some slowness in their speech, a clearer vocalization perhaps. What you got, instead, was a big, fat fuck you.

The British, while nowhere near as irritating in their forwardness as your people, clearly loved their small talk. Your personal nightmare. And now, thanks to the same job that kept you alive and relatively well fed, you had to do it for a living. Being a waitress was... It paid the bills. It did. It was enough, it had to be. It had granted you a small apartment with two rooms, a bathroom, an intimate kitchen, the biggest couch that could fit in the tiniest living room and a large set of windows for people watching.

Although a bit expensive for one person living on their own, you made due. Anything to avoid going back home. It was alright most of the time, you did enjoy your solitude and being bundled up in blankets. And you loved not being supervised constantly by your family, hovering around you and checking, and commenting, and criticising, and demanding... It could drive anyone nuts. You were happy, you had your friends a video-call away and you didn’t have to answers to nobody.

It was great.

It was mostly great.

Even you could get lonely. Even you needed some fresh air. A nice outlet, somewhere to stretch your legs and walk and get some new stimuli that Netflix or a book couldn’t provide. And you have always liked parks.

Like the Saint James’.

That’s what brought you out here.

Basking in the sound of the tiny stones crunching under your soles and the humid smell of the air you wandered into the shadows, avoiding the smooching couples until you found a bench, constructed of uncomfortable, forged iron and facing a cosy square. And there you sat, hands snugged inside the pockets of your wool jacket and content with the quiet atmosphere.

You were fine, and all of the sudden, under no previous alert whatsoever, your head started to hurt, a hammering pain that filled your vision with dark spots and white flashes. Definitely threw you off of your rhythm there. It hurt so much you couldn’t even tell if you were breathing any longer. Your ears rang loudly and your mouth dried, teeth clanking while a too sweet taste found its home in your tongue. You yelped and grunted, holding your hands in front of your eyes and pressing hard, hoping it would made the uncomfortableness go away, and you forced your chest to inhale hard some air.

There was a crack. Then some lightning, curiously curling in the middle of the square form high above. And a strong thud.

And then, right in front of you, sharply dressed in the whitest robe you’ve ever seen, stood a man.

It wasn’t a punishment, they had assured, like, at least five times in a row. The Metatron had been very clear. Insistent, even. An exploratory mission, instead, to learn the reasons and methods of The Traitors to avoid destruction at the hand of the superior forces. He was to be an inside man, discover the secrets humanity was hiding in order to grant immunity to hellfire and holy water and then come back.

They were, quite obviously, avoiding to talk about the big fiasco that the Apocawasn’t had been; swept it under the carpet, hands washed and get out of that mess as fast as you can. No one wanted to dip their feet in those muddy waters, no sir.

The orders had been set and as soon as he had been dismissed, Gabriel had run – this is just a way to speed up the narration, for no one ran in Heaven; there were hoverboards everywhere, and you could walk, fly and even levitate from room to room if you so desired without anyone giving you a second glance, but no running- to get the first body he could find, not even looking what it was dressed like this time, before he was sent down to the middle ground, on Earth.

He was slightly concerned at the beginning since the paperwork to send someone down was always a burden, no matter who the archangel involved was, and he had been told that the mission was a top secret, most delicate operation. When he had voiced his concerns, they had checked the time, an assured him that humans were already guarded in their brick nests for the dark time before they had sent him, and even with that, there was always the possibility of relocating him in a discrete emplacement, protected from prying eyes.

If something was a stand out trait in Gabriel’s personality, it was his faith.

Blind and unquestionable despite the events regarding the Big Plan and the Ineffable Plan and whatnot. He was an angel. He had seen things so wonderful and breath-taking no human, no matter the language, could ever be able to capture in words. Gabriel had absolute faith in the Almighty. She was, after all, his creator and all-knowing, and there was no reason to doubt the information provided.

Where he landed, bare-footed and upright, was a witness though. The creature -the human, he corrected himself- was covering its face with its hands and its body was curled up, with the knees near the torso, and whined in a low, suffering pitch. What a lucky angel he was.

Gabriel couldn’t be bothered by this and stretched the borrowed body, ready to leave the pitiful mortal to its luck; however, he hadn’t taken a step yet when he felt a cold rush of air go through his body that left him trembling and weak. A voice, familiar in its detachment, inserted itself inside his head.

“We forgot” said the Metatron, tone assertive but neutral “, it is imperative that we follow the same procedures the target entities did, so there will be no need for your powers to be put at use.”

Gabriel’s veins shone brightly in a gold hue and soft sparkles left the tips of his fingers. He had an idea of what was happening and didn’t like it one bit. He fisted his hands hard, digging the nails in the palms, hoping to keep some magical capability trapped in the flesh. He realised, with a shaky breath and trembling arms, that he was scared. Gabriel feared no human, for he was an archangel, and his strength and value didn’t come from his ability to perform magic. But, without barely any notice, Heaven has taken away his only channel to contact them.

His vision twinkled, and he tried to force his eyelids to stay open. His body twitched, his knees buckled. He patted himself, trying to get his bearings; he could feel some divine presence inside him still. He could still perform miracles. He could at least survive. Somehow.

He could manage. If the Traitor Aziraphale had been able to live for six thousand years here on Earth without requesting once a lick of assistance from Heaven, then so could he. He was freaking going to.

Gabriel was alone for the first time in his existence. No Sandalphon to assist him, no Michael to softly point him in the right direction when in doubt, no Uriel to soothe him with confident words.

Gabriel was alone, and weak, almost powerless, and didn’t have a fucking clue on where to start. His situation should be of greater concern, he thought to himself, eyes fluttering closed, his breathing ragged. But, right now, as he felt the dull thuds that running boots approaching his form made on the ground, that concern belonged to future Gabriel.

He was so tired.

You heard some metallic fumbling, light stuff clicking, and tried to rub your eyes. A hand held your forearm, and it was covered with a plastic glove. Everything smelled sterile yet chemical and it was sickening. You were in a hospital. You knew. The bed was made with tuckered straw, the sheets raspy and the light dim due to a faded drape someone had tried to move to cover the window. At least, the glass was spotless.

With a grunt, the nurse helped you incorporate, face adorned with a polite and careless smile. After getting a confirmation on your name, address and general data as well as how you had ended in the country and at that bloody park, he saw precedent to inform you of how you had arrived to that too white room while adjusting the via that travelled up from a bag of intravenous serum to the crook of your elbow.

“Someone saw the man in the robe, there at the St. James, just collapsed on the floor” he chattered, pointing left towards the colourless curtain that divided the room in two halves “. Hard not to, though; he’s massive. Anyway, how do you feel now? You were unconscious too, over at a bench close to him. The people that called the ambulance thought you two where together, I believe?”

He had a foxy smile now, and while his intentions were good, you are positive, his accent was giving you a headache. He wasn’t British either, and you were struggling to follow his speech, thus getting more and more frustrated with everything.

You cringed, brushing the awful hospital gown they had dressed you with your fingers, and tried not no frown at the nurse guy. “That’s- Listen, I don’t know no man with a dress or whatever. My head just started hurting real bad and I guess I lost it or something. Consciousness, I mean. I’m not crazy or anything. Did you- There must be some tests I can- To check if I’m going to be okay, you know?”

He patted your arm gently again. “We already checked and everything is A-okay, you just had a really bad episode of low pressure blood. You have been here the whole night, monitored” he pointed at a few beeping machines at the side “, so we could make sure that it was just an sporadic event and nothing serious. It was the first time it happened to you, I presume?” You nodded and so did he, reaching a board that hung at the front of your bed and writing something down. “I guess it does not run in the family either? Have you been eating correctly? Stress due to work?”

You answered his questions, tired and hungry. “They people that brought the man and me here... Are they still around? I want to thank them if possible-”

“Sorry, they left right after the ambulance picked you guys up.” He clapped his hands softly “. I have to keep up with my rounds” he said “, but don’t worry, I’ll leave you here with Mr. Tall and Handsome. Maybe you two can figure out what’s going on.” He moved the curtain, and waved at you, half-body already out of the door “. In a few minutes, someone will come and bring you food. We need you well nourished! If your condition doesn’t worsen, you will be discharged this evening.”

And the door clicked shut. About half an hour later, another nurse came by, gave you a metallic tray with what she said was food and busied herself checking out the man on the other bed. You were sure there was no medical reason that could justify her rubbing his arms that much. When you where done, read: you couldn’t choke down any more of that glorified pile of sludge, the nurse freed you with a painful yank from the via in your arm and left you alone to watch the paint in the ceiling peel off by itself.

There was no clock in the room and you were going insane. It’s been hours, you were sure, but the daylight in London was a scam and whatever could penetrate the rag at the window told you nothing.

You had had enough time to think about him -the unconscious man laying on that other lame bed- and to observe him while he slept, no creeping intended. You just didn’t have anything else to do. Square jaw, clean and shaved face, short hair and a body well built, the only thing that proved you he didn’t have his shit put together as well as he would have liked was his expression. The eyes were hollow and with deep, dark bags underneath, and his lips were settled in an uncomfortable grimace. He had the appearance any successful CEO would have, not counting the Hollywood ones.

Yet he had something. Something you couldn’t point. A feeling that he was too... much? Better. Warmer. Just higher? It was the same feeling you got when you looked down from a too high place, you could see everything, you had access to anything, and yet you knew you shouldn’t be there.

He grunted and his eyelids twitched, and you pressed the button to call the staff so a nurse could take care of him.

The next twenty minutes were difficult for everyone. The guy refused to give his full name no matter what the nurse said. He squinted at everything, glared down at any gestures or approaches the staff would make to his via and tensed visibly when anyone got too close to his personal bubble. His voice was polite yet clipped, and he was being unreasonably uncooperative.

The few things he said came from the mouth of the stereotyped, insufferable boss that always knew better. He was massive alright, you thought, a massive dick. He was frowning the same way a man that didn’t like to do did, and then, by accident, his eyes met yours. It was only a second and then he was back to his silent treatment for the nurses. You scrunched your face and looked away reluctantly.

The bastard had the most gorgeous pair of eyes you had seen in your entire life. And he was hot. And the nurse from before was right about his arms. His arms were very nice.

Not soon enough, the room cleared, one of the three nurses that had ended in the previous mess handling the man, in a very unprofessional way, a tray with the same food you had been given.

He cranked his neck and it popped, and he grunted again, eyes still fixed at the door.

You clicked you tongue, looking in the same direction. “It can be hard, being hovered over like that. Not everybody likes it, but nurses can be a bit too stubborn.”

Gabriel didn’t answer to no authority but God’s. Those mortals -those humans- thought they could put him in a sinking surface and stab him and then try to gather information from him? Tough luck. They were close, too close, and he really didn’t want to react in a way that could harm them, but they needed to step away. Now.

Gabriel was a social butterfly. He was a big fish up in Heaven. There were always angels around him, listening to his words, answering to him, asking him questions. He was one of God’s best archangels, and he was nurturing and caring by nature.

He loved. He loved a lot, in general.

And he was soft; he meant no harm to any creature, for all of them were God’s work -the Apocawasn’t was a different thing, there were categories and obviously humans weren’t a priority in that topic. But he loved humans nonetheless. The same way one would love a fish in the ocean, or a fly, or a rooting cactus.

Yet those humans dressed in blue sacks were worthy of less and less love by the second.

Then you spoke. And you where right. He glanced at you, recognized you from the park and curled his mouth in a displeased gesture when his body protested at the general movement that was going on. You gave him a sympathetic smile when he looked down to that metallic thing that had been throw at him. There was a blob in there made of unidentified matter.

“It’s gross” you said as a warning, half laughing but with a lot of feeling.

“It does look outstandingly gross.”

Gabriel didn’t do well with food. Just thinking about the process made him nauseous. All that chewing and swallowing... and the expulsion bit was stomach-lurching. It was so unnecessary. Humans were disgusting. And now he needed it, because his body had lost almost all its connection with Heaven and the only other way to nourish it was this... This.

You cleared you throat and he fixed his eyes again on you. You pointed at the plastic tube that connected his arm to a bag of clear liquid. “They had us fed with the serum so you can probably hold up for a few more hours until you find something better.”

You smiled again and Gabriel felt a bit better. Smiles, he could handle. He smiled back, putting the tray away, trying very hard not to look at it. “So, do you recall anything about what happened? How were we transported to this location? Do you have access to that information?”

You face lit up a second too late. And then you emitted a soft, thrilled sound. “God! You are Heaven sent!”

Gabriel stopped breathing.

No.

Fuck no.

No, no, no, no. No. Come on. He couldn’t have blown it up just yet! He had done the ‘stopping by the Earth to say hi’ thing for years now! How, in the name of the Almighty, had you-!

“I beg your pardon?” He articulated through gritted teeth, trying his hardest not to change his facial expression or show any kind of tell with his body language. Come on, you were a human, you were as stupid as they come!

“Your accent!” You were giddy and it was sending the archangel mixed signals. You were not freaking out, which was good, but had totally obliterated his purpose on Earth, which was, well, terrible. “You are not from here, are you?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more precise.”

“Are you not from the States? I-” You hesitated and Gabriel saw his chance “. I thought you could be from there, you know? Sorry if I...”

"Do not apologize. It is far from here, but no one had pointed it out to me just yet. You are certainly right, of course.” This was more like it, with situations like this Gabriel could cope. It was ok, everything was ok. His cover was still up, and now he, master of improvisation, had made an ally. What a dull creature you were, but with so much potential!

And then you started asking questions. Gabriel beamed, he loved questions; he loved proving how useful he actually was, how accurate was God when he created him, how ready he was to fulfil his place and role in the Great Scheme. And you weren’t like those blue sack-nurse people, you were asking, not questioning. You weren’t doubting him. And you smiled. Smiles were always good, always a bonus.

You started asking him about his job, about it being a business, a big company. He said yes. Then you started talking about his family, which he didn’t have; his name, which he gave to you; his purpose in the city... And before he could answer you made a very curious noise.

You snorted. “Ah, I bet you could be part of one of those Reality TV shows where a rich CEO learns how to live the live of us poor commoners! You know, left to your luck to survive and wander around as lost as an octopus in a garage!”

You laughed, very hard. Gabriel started sweating.

“What if I told you” Gabriel licked his lips and tested his luck “that you are correct.”

You snorted again “. Yeah, alright. You won’t get me with that one, man. I’m not that dumb.”

He made a conciliatory gesture with his hands, open and with the palms facing you: no truth to hide, as humans assumed. How simple.

“You are free to believe what you desire. On another note, do you perhaps possess a nest?”

“A what?”

“A nest” he repeated kindly, not bothered for a second “. You are human, yes?”

“Yeah, been for a while.”

“You humans nest during the night, yes? As far as I know, they are made of bricks... A place of residence. Do you possess a place of residence?”

“Are you talking about houses?” Gabriel nodded towards you eagerly “. Yes, I do? An apartment, actually.”

“Fantastic.”

[fandomfindings]

Back

Pairing: (Connor x Reader)

Word Count : 1.6K

Warning(s) : Detroit: Become Human Spoilers

Summary: You return to Detroit after three years to see an old mentor and friend of yours Hank. In the process you reunite with your furry friend Sumo and learn some things about a lovable android named Connor.

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You stood outside of Hank’s house with a lopsided smirk on your face.You were familiar with the house for you had spent much time there before you left Detroit. You knew the ends and outs of the house, but knowing Hank you wouldn’t need to. Hank used to keep everything locked around the place from doors, to windows, even Sumo’s doggy door. However,knowing his situation you knew he most likely fell off his game as of lately and would care less about his own well being.You started at the door just for the heck of it and it was in fact locked.The next thing you checked was the window to the living room area.

You weren’t surprised that the window was unlocked, so you opened it and climbed inside. Unfortunately, as soon as you entered the house you slipped on one of Sumo’s toys and landed on your back with a loud thud.The harsh fall knocked all the wind from your lungs. Your mood quickly became sour, but this was short lived once Sumo himself began to lick your face repeatedly.Sumo had obviously recognized you and possibly your scent and that made you smile. Laughter quickly filled the area around you two once he continued to lick you.

“Down Sumo down.” you said, moving from your back to your knees as the saint bernard continued to attack you with his tongue.

“Yes you are a good boy, I know. Do you know what good boys get? They get a new toy! “ you exclaimed, pulling a brand new squeaky toy from behind your back with a smile. You did not notice but Hank and an android were glancing at you questiongly. You knew your plan to sneak up on Hank was a fail once Sumo approached you but right now you couldn’t care less. You like dogs.

“Hank, there is a highly attractive intruder in your house,what shall I do? “ the android spoke. You heard him and was actually quite flattered he found you attractive but you were too focused on Sumo to respond. Hank was slightly surprised by Connor commentating on your appearance but he ignored it with a simple shake of his head.

“No Connor there's no intruder.” Hank stated boredly, placing the beer he had in his hand on the kitchen table.

“I wouldn't go that far, I did sneak into your house.” you countered finally standing up from the floor. Sumo looked slightly disappointed that you left him but all you had to do was rub his head and he was fine again. He began to occupy himself with the new toy you got him.

“I would not classify your actions as ‘sneaking’, you were easily detected within your first twelve seconds of arrival.” Connor corrected, the more robotic part about being an android shining through.

“Thanks for the status report bot boy. I honestly didn’t expect Sumo to greet me right away or Hank to have an android in his house.” You clarified as you walked over to Connor and Hank. You patted Connor on the shoulder, clearly making him slightly uneasy.

“Yeah well I've changed alot since you left.” Hank stated, taking another swig of his beer.

“I can see that.”. You knew Hank drunk on occasion but it is quite clear that ever since the accident his drinking has become more of a problem.

“Why are you here Y/N ?” Hank questioned.

“They called me back, can you believe that ?” You said, giving him an awkward chuckle along with your explanation.

“Ok and what else. You didn't have to come back if you didn't really want to.”. Hank was obviously on to you. Ever since you left Detroit you have made a name for yourself and he knew that. If you did not want to come back to Detroit you didn’t have to but you wanted to.

“I wanted to make sure you were ok. I know I left when you weren't in the best of places but I honestly had no choice in that.I had some people around town and the station keep tabs on you for me,hope you don't mind.” You said with a smugness to your voice. You grabbed Hank’s beer and took a swig before handing it back to him.

“Even if I did you would’ve done it anyway. Look I appreciate you coming by but can we have this reunion another time, I'm tired.” Hank commented ,standing up from his chair.

“Yeah sure. Tomorrow at Chicken Feed 2 pm?”

“Sure kid. Connor walk her out make sure she doesn’t get mugged or something.Come on Sumo.” Hank commanded his precious dog. Sumo barked as if responding to him and followed,but not before giving your hand one last lick of his tongue.

“ I can handle myself Hank!” You shouted jokingly in his direction since he actually got pretty far in the short time.

“ I know.” Hank responded before shutting his door with a slight thud.   

You look over to Connor who had barely moved since you arrived to the house. The only movement he implemented was turning around to face you and Hank once you passed him.You observed the android trying to take in everything about his appearance. You had never seen an an android of his model before besides from tv, and you knew why. Without another word you began to walk towards the door knowing the android would follow.

“How do you know Lieutenant Anderson?“ Connor questioned as you both walked outside of the door and into the cold harsh wind of Detroit. Connor knew he could have scanned you ever since you ‘broke’ into Hank’s house but he strangely wanted to hear your story from you and not a computer database. He wanted to hear your voice even more than he already had.

“He hasn't mentioned me ? I'm a little hurt.” You mentioned jokingly, however Connor did not seem to register your tone so you continued to speak.

“I was his trainee a while back. He taught me everything I know. Once I became an official officer they relocated me out of Detroit since other cities were low on cops. I didn't really have a say in the matter since I was new to the force. When I left it was hard for Hank since he was going through some things at the time.”. With your words the mood obviously changed to a more somber one, which Connor was undoubtedly aware of.

“I presume you are referring to the death of his son Cole.”

“You would be correct. He passed 3 months before they moved me. I was the one thing keeping Hank semi stable in a way. I know his pain to a slight extent since I was close to Cole. I used to babysit him whenever I could. He was a good kid.” You spoke with sadness in your voice and upon your face, something Connor took notice of. Your sadness took a hold of Connor’s own emotions and in turn made him saddened as well.

“ So I have heard. I am sorry for your lost.” Connor stated trying to make an effort to comfort you.His actions made you smile in return to show you appreciation.

“Thanks. So what's your story?” You asked, wanting to to change the subject to something more light hearted.

“ What do you mean ?” He wondered, no one really took an interest in him or his story. He was honestly surprised by your question but also happy that you were taking an interest in him.

“ I saw you on TV with that Markus guy, your leader. However, I also know you are an advanced prototype that was sent by CyberLife to help humans like Hank in investigating cases involving deviant androids.”.Connor was astounded by the knowledge you knew about him. It wasn’t hard  information to come by but given that he had heard nothing about you and yet you seemed to know almost everything about him.

“How did you...”. Connor began to question but you cut him off.

“I told you I had eyes and ears everywhere. What I really want to know is how such an astute android like you can become deviant, and even help lead a revolution.”

“I was created to complete a mission and I intended to do whatever meant necessary for those missions,but something changed in me. I suddenly began to have these feelings that I knew nothing about. I started to have empathy for those androids who were forced into hiding or worse.I experienced first hand what it felt like to die when an android killed himself during one of Hank’s and I mission. I was scared. It was something I never experienced yet I knew this was how deviants felt everyday and I didn’t want that for my fellow androids. I decided to join them because I didn’t want us to have to live in fear any longer.” Connor said, finishing his monologue and answering all of your questions in the process.

“Fascinating. I’m sorry you had to go through that but it brought you here, which doesn’t seem to bad to me. Well I look forward to working with you.” You mentioned smiling to Connor, once again trying to lighten the mood.

“Working with me ?” Connor questioned. He knew you said the department called you back to Detroit but he didn’t know you two would be working directly together.

“Yes sir. You're looking at Detroit's newest red ice detective. Since a new wave of it has hit the area they’re putting Hank back on the case along with myself. You guys are getting the briefing tomorrow.” You explained as you both finally reached your car. You had parked it good distance away since you didn’t want it to draw attention during your ‘break in’ .

“Well then I look forward to working with you as well.” Connor said with genuine happiness in his voice.

“I was hoping you'd say that.” You admitted finally getting into your car with a wink and driving off, leaving Connor with a smile beyond belief on his face.

A/N : Thank you all for reading! I absolutely love Connor and his adorableness so I loved writing this imagine.Please feel free to leave me some feedback on how you think I did! :) 

[youhearstatic]

Cor’s Adventure Zone Writing

Longer Fics - colabs

A Single Slat of Wood and Canvas - After months of training, Lup fails to bring in her first solo reaper contract. She won’t tell anyone exactly what happened, even Barry. (By @tanger-catnip & @youhearstatic)

Barry woke with a start. His hand reached for the other side of the bed before he even knew who or where he was.

“Lup?” he asked the empty room.

Her side of the bed was cold. Barry was up and fumbling for his glasses in an instant, his heart pounding.

Made Before the Voidfish (Broken by a Voidfish) - For months Lup, Magnus, and Merle have been haunted by the presence of the ‘red robe’. Often showing up after their adventures to offer cryptic and usually unhelpful warnings and advice. Shortly after the events at Refuge, Lup hatches a plan to finally pin this incomprehensible creature down and get the answers to the questions burning inside her. [TwinSwap AU 1.0]  (By @tanger-catnip & @youhearstatic)

Lup heard her own voice twist into a burst of static. She couldn’t remember what she had just said or hold it in her brain, but her mouth knew the words. She bent over, a lance of pain shooting through her head. It hurt so much, but she was so close to something she just had to keep going.

More static. It was like something was stealing the words away from her. She tried to claw them back, but they just would not stay in. It was like vomiting, but with words that she couldn’t hear.

Lust is a Thing with Fangs - Lup tries to sneak in one more day of laboratory work before her annual heat cycle kicks in. Barry is there. It goes about how you would expect. (Explicit content.) (By @tanger-catnip & @youhearstatic)

Lup paused at the door to the lab. She stood up straight, wrapping herself in dignity and ignoring her heart pounding in her chest like a jackhammer. It would be fine. It was only Barry. He would be way too focused on his work to notice her trembling, or the fact she was flushed from the tips of her ears to her toes.

Lup licked her lips. She suddenly had the strangest feeling. Like part of her had come to a revelation about something and another was frantically trying to muffle it before it could be brought to her attention.

A Night at The Naughty Kitten - Out of options after the Starblaster hastily relocated without them, Lup and Barry spend the night at a “boutique” “short stay” hotel.

There’s only one bed, but that’s the least of anyone’s problems. (By @tanger-catnip & @youhearstatic)

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. It wasn’t the first time she’d ended up like this, but every time Lup wondered if it would be the one to break her. He wanted her so badly. Lup didn’t understand how she was supposed to handle seeing it so clearly on his face on top of her own longing.

Sandworms and Other Concerns - Barry discovers that Lup’s presence can improve any situation, including having his arm torn off by a fifty-foot-long, carnivorous, burrowing, acid-spitting, hook-toothed, pinstriped Sandworm. (By @tanger-catnip & @youhearstatic - Also on AO3.) {Hey guys, just to let you know: The sandworm is all in the title. This is Hurt/Comfort wrapped in Fluff. Angst levels are at absolute minimum!}

Lup blinked. Once, then twice. At first, she didn’t know what had woken her up. The ship was perfectly still, aside from the faint thrum of the bond engine that she’d learned how to tune out decades ago. The interior lighting that simulated a day-night cycle was dimmed as low as it went which meant it was still ‘nighttime.’

After a moment, Lup realised what it was. The steady pattern of breathing that lulled her into sleep was coming at its normal pace. Barry was awake.

Longer Fics - solo

Bluejeans, Boxers, and One Bed - A prompt that got out of hand, this is my contribution to the best mutual pining trope out there: There Was Only One Bed! 4500+ words of ridiculous pining with a side dish of underwear angst. Yup, it’s a thing.

She’s tempted to watch but doesn’t, turning to give him the same privacy he afforded her. She already knows he wears boxers. They’ve all seen each other’s laundry enough to know every article of clothing by heart. He has navy blue ones, two different types of plaids, and red ones with white hearts that she’s wanted to ask about for years now. Something about them screams Valentine’s Gift Set and she wants to know the story. Were they a serious gift? A gag gift? Did he get his heart broken? Was he…

Lup’s heart stutters wildly for a few beats. Was he in a relationship when they left?

Losing Time - (Post Story and Song) After being missing for three days, Barry has been mysteriously de-aged. Now he looks 20 years old and doesn’t remember anyone. Lup, Kravitz, and Taako are trying to figure things out. (17k words)

His hair is thicker, his face smoother. He’s still heavy but lighter than she’s used to. She’s known him for over a hundred years while neither of them aged.

And now he’s a stranger.

Part One  | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen

Losing Time “Exit Interview” (10 fanfic questions answered about Losing Time. Includes a lot of behind the scenes and extended explanations.)

It’s About Time - This is a love letter to Barry Bluejeans of sorts: the whole campaign of The Adventure Zone: Balance (and then some) told from Barry’s point of view. (All the Time in the Worlds Series, Pt two. Meaning it’s essentially the Barry POV companion fic to A Thousand Tiny Moments. WIP, updates Fridays.)

Two days later Barry is dead.

Again.

All those contradictions and questions are filled when he rises, spectral and nearly overwhelmed with more emotions than his lich form can handle.

Because when he’s dead he can remember it all.

Contradictions  (Prologue - tumblr link)

A Thousand Tiny Moments - Before being chosen for the Starblaster crew, Lup meets someone at a party. It doesn’t go well. (All the Time in the Worlds Series, Pt one, the Lup POV companion fic to It’s About Time. 14k words)

She drifts closer to him and slowly, so slowly, she bends her head to his. She pauses inches away, not yet touching but so close they share breath. Her hand slides along the lapel of his jacket and she feels his chest rise as he breathes in.

She looks at his mouth and thinks this is the last moment before I kiss him.It’s as inevitable as his chest falling beneath her hand as he exhales. So she kisses him. His lips are warm and soft against hers with the rich sting of alcohol painted on both their mouths.

The Lup POV minific that became A Thousand Tiny Moments

A Thousand Tiny Moments “Exit Interview” (10 fanfic questions answered about ATTM. Includes a lot of behind the scenes and extended explanations.)

Short Fics

Barry & Lup:

Morning in Bed (Lup and Barry just cuddling and being in love. Prompt Request.)

It’s Cold Outside But You’re Warm (Lup and Barry mutual pining. Prompt Request.)

Strings (Lup and Barry just performed their song. Lup has a few final doubts.)

What If She’s Just Gone? (Barry’s anxieties get away from him when Lup is missing. Prompt request.)

Will You Marry Me (Barry does what he has to. Prompt Request.)

Reactions (The twins deal with Barry being ill. Prompt Request.)

Curse and Canyon (Barry is hurt. Lup is trying to deal. Prompt Request.)

Take a Picture (Lup is frustrated. Prompt request.)

Your Laugh is so Adorable (Lup does some reluctant pining. Prompt request.)

Don’t Touch Me (Barry and Lup short experimental piece.)

Gathering (Taako plans a party. Prompt request.)

It was the Pottery (Taako teasing Barry. Prompt request.)

Super Short & Cutesy (Barry and Lup in the lab. Prompt request.)

What You Did Was Stupid (Barry and Lup on Tesseralia. Prompt request.)

This One is Really Dark (You’ve been warned. Prompt request.)

Let Me Help You (Prompt request for Barry & Lup.)

You Don’t Have to Act Like You’re Okay (Prompt request for Barry and Lup.)

Pride (Prompt based minific of Lup coming to Barry’s rescue at a Pride event.)

Hotel Balcony (A prompt based modern meet-cute for Barry and Lup.)

Hotel Balcony Pt 2 (Hey look, there’s more!)

Contradictions (Test minific/opener for the Barry POV fic that is in progress.)

Lup and Barry switch (Lup is the one that falls from the Starblaster, taking Taako with her.)

At the Wedding (Barry and Lup at Carey and Killian’s wedding. Quick scene inspired by a post.)

True Seeing (Barry in a voidfished body with a group of adventurers. Short group write piece.)

Other Short TAZ Pieces:

Getting Home (Super short Magnulia prompt)

Love is Dead (Taako has never had a soulmark. Kravitz gets one only after he dies. Taakitz Soulmate/Soulmark AU with Blupjeans background)

Second Chances ( When Lucretia gets the second void fish she realizes she can inoculate Davenport and talk to him.)

Just You and Me (JohnChurch prompt request.)

Karma is a Bitch/What Did You Say? (Taako & Barry’s friendship prompt request.)

Can You Keep a Secret? (Taako & Barry’s friendship prompt request.)

Meta, Etc

Headcanons:

[The Twins | Taako & Lup]

[The Lover | Barry]

[The Protector | Magnus]

[The Lonely Journal Keeper | Lucretia | The Director]

[The Peacemaker | Merle]

[The Wordless One | Davenport]

[Kravitz]

[Miscellaneous]

Meta:

Lucretia and the Red Robes (Pt 1) Lucretia and the Red Robes (Pt 2)

A list of every conversation Lucretia has with the boys about the Red Robes and a discussion of her thought process/intentions. Part 2 focuses specifically on how her words in Ep 59 may have influenced Magnus’s decisions going forward.

Murder or Suicide: What is it when lich!Barry sets up his living!Barry body to die?

Other:

TAZ Balance Characters as WoW Classes

[wackygoofball]

Moodboard: Jaime x Brienne - Jurassic Park AU

“Did you forget? We are going on a class trip today, Brienne.”

“You did not mention that to me as far as I remember.”

“Well, we are going. And it’s a school trip, so I can’t really skip it, can I?”

“Certainly not,” Brienne agrees, getting up to grab the car keys. Life has vastly changed for the young woman ever since she became the legal guardian for Arya Stark, after her parents and her older brother alongside his wife died in a tragic accident. In fact, Brienne was quite set on pursuing her military career in the Marine Corps, but when news reached her that Cat had passed away and meant to entrust her youngest daughter into her care, Brienne knew that her plans were about to change.

Though Arya has since tested Brienne’s devotion. The girl does not enjoy the new living conditions. Brienne accounts that to her grief foremost, which is why she lets some of those things slide, regardless of the fact that she demands discipline otherwise, something inherent in a former Marine Corps Colonel. However, there are limits to that for Brienne, and she will do whatever it takes to ensure that Arya settles in, into her new life in King’s Landing, and as her foster child, to her own conditions.

And so, Brienne drops the dark-haired girl off to drive to work, unaware that Arya has her very own plans. The Stark girl has done her research on this ominous Valyrian Park set in Old Valyria, which is still under construction. A former employee uploaded a video to YouTrident that he could take before he was thrown out. While the video has long since been taken down, the girl remembers every image in detail as she keeps replaying her file copy over and over again, stopping at one part of the video every time, the one thing that matters: Nymeria.

While Arya is still unclear about how the direwolf ended up in Old Valyria, she is determined to get her back now that she know where to find her. After she lost her parents and big brother already, Arya is determined to have Nymeria back in her life. She once owned the direwolf, but then she had to let her walk free when it was demanded that the animal be put down because Nymeria had bitten this asshole Joffrey Baratheon after he had beaten around Arya’s friend Mycah. But of that one thing Arya was certain after she saw the video: Nymeria has truly thrived since they parted ways, and now stands as tall as about thrice the size she was by the time Arya set her free.

Thus, the class trip of her stupid archaeology class came up just at the right moment. While the others have their dear fun at the museum by the docks, Arya slips away and onto the ship she knows will depart to Valyria to bring supplies there. Hidden away in the storage rooms, and equipped with enough food and drink to make it back, the girl wants to make it all the way to Valyrian Park, determined to get into the habitat to find her direwolf.

She will not lose just one more family member, she will make sure of it.

Back in King’s Landing, Brienne receives the one phone call she was about as little prepared for as she was for when she was informed of Cat’s demise: Arya’s teacher, already lost in tears, tells her that her foster child disappeared without a trace, that police is looking for her, but that she hasn’t been found yet.

Brienne, in an effort to find out to where the girl may have headed, goes into Arya’s room and starts to go through her things. She eventually finds a downloaded video file on the girl’s computer, depicting what Brienne knows at once to be Arya’s most treasured pet she had to give away before she came to King’s Landing.

“Couldn’t you talk to me first before running off to find Nymeria?” Brienne sighs, but she takes some solace in having a first clue about to where the girl likely headed: Valyrian Park.

Whatever that place is.

“Time to call in some favors, then.”

Elsewhere in the capitol, Jaime Lannister receives a sudden call from his brother Tyrion whom he hasn’t seen in years after the dwarfish man relocated to Essos to work for Daenerys Targaryen.

“What would you want?” Jaime asks with a grin. “I thought you are far too busy with your secretive life elsewhere to bother about your old brother rotting away back home.”

“Remember when I said to you that the work I do here in Essos is so very top secret that I could never possibly tell you about it because it is so, so, so very highly classified as super top secret?”

“You may have bragged about it a good dozen times. Why?” Jaime answers, sensing the distress in his brother’s voice.

And that can never mean any good.

“Uhm, well, something in that very secret project may have happened that may or may not require your professional input.”

“Tyrion, just say what is going on.”

“We seemingly had an intruder in the habitat of the facility,” the younger man answers.

“Habitat? You will have to be a bit more specific here, brother,” Jaime huffs.

“I can’t pass on specific information over the phone,” Tyrion insists.

“If there is a security problem you have at your precious secret hideout, you should call the security personnel and let them handle the matter instead of hoping for me to hop on a plane and get there,” Jaime advises him, already growing annoyed.

“It’s not about someone who entered our facility… I mean, it is in a way, but it is about finding that person again. You have the capacities to track that intruder down, as the best pathfinder the Army has ever had in its services. If someone can track that intruder down, it is you. And we need your help presently before… something happens,” Tyrion tells him.

“You may also recall that I had to leave the Army after my hand injury. I am not really the most able man anymore, quite literally so,” Jaime argues, looking back down on his right hand in a splint that he knows he won’t ever take off for long because that is the one thing that lets him use that hand in some way, at least.

“Lives are on the line, Jaime.”

The older man closes his eyes. “… Then book me a flight as soon as you can. But I make no guarantees.”

“Thank you so, so, so much.”

“And I will demand all information once I get there,” Jaime adds.

“I promise.”

“I will see you there.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Tyrion hangs up after that, feeling slightly relieved that he is getting help from someone he knows is very capable of doing his job. The young man is just about to get started on putting together a report for his brother, when suddenly, his phone rings, displaying a number that is not one of the few the department handed out to the staff. Tyrion frowns. No one should have that number other than employers and employees of Valyrian Park. Hesitantly, he takes the call. “Hello?”

“The name is Brienne of Tarth, Colonel of the Westeros Marine Corps. Do I speak to… Mr. Tyrion Lannister?” a young woman’s voice rings out, leaving no doubt in Tyrion’s mind that this lady is not up for fun of any kind.

“Yes, but how do you have that number? No one is supposed to…,” Tyrion means to say, but the woman cuts him off sharply, “I have influential friends and called in some favors from the military who helped you set up your park across the Narrow Sea. But that is not the matter. The matter is that I think you and I share in the same problem, namely that you currently host a girl at Valyrian Park who should have no business there, even more so because you should have security in place to prevent a young girl from stealing on a ship to make it all the way to your facility across the Narrow Sea. Am I correct in that assessment, Mr. Lannister?”

“Well, that is a complicated matter…,” Tyrion wants to say, but Brienne is not having any of it, “This is a yes or no question, sir. Is she in Old Valyria?”

“… Yes.”

“Do you have her there right now so I can speak to her? Or do I have to call in more favors to file a lawsuit against you for keeping this information from law enforcement over in Westeros who are still looking for the girl?” Brienne threatens him, because she cannot believe that they would not call her at once if they have knowledge that Arya is there.

“No, no lawsuit necessary. We have her on camera… only, though,” Tyrion tells her.

“So she is not…,” Brienne mutters, and Tyrion confirms. “She stole into the habitat. We sent security out to get her, but we have lost her yesterday. Steps have since been taken to send a rescue team, Ms. Tarth. When we noticed her presence with our heat-sensitive cameras, one of our test subjects destroyed the camera, and by the time the system was back up, the intruder… the girl was gone.”

“Has the rescue team since left to search for her?” Brienne asks, trying to keep her calm, though her heart is almost beating out of her chest. She is supposed to protect Arya, and now this.

“No, we are still putting together a team as we speak,” Tyrion replies.

“Then that should give me enough time to get to Old Valyria to join said team,” Brienne says with determination.

Tyrion’s eyes widen at that. “What? No, Ms. Tarth. Rest assured that we will handle the matter.”

“I won’t rest assured until Arya is back with me. I will come to Valyrian Park, this way or the other. You can only decide on the mood I will be in by the time I will set foot on Old Valyria, Mr. Lannister. So you either get me on a plane or I will come to you, even more pissed than I am by virtue of you having kept it from federal government and thus from me for a whole day that a young girl wanders around your habitat, whatever it may hold as test subjects.”

Tyrion licks his lips. No, that woman is definitely not up for games of any kind. “Well… there may be a free spot on the private jet meant to go to Valyria tomorrow morning.”

“Then I will be on that private jet. I will expect a full report once I arrive.”

“Curiously, I heard that same sentence today already,” Tyrion laughs nervously.

“Good day, Mr. Lannister.”

“Good day, Ms. Tarth.”

With that, the young woman hangs up. Brienne takes a moment to gather herself before setting out to the task of packing her gear. Because of that she is certain, whatever is in this habitat means no good. She has seen Nymeria in that video, and if something else that size roams around the habitat, Brienne must get to Arya out of there as soon as possible.

Because there is nothing more hateful than failing to protect the ones you love.

On the next day, Brienne is one of the first to arrive at the port from which they are supposed to take the private jet to Old Valyria, but she is ever the more surprised when she hears that they have to wait for another passenger. Though thankfully, the man arrives before Brienne can knock the pilot over to take the jet herself, because she just has to get to Arya, no matter the costs.

“Good day… are you my flight attendant? How convenient of my brother to think about that,” the man chimes.

“I am going to Valyrian Park to join a rescue team. And what are you doing here?” she wants to know.

“Coincidentally, the same,” he says with a grin, holding out his hand to her. “Jaime Lannister.”

Brienne narrows her eyes at him, but then takes his hand. “Brienne of Tarth. So you must be Mr. Lannister’s brother, I’d assume.”

“He is the brains, I am the muscles, but yeah,” Jaime confirms.

“It makes no difference now anyway. We should get going.”

“Agreed.”

And so, the jet takes off to bring them to Old Valyria. After a quick exchange, Jaime has to realize that the stakes have just been raised for the mission, because it turns out that the intruder is not just some thug who stole shiny lab material, but apparently a young girl lost in the middle of a habitat that may very well inhabit very dangerous animals, something he can confirm himself after Brienne shows him the video she uploaded to her phone before departing.

Tyrion will suffer for keeping that from me. I will smack him all the way into the last century.

Once they arrive at the airport, they are greeted by Tyrion and Daenerys Targaryen, the founder of Valyrian Park.

“So you are responsible for endangering children?” Brienne spats once they get off the plane.

“I am preserving endangered species, Ms. Tarth,” Ms. Targaryen answers.

“Well, maybe a dark-haired girl is not special enough to you, but Arya is to me,” Brienne scoffs through narrowed eyes.

“Ladies, ladies, please,” Tyrion interrupts, holding up his hands. “We all came here for the same purpose, which is to find the girl, Arya, I mean. So we should not waste our time arguing, but setting out to work.”

“Agreed,” Brienne says, nodding her head.

They proceed into the headquarters, where they meet Ms. Targaryen’s right-hand man Jorah Mormont. Together, they go around a small tour within the facility, since Tyrion insists that one has to see it in order to understand it. As it turns out, Daenerys hired Tyrion to aid her in reviving literal dragons from three ancient eggs that have been in her family’s possession for many generations. She has long since dreamed about “hatching” them, but a special procedure was needed to awake them from the stone. Tyrion has since succeeded in extracting the DNA from the eggs to breed hybrid dragons by mixing that DNA with those of reptiles, in the hope to eventually breed back to the ancient dragons that died out and disappeared from the face of the earth. Ms. Targaryen bears the personal hope to not only breed back dragons in general, but also to revive the three dragons from the stone, once they have obtained enough data from their hybrids.

“If everything goes according to plan, dragons will become part of nature again, as they once were. In Valyrian Park, they can thrive because that is their natural habitat. And children and adults alike will get to see dragons fly again,” Daenerys explains.

“And get some big money into your pockets, I’d assume,” Jaime huffs.

“You need money to run a business, Mr. Lannister. But our purpose is greater than tourism. It is to bring to life a species that did not deserve to die out just because people deemed it too dangerous. Here, we can now create the conditions to let the dragons thrive, but within limits,” Ms. Targaryen insists. “They are not the monsters they were made out to be. They just need a place to stay, and that should be the place from where they came. That is here. This is their home.”

“And you seem to have done a great job setting those limits, considering that it took just one little girl to get through them all,” Jaime snorts.

“The park was not meant to be opened up to the public until much later. The girl intruded, and yes, that was a failure in our security system, but frankly, we didn’t think that a girl would go such lengths only to steal into the habitat,” Daenerys fires back.

“Do you sincerely want to blame Arya for that? You are breeding weapons of mass destruction in small here,” Jaime scoffs, for which Brienne is thankful, because he expresses her very sentiment. “I tend to think that evolution happens for a reason, Ms. Targaryen, and the dragons had their shot… and lost.”

“And that is a misconception, Mr. Lannister. Because dragons did not just disappear because they failed to adapt, they were forced into submission. Humans made them disappear from the face of earth by trying to control them. That was not natural selection, not evolution. It was human-made destruction. And I just mean to give back to the species what we as humanity have taken away from them,” Daenerys insists. “I am righting a wrong.”

“Which has me wondering whether you care more about some gigantic lizards or… humans,” Jaime huffs, turning to Tyrion with an all-saying look of disapproval.  

“One can care about both,” the young woman with silver-blonde hair insists.

“I am not too sure about that,” Jaime huffs.

“If you allowed,” Jorah interrupts. “I would suggest that I will go with you and the remains of the team into the habitat to find the girl and bring her to safety.”

“We will come with to the border.”

“But Ms. Targaryen,” Jorah mutters.

“I insist.”

“As you will. Now come. We have no time to lose.”

“This is the second smart thing I heard someone of you say today, which is not a good statistic, I may add,” Jaime scoffs as they head to the boats which are meant to take them to the habitat.

However, once they arrive there, it doesn’t take them long to notice that something is wrong. Some of the cages are broken through or otherwise damaged.

“How did they get through that?”

“Because dragons can breathe fire and fire melts steel,” Jaime comments as he inspects the fences. “Seems like your breeding back goes faster than you thought.”

They are interrupted by the growl of an animal about ten times their size, and hungry for a snack.

“So now, everyone gets back into the boat. I will go looking for the girl. And you two especially would do best staying around the bear guy here, because he knows his training and may be able to prevent your personal WMDs from barbecuing us all. Great theme park idea, I must say!”

“I am going with you,” Brienne insists.

“I can handle it alone.”

“I am not going back. Arya is out there. I vowed to find her. And so I will, whether you want to or not.”

“Fine then!”

Jaime realizes that Brienne won’t budge, so they quickly disappear into the woods before the dragon can get to them. Jorah takes Daenerys and Tyrion back out with the boat, in the hope that the hybrids they know are in the ocean were not yet alerted to their presence.

The two soldiers proceed into the deeper parts of the habitat in search for Arya. Thankfully, they are a surprisingly good team, since both have expertise in fighting and surviving in dangerous environments. Though certainly, neither Army nor Marines prepared them for fending off live dragons.

And so, the two race to find the girl amidst the habitat who is busy chasing her direwolf rather than getting back home, only to find out that the danger coming from the dragon hybrids may be far greater than firstly estimated, considering that they have since learned and adapted to their habitat with any intention to break free and seek out other places than Old Valyria, much in contrast to what Ms. Targaryen had originally in mind for them.

Jaime and Brienne thus find themselves in dire danger, which forces two soldiers struggling not just for survival but also their own personal demons far closer together than either one would ever dare to anticipate.

And it has yet to be determined who is going to win this fight of survival of the fittest… 

Additional Image Sources: Jurassic Park Trilogy (1993, 1997, 2001), Jurassic World (2015).

[youremyplayground]

Beauty of the Shore Chapter 4

Kun couldn’t stop his racing mind. Who was Heiran? Or what? Who were that little girl and her mother? Who grabbed the little girl? Nonstop questions kept forming in his mind. What more could he do but go back to where he called home and do the mermaid equivalent of pace?

He tried to organize his thoughts the best he could. The thing he kept getting stuck on was the fact that he had the vision, to begin with. He wasn’t supposed to get them. The last time he got a vision was when Hua was born. Much to his brother’s disappointment as the family wanted her gender to be a surprise. Not that Sheng wasn’t ever NOT disappointed in Kun, even when they were children.

 Just as Kun was deep in thought, a flash of red and green swam passed like a bolt. Stopping in his tracks, he asked himself if he was going crazy before slowly following the path it took. He could’ve sworn it looked like one of his kind. But he didn’t know anyone that had that coloring, not that they’d be all the way out here anyway.

 As he rounded a corner, his jaw dropped. A merman. With bright red hair and a seafoam green tail. He was looking around, extremely flustered. He clearly didn’t know where he was going. Just as Kun was about to swim towards him, he whipped around and jerked back in surprise.

 “Ah!” The stranger yelped, putting a hand over his heart.

 He was quite handsome. In fact, his face resembled someone, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Looking at the stranger’s hair, he immediately thought of Hannah. Although looking comparing the two in his mind, he noticed that Hannah’s was duller. Like it had been drained.

 “Whoa…where are you from? What clan?” The stranger’s shock was replaced with excitement.

 “There are other clans?” Kun’s heart lifted, everyone back home was convinced they were the last ones.

 “Oh, sure! I came across at least 10 on the way over here! I’m Taeyong by the way! I’m from the Amethyst clan!”

 “Kun…Jade clan.”

 “Really? Everyone thinks you guys are extinct because your hovel is empty. My clan holds a ceremony for you guys each year.”

 “Yeah we got found by the humans a couple hundred years ago I guess, so we relocated.”

 Taeyong seemed really excitable. All frustration that was on his face just a second ago was replaced by ecstatic amazement. Kun was slightly unnerved by this. He didn’t know why, but something was untrustworthy about this man.

 “Oh wow! Where to? Wait! No, I shouldn’t get sidetracked. I’m here on a mission.”

 “Ahh..”

 “You see, my little sister is missing. Has been for years. She was playing in the shallows of the island with our mother and then a human killed our mom and stole her.”

 The vision popped into Kun’s head again. The little girl crying over her dead mother. Heiran. The hands taking the little girl. His head began to ache.

 “I’ve been looking everywhere for her. Well so has the clan, but they’re all looking around our island. Like on the mainland and stuff, but I had a feeling she’d be way over here. I don’t think the human who stole her would be dumb enough to keep her close to her clan. Like, if they were smart enough to know about her, anyway. Hey, you wouldn’t have seen her, would you? She would have the same hair and tail as me. That’s about all I can describe her though. I mean its been years so she’d look different.”

 He just kept talking, making Kun’s headache worse. The more this man talked, the more Kun didn’t trust him. Something in his gut told him to be wary. Taeyong didn’t seem like he was telling the whole truth. If he was, he was definitely leaving out some important details.

 “No, sorry, you’re the first of my species I’ve see-”

 “Oh, of course, you wouldn’t have seen her! Sorry, I forgot that you didn’t even know the other clans were still out there. Thanks though!” Taeyong exclaimed and swam off.

 What a strange man, Kun thought to himself. He swam back to his small cave and rubbed his aching temples. Maybe there’s something about the waters here that messes with his head. That would explain the vision too. Whatever, he’d deal with it in the morning.

  “Heiran- ah! Come over here! Look at this shell!” A gorgeous mermaid with deep red hair exclaimed to her very young daughter.

 “Coming!” The young mermaid yelled back, her arms full of random shells and rocks.

 The two swam around looking for different colored treasures to bring back home. Neither one of them noticed someone lurking in the shadows just on the shore, watching them. They also didn’t notice the underwater cave that brought ocean water in right beside the figure, where a merman sat.

 “You sure this will work?” The merman whispered, identity lost in the dark.

 “Trust me, it will.” A crackly voice responded.

 A glowing green bottle was passed to the merman who held it tightly in their grip before swimming back into the cave and near where the mother and child were. He glared at the two of them before forcing a smile and swam towards them. He just needed to get the mother to drink the contents. Then everything would be fine. All his problems would be solved.

 Just as he swam into the light, Kun jolted awake. To his horror, Taeyong was inches from his face. He jolted back and Taeyong disappeared. Just a figment of his imagination. The shock of seeing that caused his dream to float away from his mind. Instead replaced with the same curiosity that he’s had since he got here. Curiosity to see Hannah.

   “Hannah, are you sure you’re down for this?” Hannah’s friend Tori asked through the bathroom door.

 Hannah was finishing getting dressed in a wet suit. Apparently, it’s supposed to help her keep warm while in the water. Not that she really wanted to go back in the water again, but it’s better to be prepared.

 “It’s a boat ride. I should be fine. We’ll be wearing life jackets right?” Hannah’s voice had the slightest tinge of fear.

 “Of course, dumbass.”

 “Then I’ll be fine.” Hannah laughed.

 Her laughter was cut off by coughing. She seemed to have a chronic cough ever since she almost drowned. Chalking it up to a side effect of being in the water then into the cold air, she didn’t pay any attention to it besides taking a cough drop.

 “That’s getting worse, are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor? Or even tell Astra?”

 “Why would I tell her that? You know how she is whenever I go near water!” Hannah exclaimed.

 “That’s true, she’s more scared of water than you are. It’s a surprise she lets you shower.”

 “How else would she get clean, Tori? Lick herself like a cat?”

 “Oh shut up Aaron!”

 Hannah walked out with a hair tie in her hand, tying her hair into a ponytail. Just as she got out to the living room, her phone started ringing. Tori grabbed it off the table to hand to her and glanced at the name.

 “I’m telling you, Astra is psychic or something. There has to be a reason that her name is like a witch name!”

 “Simple, her parents were hippies.” Hannah said, taking the phone, “Hey Mom.”

 “Are you going in the water today? I got a bad feeling.”

 “No, Mom.”

 “I really wish you’d change your major. Something more…on land. Like a lawyer.”

 “Mom, I promise you, nothing will happen to me. Being a marine biology major doesn’t mean I have to go in the water.”

 “Okay... I love you.”

 “I love you too.” Hannah rolled her eyes and hung up.

 “Okay is everyone ready?” Aaron asked, opening the door for them to walk out onto the dock.

 “Yep.” Hannah and Tori said at the same time.

 “Lessgetit,” Aaron responded.

 As soon as they got onto the dock, Hannah wrapped her arm around Tori’s, anchoring herself to her. At least this way if she got blown off again, Tori would come in with her and be able to save her.

 “Hey! Isn’t that the guy that saved you?” Aaron turned his head to Hannah, pointing to the water.

 Letting go of Tori, Hannah walked over to Aaron and followed where he was pointing. A cute boy around her age was wading in the water, looking towards them. As soon as they made eye contact, surprise filled his eyes. They were soon replaced with the same strange calm that Hannah was filled with. Hannah felt she could trust him. She felt like she needed to talk to him. However as soon as she took a step, he went under the water. She swore she saw a glimpse of something shimmer in the water following him.

[fuzziekins]

It used to be so easy for Marianna. If only she could go back to that time….

She was open. From a young age she knew she was ‘different’. She didn’t experience crushes like her classmates. When asked who she likes or thought was cute Marianna would say she didn’t like anyone and proceeded to make up a silly story about someone. Everyone seemed to enjoy that. And, although she didn’t have the word for it at the time, no one seemed to mind or care.

She was confident. She knew what she was good at and unafraid to hide it. Math? Her hand always went right up. Basketball? Even if she wasn’t very tall she could speed past her opponent without a problem.

She was comfortable. Marianna was who she was. She felt there was no need to change nor would she want to. There was hardly, if ever, a need to lie about anything or cover something up. When everyone else was trying to fit in or give into peer pressure Marianna would never follow the crowd.

She had talked to her friends about bottled emotions before. For the most part she assumed it to be a lie. Or perhaps an exaggeration. When one friend spoke about saving up to buy some courage to talk to his crush, Marianna attempted to talk him out of it. She said he didn’t need to buy it; it was inside of him all along. A couple of weeks later her friend strutted right up to the crush, tapped them on the shoulder and said he liked them. It was such a drastic change from the shy, sensitive, pessimistic guy she knew.

Marianna continued to see such instances over the years.

In college she met a premed student who was miserable. They didn’t want to be a doctor, rather an engineer. A few days later they practically danced into class, overjoyed to be in the medical field.

At her first job after college Marianna had a boss who was preparing to be a father. Surprisingly he wasn’t nervous at all. That in turn made his wife more afraid. The boss couldn’t understand why; he wished so badly he could relate to her. Instead of therapy, the boss went out and bought some fear. He became as freaked out about his wife - even about the labor.

The older she got the more she saw people relying on these emotions. Surely though, they weren’t real. They were forced. Not genuine. It was like all of these people were lying. They were giving up a part of themselves. Marianna swore she would never be like that. That she’d never resort to it.

That is, until her mother passed away. 

It came out of nowhere. No one could have predicted it. Maybe that was why it hit her so hard. Maybe that was why she felt so broken. Maybe that was why she gave up. She couldn’t focus on her job. She couldn’t bring herself to talk to anyone. She barely left the house. How could this happen now? She was still so young. So inexperienced. How was she supposed to continue living without her mother? The one person that was always there. Who encouraged and supported her. That she could talk to about everything.

A few months passed since the funeral. A distant cousin came to check on Marianna. She knew something was wrong. That Marianna couldn’t go on that way. This cousin, too, had gone through a devastating loss. She recommended the bottled emotions. Supposedly it was the happiness she bought that got her through, until she found real happiness. Before, Marianna wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But now? Truly, what did she have left to lose?

So she went to the mall, the nearest location that sold those things. Emotion Potions, the store was called. How uncreative. She arrived early, shortly after the store opened so there were no crowds.

“Good morning,” the pleasant saleswoman greeted. “What can I help you feel today?”

She sounded genuine, but somehow it still felt so fake.

“I…I don’t know,” Marianna confessed softly.

The associate pursed her lips, pausing. “Hmm…you seem like you could use some happiness. I can offer you a trial size for half off. Try it for the week.”

Marianna shook her head solemnly. “I don’t think anything can make me happy right now.”

“Don’t worry, you don’t need happiness specifically,” she promised. “We have plenty of options that can lead to happiness. I’ve got some motivation that can get you up and going in no time. Or, if you’re more of a creative person, we have a sale on inspiration this month. It’s a bogo!”

It remained unappealing.

The woman clicked her tongue. “You’ve got it pretty bad, don’t you?”

“I mean…. I just lost my mom. So….” Marianna confessed.

“Oh! I’m so sorry to hear that!” the associate gasped. “I didn’t realize it was that traumatic. If I had known…”

“It’s fine. You couldn’t have known,” Marianna sighed.

The blonde leaned up against one of the displays. “Do you want to talk about it? It’s ok if you don’t. But I’m not exactly busy right now.”

Marianna shook her head. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly. “I guess….” She paused. Was she really going to talk to this stranger? Let everything out? Sure she…whatever her name was…seemed understanding. But did she really care? Would it be worth to actually share with someone? Marianna shifted her gaze to the name tag. Eloise. Her stare was unchanging. Marianna took another glance at the woman. Eloise had her head tilted, flecks of concern twinkling in her eyes. Maybe…. What harm could it really do? What else did Marianna have to lose at this rate?

“It happened so quickly. We were in the store…. I went to another section for two minutes….” She hesitated and looked down, arms folded across her chest. “Then…I heard a scream. I ran back and…and she was down. Surrounded by people. And….” She shook her head. “And it was too late.

Eloise grasped her chest, hand hovering over her heart. “I’m so sorry…. I couldn’t even imagine…. That’s definitely an experience.”

“That’s one word, I suppose,” Marianna sighed.

“And your family? Are they…?” the blonde wondered.

Marianna shook her head. “Some distant relatives. They’re scattered. But…it was just her.”

Another pause ensued.

Eloise let out a breath, muttering to herself. “I picked a good day for some empathy.”

Marianna glanced up. “What was that?”

The employee blinked. “Oh don’t worry about me! I’m just talking to myself. You have a lot more on your plate.”

Any other day, any other time, Marianna’s suspicions would have risen. Today? Let alone recently? She just didn’t care anymore. “Oh….”

Eloise licked her lips, her bright nails lightly tapping against the table. “You know what?” she spoke after a minute. “I’m going to find something for you. On the house.”

“You don’t have to…” she started.

Eloise held up a hand. “I insist. And I’m even going to give you my card and a coupon. If what I give you helps, come back any time. Use my name. I’d be a fool to let you continue on this way. I want to help.” She signaled Marianna to follow her to the back. Extra storage, no doubt. Surely that proved to be an understatement. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of bottles. It wasn’t until that moment Marianna realized why others relied so much on this method. Maybe, just maybe, there was something to it after all?

“So!” Eloise’s voice broke through Marianna’s thoughts. The blonde was already climbing a ladder, looking through the stash. “Tell me a little more. Please. Are you back at work? Can I get you a pinch of focus for it?”

“No, I…no I’m not,” she sighed.

Eloise nodded and relocated to another shelf. “Do you have any close friends? I’ve got some extra courage around, if you need help talking to them.”

“I’d rather not/ They have their own problems. Kids and families and all…” Marianna answered.

“And you? Do you have a partner to lean on?” Eloise inquired.

At that, even Marianna couldn’t fight back her typical reaction. “Please. I’m aro. And anyway, boys have cooties and girls are catty.”

“Well you’re not wrong,” Eloise shrugged. She continued shifting through the bottles until she came to a halt. She blinked, tilting her head to glance at the customer below her. “Wait…you’re aro?”

Marianna groaned. ��Yes. It’s a word. An actual thing.”

To that, her eyes widened. “Of course! It’s perfect!”

For once, a distracting response. Marianna blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

Eloise jumped down. “Aromantic! Of course! Why didn’t I realize?” She pushed the ladder, leapt onto one of the steps and rode it down the aisle. Once she stopped, she climbed to one of the top shelves.

Marianna put her hands on her hips. “If you got a problem with it…”

“I don’t!” Eloise called. She continued while moving some jars out of the way. “Aros don’t feel romantic love right? But the love they feel for everyone else in their life is so powerful they don’t need romance! If your mom was your best friend and the person you shared all that love with, then you have a void. What’s all that love good for if you don’t have anyone to share it with?”

“So what, you’re gonna give me a love potion?” Marianna asked doubtfully.

“No,” the employee scoffed. She jumped down and returned to her client. “As if! This is a romantic feeling. Specifically, attraction.”

Marianna took a step back. “Wait…are you trying to change me? You can’t just take my orientation away!”

“Attraction affects everyone differently. Just like how people can show happiness or sadness differently,” Eloise explained. “All this is gonna do is let you redirect that love you lost to someone else. It’s meant to help you get through this hardest time. It’s not going to replace or get rid of anyone or anything.”

“And how would you know?” Marianna questioned with disbelief. 

There was a moment of silence. Still, Eloise’s face remained the same. Comfortable. In so few words she seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. Then, with a gentle stare, she offered the bottle to Marianna.

“You don’t have to take my word for it. You can try it or you can dump it. Either way, it’s yours now. And I really hope you can find what you’re looking for.”

Marianna stared at her. She looked at the bottle, taking in its appearance. It looked like a regular perfume bottle. The liquid inside was salmon colored. There was a faint aura surrounding it…maybe a scent of lavender? Marianna couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She tapped her fingers lightly against the glass and, when she looked up, Eloise was gone. Marianna’s hazel eyes skimmed the storage room. It was just her.

Her gaze returned to the attraction. Curious, she twisted the cover. A nozzle was revealed underneath. Was it a spray? Did it work like perfume? Or did she work it like a can of whipped cream? She tilted her head. Marianna did often rely on her mother a lot…. When she had no one else, she still had her mom. She didn’t realize how empty she could feel otherwise. How alone.

Was Eloise right? Was it really a replacement, albeit a temporary one? Would it really not change who Marianna was? Would it help? Would this pain, this hole, be fixed that quickly? And then she could move on with her life? It sure seemed to work for everyone else so far. Could it have been possible they were right all along? That Marianna was the one missing something?

There was only one way to find out.